#I dreamed I was back in class last night Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[bcmbiquinn]

THE FIRST FALL OF SNOW

Summary: Teenage Joseph having a high school crush/ falling in love.

Pairing: Joseph Quinn | fem!reader

a/n: This is entirely inspired by one direction songs from their first albums where they just yap about being down bad for a girl. It was also partly inspired by Taylor Swift song“so high school” and also simply about how sweet and pure high school crushes can be. There are gonna be more parts but be patient with me as I’m quite of a procrastinator and some times struggle with writing, anyways hope you like it.

Credit for divider: @fanguro

The autumn breeze rustle through the trees surrounding the school grounds as you hurried up the stone steps of the historic building. Your heart race not from the brisk walk, but from the anticipation of possibly catching a glimpse of him in the crowded hallways.

Joseph. He was the boy who made your heart skip a beat every time he passed by your locker, making your cheeks flush pink.

The first time you saw him was in English literature class, something about him captured your attention , maybe it was the way he rested his cheek on his hand when he was concentrated taking notes or how his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

Whatever it was, you found yourself studying him more often that you studied Shakespeare or dickens.

As you approached your locker, you saw him further down the hall, surrounded by his usual group friends from the drama society. They were probably talking about their upcoming school production of “A midsummer Night’s Dream” where he’d landed the role of Lysander.

You pretended to be very interested in organising your textbooks while stealing glances at his direction but then, he looked up and your eyes met for a brief moment, you could feel your heart stop for a bit, then you looked away as you could feel your cheeks burn.

As you walked toward your classroom, you remembered the first time you two spoke. It had been three months ago, when you’d both reached for the same copy of “Hamlet” in the library. Your fingers had brushed, you felt your body shiver and take a step back shyly. Joseph smiled - that crooked genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners- and insisted you should take it.

“You probably need it more than I do, I’ve already read it twice.”

You managed to stammer out a thank you and then he walked away. “You dumb girl, don’t you know how to speak properly?” You thought to yourself as you clutched the book to your chest.

That night, you’d stayed up until 3 am reading, imagining his fingers turning the same pages, wondering if he ever fell asleep while reading it, just like you were doing it then.

Since that moment you two have shared glances across the hallway or classroom, shy smiles and soft hi’s at each other and ever time you could feel your heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

Every morning like clockwork, Joseph would arrive at his locker -just three down from yours- at 7:45 and every morning you’d wake up early so you could arrive at school earlier and see him, you’d pretend to organise your books while secretly watching his reflection through your locker mirror.

One morning, you found yourself doing the same, looking at him through your mirror while trying to push another book into your locker that clearly couldn’t fit in anymore.

“Earth to y/n!” Your best friend Sara’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. “You’re doing it again”

“Doing what?” You asked innocently.

“Staring at Joseph like he’s the last chocolate biscuit in the tin” Sara teased, leaning against the neighbouring locker. “why don’t you just talk to him? Properly, not just those awkward Hi’s in the hallway…you look like a creep, hun”

You shut your locker with a bit more force than necessary. “It’s not that simple Sara. He’s…he’s so… I can even get a word out without shaking and my face turning red like a tomato” I let out a deep sigh. “He will probably laugh at me. Have you seen him at drama class? He’s brilliant! And I’m just…me”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Just you? You mean the girl who won the school’s creative writing competition last year? C’mon pumpkin, give yourself some credit!”

But you weren’t listening to Sara anymore, Joseph had just walked past you and as he did, he’d glanced your way again. This time your eye contact lasted a fraction longer, you felt time slowed down and then both of you looked away.

What you didn’t know was that Joseph’s heart was racing just as fast as yours.

[womanfredvonkarma]

I've been having what I might call a Time.

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend 

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33

authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. I’d love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3

Part one: breakup and new beginnings 

Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest ‘big’ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasn’t always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more. 

Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled ‘to the point’ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million. 

By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything. 

Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, you’ve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since you’ve been in the spotlight, you’ve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasn’t something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You weren’t complaining though, you enjoyed it. 

Your last ‘scandalous’ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man you’d ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldn’t want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends. 

-

“I should have picked a different song.” You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBC’s Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover ‘THE GREATEST’ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you weren’t feeling as vocally confident now that you were here. 

“Babe, you’re gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.” Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. She’s fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isn’t terrible, she’s right. You’d been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldn’t say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasn’t been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two. 

“You’re right.” 

“As always. Here, start warming up the money maker.” She laughs while handing you the humidifier. 

“I really hope he doesn’t watch it. I’d literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassment…” 

Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen. 

“I think I’m taking a break from men.” You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy. 

“Whatever you say girl.” You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes. 

“Ugh… You don’t believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.” 

“I’m not trying to doubt you babe. It’s just…You tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.” She's typing away on her laptop as if she didn’t just completely disrespect you. 

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You say flatly. “I happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.” You say matter of factly. 

“Hm..Well I give it a week.” 

-

After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didn’t understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences. 

The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldn’t make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off. 

“All ready?” A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up. 

You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had. 

A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. You’re reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you. 

“Ahhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!” Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures. 

“God you’re talented!” You hear the voice before you see the face. 

“Oh um, thank you so much.” You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly. 

“HOLY SHIT!” You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman. 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry, that’s literally so embarrassing. I just couldn’t see who you were at first.” 

“It’s okay sweetheart.” They both wear big smiles on their faces. 

“I’m y/n, it’s so nice to meet y’all, i’m a big fan!” You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling. 

“We’re big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.” Ryan lets out. 

“No shit! That’s so cool. I really appreciate it.” Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone. 

“Hows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.” Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up. 

“Oh I uh- I wouldn’t know. We aren’t together anymore.” Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought you’d be together longer…” He trails off. 

“Yea me too.. he couldn’t handle the heat I guess.” You shrug. 

“Well, his loss yea?” He smiles trying to cheer you up. 

“Yea..” You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and he’s beyond handsome. He’s aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt. 

The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hugh’s hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out. 

-

Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy. 

Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldn’t even go a week. ;) 

The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that “‘thehughjackman’ started following you!”. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back. 

While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest. 

Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)

Thank you for reading <3

part two

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。GOODBYE KISS — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college! au, rich boy! gojo, established relationships, morning cuddles wif toru <3, morning tantrums with toru too lol, ft. our fav: momjo !!

satoru’s head is on your chest as he snores softly—normally, you adore the feeling of him so close to you, but right now, it’s five minutes until your wake-up-for-real-this-time-or-you’re-late alarm will go off. you’ve already hit snooze on the other six—how satoru’s slept through them all is a mystery to you.

you peer down at him, watching the way his lips are parted as soft breaths escape him in gentle sighs. his hair is messy over his forehead, and the sun makes his skin glow in that way only satoru could glow. you sigh, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and as if he feels the affection in his sleep, he hums a little while still unconscious.

too bad you’ll have to break this peace in just a moment.

and this is going to work out poorly—you already know that. if you move from under satoru, he’ll wake up. if he wakes up, he’ll realize you’re trying to leave. if he realizes you’re trying to leave, he’ll have a meltdown. if he has a meltdown, he’ll surely win and convince you to stay. if you stay, you’ll miss class and fall behind on the notes. if you fall behind on the notes, you’ll procrastinate on catching up. if you procrastinate on catching up, you’ll know absolutely nothing by the time the next exam rolls around. if you know nothing by the time the next exam rolls around, you’ll have multiple mental breakdowns and lose yourself to stress the night before as you cram all in one sitting.

simply put, your entire grade resides on the fact that satoru is currently sleeping on your chest, and he definitely won’t let you leave.

you try anyway—and just as you suspect, you fail.

“huh? wha—where are you going?” he groans, rubbing his eyes as he blinks them open. “wait a sec—baby no,” he whines.

“shh, toru, you’re dreaming,” you kiss his forehead, “i’m not actually leaving.”

“i’m not stupid!”

“shhh, your dream is tricking you,” you insist, “i’m still right under you.”

“you can’t gaslight me! i’m not falling for your tricks,” he huffs, “how gullible do you think i am?”

very, you want to say—but that would be a bad idea.

“you’re not stupid at all, toru,” you say sweetly, “you’re the smartest man i’ve ever met.”

“this is definitely not a dream because you’re even meaner to me in my dreams,” he raises a brow, “dream you would never be this nice.”

“what do you mean i’m mean in your dreams?” you gasp. you’re not mean to satoru—you wouldn’t have to yell at him if he just behaved half the time.

“they’re more like nightmares,” he huffs, “last one, you made me sleep outside. that was rude.”

“how could you dream me being a jerk?” you ask, offended—and before he can answer, your wake-up-for-real-this-time-or-you’re-late alarm blares.

satoru glances down at your phone and stares for a moment—and then he flops back against his pillow as he whines miserably.

“don’t leave,” he begs, “please, just skip this one class for me? i get so cold in the mornings,” he pouts.

“then put a shirt on,” you sigh.

“i’ll be lonely!”

“not if i’m bullying you in your dreams, apparently.”

“baby, i can’t sleep without something to cuddle,” he tries again—that one almost makes you cave. you have to admit that cuddling isn’t something you enjoy passing on either, but class is important. more important than class is your sanity that you would like to keep intact instead of lose while cramming six chapters in one night.

“cuddle my pillow,” you sigh, “satoru, please. i’m already late.”

“just this once, okay? i won’t ask again,” he says innocently, his eyes wide and pleading as they peer up at you.

“you said that last time.”

“last time i crossed my fingers,” he winks, “so it didn’t count. so now you have to—”

“goodbye, satoru,” you mumble.

he slumps in defeat, grumbling under his breath before rolling over to turn his back to you petulantly. you sigh, rolling your eyes—though fondly, before you head to the bathroom, getting ready for the day.

by the time you’re out, satoru has fallen asleep again—you know it’s because he’s stayed up late again to play video games with suguru. because you don’t want to disturb him from his much needed sleep (and because you don’t want to risk waking up him and dealing with another tantrum), you decide to gently pull the blankets over his bare chest and skip the goodbye kiss.

it won’t be a big deal if he doesn’t get a kiss goodbye while he’s asleep, right? he won’t even be awake to notice.

evidently, you realize in the middle of class that you’re wrong. very wrong.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤToday, 8:32 AM

baby boy 💋:

you left without a goodbye kiss???????????

are you ignoring me????????????

baby

sweetheart

sunshine

angel

peaches

i know you’re reading this.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤToday, 8:41 AM

mrs. gojo ❤️:

please answer satoru. i really don’t want a headache today

this is very short and silly sorry. anyway rip momjo she deal with too much that boy is a handful

[rafesslxt]

Showerhead 2 | mattheo riddle

pt. 2 — you can find pt. 1 here

summary: after you and mattheo had some fun in the shower, you two can‘t stop thinking about each other and that night. But who gives in first to sin again after a little jealousy?

words: 5,1k

warnings: heavy dirty talk again, cursing, making out, dry humping, teasing, controlling, praising, bj, unprotected p in v, shower, swallowing, legilimency (mind reading),

note: you don‘t have to read part 1 for this part but have fun if you want to

— in the great hall —

After that night in the shower 2 weeks ago, I couldn‘t stop thinking about it. I dreamed about it in my sleep, daydreamed about it in class and lunch while Hermione talked about some book we needed to read to understand everything in potions.

I hated it but everytime we crossed paths, he winked at me and I couldn't help myself but start blushing. As soon as I saw his face, I saw it between my legs.

"Y/n? Are you even listening?" Hermione says and shakes me a litte at my shoulder. "What? Yeah yeah of course, I'm gonna read it." They all look at each other before their eyes are on me again. "We were actually talking about how Cormac seems to have quite interest in you." Harry then continues.

I start laughing loud, looking at them as If each of them has 3 heads." What the hell are you talking about?" "Told ya she's not listening.." Ron says, raising his eyebrows as he bites into his toast.

"I thought he‘s interested in Hermione?" I ask as my laughter calms down a bit. "Harry heard him talking about how he would - well.. do certain things to you." My amused face turns into a disgusting one as I hear what Ron says.

"Yeah and guess who‘s got an invention to Slughorn‘s dinner?" Hermione says with raised eyebrows.

Ron looks at her shoked. "What?? That prick got one and I didn‘t?"

"Oh god no.." a few days ago Harry, Hermione and myself got an invention to tonights Slughorn‘s dinner for his favorite students. ".. but wait, how do you know who‘s coming?" I ask her. "I just asked him after the last lesson of potions. It‘s Neville, Ginny, Blaise Zabini, Mattheo Riddle, Corma –" "Mattheo Riddle?" I ask her shocked, looking at her with wide eyes.

I would see him again? Like.. this close and with people around us? My mind is racing as Hermione answers. "Yeah well, you know he‘s really smart and good in potions." "And he has an interest in special students and Mattheo is.. well – special." Harry comments.

Ron snorts and talks with a full mouth. "Mh yeaw hiff fatha was "speschal".

Hermione rolls his eyes at his full mouth and looks at me again. "Why are you so suprised by his name?" she asks me a little suspicious. " oh uh- just suprised, i always thought Mattheo is uh - not interested in things like that."

"Why would chou think about wat Mattheo is-" "Ron just eat and shut up!" I snap at him making the other two widen their eyes a bit.

I collect my things and stand up from the table. "I‘m gonna go to.. god i don‘t know I‘m gonna go." I say, walking off before they can answer. Because it‘s the weekend I luckily don‘t have classes today. I don‘t think I could concentrate in one of them after the information I just got. God why him? Why me? Maybe I can say I feel sick.. no he would know. I can‘t back down.

I walk down a hall, not thinking where I am going and suddenly crash into something hard but not as hard as a wall. My book and writing stuff falls to the ground and I look up, staring right into the face of Mattheo.

My brain went blank in this monent. "What princess? Aren‘t you happy to see me?" he grins down at me before he gets down and picks up my stuff. "Hm I remember a similar moment, same position." He smiles even more when he sees my red cheeks and not talking mouth. As he gives me my stuff he presses his mouth to my ear and whispers "I‘m looking forward to tonight" And with that, he‘s gone.

I‘m so fucked.

— at the evening —

" Do you know what you‘re wearing?" I ask Hermione while I put on some makeup. I hear her sigh and she goes "yeah I have this one dress I really like. What about you?" I shake my head as I search for my lipliner. " Not really, but I have enough dresses so I‘ll find something." Hermione laughs at my comment as she pulls out her dress and changes into it.

After I‘m done with my makeup and hair, I walk over to my closet, looking for a nice dress.

"What about this one? It would fit perfectly for the occasion." She says as she pulls out a dress of mine. It is long and black, with cute little arms on it. "It‘s pretty but I want something.. else." As i go trough my clothes I think about Mattheo again and what would impress him. God I need to stop it.

"Well what are you looking for?" "Hmm something likeee.. this." It‘s perfect. It‘s short but not too short, i know it sits beautifully on me and.. it‘s green.

(imagine something like this but in some green tone and longer so it‘s more school approved)

Hermione raises her eyebrows and looks at me. "Are you sure? Isn‘t it a little too.. party?" I love her for how she always chose her words wisely and with a knowledge for not hurting and judging people. I know what she meant but she would never think about judging me. Even when I put my clothes on she wouldn‘t pick, she makes me feel great in them.

"Yeah, I‘m sure." I smile, putting it on. When I look into the mirror I smile even more, thinking about how Mattheo will react seeing me in it.

As the time comes we take our purses and walk outside our dorms, meeting Harry and Ron in the common room. "You both look great." Harry tells us like the gentlemen he is but Ron just scans me like a little hater and looks at me. "Isn‘t that a little too flashy?" "Ron!" Hermione hits him on the shoulder.

"Don‘t be mad at what you can‘t have Ronald." I say grinning and winking at him before I link my arm into Harry‘s with Hermione doing the same on his right side.

We walked through Hogwarts, towards the dinner and the closer we got the more my heart started beating as If I‘m running a marathon.

I open the door in front of us after taking one last deep breath and walk inside with my two friends.

Everyone was already there, seated perfectly. "Oh hello you three! I‘m so glad you made it. Please choose a seat and get comfortable." Professor Slughorn greets us. I always liked him, even tho many say he‘s a little weird sometimes but I think thats exactly what I do like about him.

As I walk towards an empty seat, I scan the table, looking at Mattheo when I found him but his eyes were already on my dress.

Quickly I look away, seeing that Cormacs eyes were on me too which made me gag a little.

But god Mattheo looks so good. He wears a simple white shirt with a black tie and black slacks. Damn what I would give to ride his thigh in these – "Y/n you‘re staring." Hermione whispers into my ear, making me realise i stared right at Mattheo, but to my suprise he‘s still looking, not breaking eye contact for a second.

I gulp and look away, feeling my cheeks getting warm. God I hate it so much what kind of affect he has on me. I can‘t be the only one..

Wait. I‘m a woman. I can definitely tease him and make him feel the same.

The dinner goes on, nothing special besides Ginny who came in crying. Definitely have to ask her with Hermione about that later in detail.

As desert comes I look around the table, meeting Cormacs eyes. He licks of some ice cream from his fingers and wiggles his eybrows at me. Oh god I think I‘m gonna throw up.

As soon as I can I look away to Mattheo who was giving Cormac one of his death stares. Interesting.

I don‘t really know why i think it‘s a good idea but i do think it is. So I lean back a little, presenting the low cut at the front of my chest. I see Mattheo‘s eyes flicker to my chest and so do Cormac‘s but Mattheo‘s eyes switch back really fast to Cormac and give him a second glare. Really interesting.

I smile triumphal and lean a bit forwards again, pressing my boobs together this time. Instantly I get a headache but a really intense one. I hiss in pain which makes Harry look at me worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I just got an really bad headache.“ i whisper back, wondering what it caused.

Soon the dinner was over and everyone thanked Slughorn for the invitation. "I‘ll stay and try to figure out what that missing memory of Slughorn‘s is." Harry whispers to us before staying behind.

My headache got a bit better but It still didn‘t go away. As we walked trough the door I said to Hermione and Ginny "You guys go to the common room, I‘ll follow. I just wanna get some advil from Miss Pomfrey.“ They nod and tell me that they will go into Ginny‘s room to talk more privately.

It‘s already late and a bit after curfew but Professor Slughorn told us he made sure we would get in no trouble If someone sees us.

I rub my head slighty, trying to ease the pain on my way but nothing helped.

Then, out if nowhere a hand slaps over my mouth and a arm wraps around me, pressing me against a body. I scream into the hand, trying to get myself free until I see who the hand and arm belongs to.

"You didn‘t think I would let you go off that easily in that little dress of yours huh?“ Mattheo breathes against my face as it was only a few inches away from mine.

He slowly takes his hand away from my mouth, letting me speak. "What do you mean?" I ask and try the innocent act but he doesn‘t buy it.

"Oh princess, princess, princess. You can‘t fool me. I know that you wore this excuse of an dress for me. Fuck and also in my house color's? That‘s no fucking coincidence."

I gulp at his words and the fact that he knows who I wore it for. There‘s not even a single chance for me to lie. "And what If I did wore it for someone else?" Only one way and that‘s to push his last buttons. Oh how I wanted to push that buttons until –

"Someone else, yeah? Then who was it for?" "Cormac." As soon as his name left my mouth I regretted it. I see his jaw clenching and his grin fading. "Cormac yeah? So you didn‘t thought about me the whole dinner?" I slowly shake my head no, not daring to move now.

"So you‘re wet for him right now? Not me?" "What? I‘m not–" but as soon as I move my legs I feel it too. Shit. When I only look up at him his grin comes back.

"Yeah that‘s what I thought.. so why don‘t we skip this bullshit and you come with me?" Before I can even answer him, he takes my hand and pulls me trough the corridors, towards the Slytherin common room. " Mattheo I can't-" "Shut up." he hisses and whispers something under his breath so the doors to his common room would open.

"Can't fucking believe you pulled such a show in front of that stupid dick." he growled quietly before we reach his dorm. I start smiling as I see he's getting mad at the fact that Cormac saw me in that dress. "T'fuck you smiling about huh?"

As we enter his room I notice that there is only one bed which makes me wonder. "Don't you have a roommate?" "No, I have my own room." I scoff at his answer and look around his room. It has a big bed beside the window of the room and a little nightstand beside it. On the other side of the room is a big couch and a armchair.

But before I could think about it any further, he pulls me into his lap, face towards his, after he sat down on the armchair. "You know, you could have just told me If you missed me princess. Didn't need to dress all up for me." He puts his hands on my hips, grabbing them tightly.

I roll my eyes at him and act as If I didn't already enjoy his touch. "Didn't miss you." I say, looking away from him. He chuckles and pulls my face back to his with his fingers on my chin. "Are you sure?" I only nod and look into his brown eyes. They look so dark without any light in the room, that they send even more shivers down my spine than usual.

"Is your head better? Still in any pain?" he asks me grinning. "Yeah they-" wait. I never told him about my headache. Or could he hear when I told Hermione and Ginny? Or when Harry asked me at dinner?

His hands slowly wander down to my tights were my dress slowly rose up and placed them there, squeezing my flesh lightly. I felt his breath on my neck, giving me goosebumps. "It's gotten better, right?" he asks again. His lips ghosted over my skin, making me bite my lip.

"How do you know?" I ask him in a whisper. "I know everything that goes through your pretty little mind baby."

I tried to figure out what he meant by that but I couldn't concentrate with his hands on my skin and his lips almost against my neck. I need him so much.

"What baby, can't concentrate? Too much for you already?" he coos and finally kisses my neck, nibbling on the skin between his lips.

I can't believe how easy he gets under my skin with his kisses and whispers, not even doing anything. " I know you dreamed about me these last two weeks, thought about me at every chance you got. In class, in the shower, wishing it was me who touched you." he groaned against my throat.

My eyebrows squeeze together at his words. " How would you know that?" "Did you never wonder why your head always hurted at the same times?" I gasp and pull my neck away from him. " Are you reading my mind?" my eyes go wide as he just smiles at me sheepishly. Oh my god, no. This can't be. He's not allowed to know all these private thoughts.

"You don't know how hard it was for me to stay away and wait until you would come back to me but you little minx didn't and after tonight.. I couldn't just let you slip away from me again."

"Y-you can't do that Mattheo. That's not allowed. These are my thoughts." "I know baby but I couldn't help myself after that night in the shower. You were like a dream coming true so submissive and responsive to me. Fuck I'm already getting hard just thinking about it. But you understand I didn't have a chance, right? I couldn't risk you thinking about someone else then me."

He slowly pulled my dress up, exposing my tights and underwear. "God are you for real? Did you plan this?" he groans as he sees my matching set, a dark green lingerie set.

He pulls me closer to him, looking deep into my eyes.

"Ride my thigh." he commands and puts his hands back on my hips. "What?" I ask, looking at him dumbfounded. " It's my thigh or nothing. I'm not helping you getting off this time." I look at him with my mouth hanging open in shock. How could he be so cruel?

"C'mon, ride it baby I know you thought about it at dinner." My cheeks got red as he mentioned that. He dips his head towards my neck again and starts covering it in wet kisses. "Don't test my patience, love." he whispers and tightens his grip on my hips, moving them slowly. I gasp at the sudden friction.

"Feels good, right?" I only nod, closing my eyes as I start to move my hips in circles against his thigh. I feel so dirty doing this but at the same time it feels so good to finally get the friction I needed the last weeks again.

I feel my clit rubbing against my underwear, making me whimper and move my hips faster. "Fuck, look at you. I thought you were desperate back in the shower but now you're just getting yourself off on my thigh like a dirty little whore." I moaned at his words combined with his kisses on my skin. His lips went lower, first towards my collarbones, then further down to my chest.

I feel one hand of him wander to my underwear and pushing it to the side so my bare pussy rubbed against the material of his pants. I whine at the feeling, my hands grabbing his broad shoulders. " Oh my god. I'm so close Mattheo." He laughs wickedly against my chest, pushing down my dress so it hangs at the middle of my body. His mouth wanders to my bra, unclasping it with one hand behind my back.

"You're so beautiful baby, never ever am I waiting two weeks again for that." he growls and starts massaging my boobs and playing with my sensitive nipples.

I arch my back, shivers run down my spine at his touch. The grinding get's more and more intense. "Feel this?" he asks as he takes my hand and puts it on his bulge. "It's just for you." I bite my lip and look down at my hand. It looks so painful that I start massaging it through his pants. He bucks his hips up into my touch, his breathing getting heavier.

While still riding his thigh, I open his pants and push them down together with his boxershorts. His already fully hard cock slaps against his stomach before I take him into my hand. I spread the pre-cum over his tip with my thumb and start moving my hand up and down. "Shit princess.." he hisses, thrusting his hips up into my hand.

"I'm so close Mattheo.." I whine as I almost start rutting my hips against him. "Come on my leg baby, do it." he groans, lips apart.

I let go of his cock for a moment to dig my nails into his shoulders for support as I press my throbbing clit harder against him. He takes his cock into his hand and jerks himself off as he watches me panting and moaning.

With a deep twisting feeling in my stomach I come all over his thigh, riding out my orgasm.

"So good for me, look at how much you came." he says and I look down at his pants, a big wet spot on them now. My legs still shake from my high and I look up at him again.

Mattheo's POV:

Fuck. I don't know what it is but I have a feeling that this girl is going to be the death of me. With hooded eyes she looks up at me and almost get's me to cum in my own hand just from her eyes looking into mine. She had such a chokehold on me, but I will never admit that to her.

I smile down at her before I speak "already fucked out again and I didn't even touched you." The same thing I told her two weeks ago after I've eaten her pussy and she came after 3 minutes.

"Fuck off." she mumbles and falls slightly against my chest. "As much as I enjoy this closeness baby.." I start, nodding towards my rock hard cock, laying against my stomach.

I push a strand of hair behind her ear and whisper into it. " Suck on it." Her eyes go wide and she looks down on me with those innocent eyes again. " Don't tell me you never sucked cock with those pretty lips." I say, looking at her plump lips, almost begging to be fucked.

She rolls her eyes at me again, making me want to choke her until she stops. " I have." Her answer makes my clench my jaw, wishing she would've just said she didn't.

I pushed her down in front of my legs. I grab a pillow from the couch beside us and put it under her knees, making her grin. " Don't tell me you suddenly care for me Matty?" Now I am the one who rolls his eyes.

I grab her pretty hair into a ponytail and push her towards my cock. She takes it into her hand and starts to lick off the pre-cum from my tip. A moment later she starts sucking on my tip, making me smile. I have a feeling this is going to be good.

I hiss as her wet lips and warm mouth take more of my cock into her mouth. I close my eyes and let my head hang backwards. " Come on y/n, show me what you got."

Suddenly she takes me all the way down her throat, my eyes almost bulging out of my head and my mouth falling open. "Oh fuck, yeah!" I groan, gritting my teeth together. I swear I could feel her smile around me.

She bobs her head up and down in a fast pace, making me moan and groan like a little bitch. Fuck, what is it with this girl?

I feel my tip hitting the back of her throat. " Oh Shit." I lift my head up to look down at her. Her eyes are teary and her hands support herself on my tights. I start grinning, wishing I could take a picture of her pretty mouth around me.

Her throat clenches around me so delicious I almost came. "Hmm baby, you know how to suck cock. Gonna give you that." I pant.

One of her hands go down to my balls, massaging them. " Oh - " I throw my head back again, feeling something in my lower stomach. My hips buck up and I hear her gag, only getting me closer to my high. "M' gonna cum down your throat and you'll swallow it, yeah?" I ask her, breathing heavy. It doesn't take me long to cum and fill her mouth. "Fuckkk.." I groan, pushing her down even harder so her nose touches my stomach.

"Swallow it. All of it." I slowly let go of her, but seeing her cough a little only fuels my desire. She opens her mouth after she swallows and shows me that she swallowed every single drop.

"That's a good girl. Now come on.. let's take a shower." I say grinning at her and helping her back up. "Mattheo I don't know If I can walk so far." she sighs as she stands on her still shaky legs.

I kiss the top of her head, something I never do but just feels right with her. " You don't have to. I have my own shower." I pick her up bridal style and carry her towards my bathroom."

Y/n's POV:

As he picks me up to carry me, I feel a few butterfly's in my stomach but I try to suppress them.

He let's me down when we stand under his shower. His clothes hit the floor. "Hot or cold?" he ask, putting his hand on the tap. "Hot." I say and watch his back. Last time I didn't noticed but he has big scars all over his back, some even on his chest. He must see my face cause he asks me "What's wrong?" I shake my head and try to smile.

"Nothing." I see it in his eyes that he doesn't buy my lie but doesn't push me either. As the warm water hits my skin, I sigh in relief. I let my hair get wet and wash off the makeup I had on. While I did so, Mattheo stands right behind me, his hands on my hips, scanning my face.

I open my eyes and see him looking. " What?" I ask grinning. " You're beautiful." I roll my eyes and look away again, trying to hide my blush. "You don't have to try to get into my pants. You already are." He turns me around and holds my face. " Hey.. I really mean it. And not just your body. Your face is prettier than the ones of angels." My eyes widen at his words, not expecting that kind of words from him.

He clears his throat and looks away for a moment himself. That's when I grab his face in both my hands and crash my lips into his. The kiss is hungry, more passionate and different than the last times. More tender.

One of his hands slide up and down my back, while the other lays on my hip. "You make me crazy, princess." he admits, mumbling against my lips. I smile into the kiss. "Don't go soft Mattheo." I say, teasing him.

He starts kissing my neck, but less soft and more aggressively now. "Remember who's in charge here baby. I would choose your words wisely." He lifts me up so I wrap my legs around his waist. "This time I wanna see your face when I fuck you."

He takes his cock into his hand and positions it at my entrance, teasing me with it. „Mattheo come on, fuck me.." i huff out frustrated. "Beg for it, wanna hear you beg again like the last time I fucked you." I roll my eyes at his ego, but still do as he tells me to. "Please, I'm already begging you to fuck me."

Ge grins down at me and slowly pushes inside me, holding eye contact the whole time. His lips part and his eyes get lazy. "Fuck, you feel just as good as the first time I fucked you stupid."

I want to bite back but only bite my lip as he starts thrusting in a fast and hard pace. "What was that? I'm going soft princess?" His grip on my hips gets tighter and he starts kissing my neck up and down. " N-no you're not.." I whimper, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back against the wall.

What was is that he had me under his control so much? Not even a single brain cell told me to not do as he says. I can't with this boy..

His lips work their way up to my ear and he whispers "I'm a man baby, a boy wouldn't fuck you like I do. " Goosebumps erupt over my body and again he's right. " Stop messing around in my head." I growl lightly, supressing a moan in my throat. "You're all mine. I don't give a shit about how you see that, cause I know your body screams for mine every night. And it will never get someone else's. Do you understand?"

He stops kissing my neck and looks at me while thrusting his hips against mine. A shiver run down my spine as I looked into his eyes, but this time not a good one. It was ice cold. I never saw him looking tat serious and cold. Possesive. "Do. You. Under. Stand." he asks me again, deep and hard thrust for every word.

"God yes, Mattheo. I understand!" I cry out as his fingers find their way towards my clit, rubbing it in circles. My nails leave marks all over his back, drawing a little blood.

He starts hissing but laughing at the same time at the pain. He's gonna be the death of me. "No, you're gonna be mine, princess. Do that again with your nails, turns me on." As I don't, he mumbles a quite "okay" and presses me harder against the shower wall, fucking me even deeper and more brutal. My nails find their way back inside his skin and I'm sure If we had been o the bed It would be broken by now.

"When are you gonna learn to not be a little brat, huh?" he asks, a smirk on his face. "I own you now, baby." I let out half a snort half a chuckle. " Do I own you then too?" I ask sarcastically. " You own every inch of me."

My face falls a little at his answer, not expecting it. Did he mean that?But as soon as my thoughts started, I forgot them as he starts to rub my clit even harder, but in a steady rhythm.

"Oh yeah look at that in pleasure twisting face, that's fucking it." he groans, his thrust becoming more erratic. One hand leaves my hip and wraps itself around my throat, squeezing it with the perfect amount of pressure. A broken scream leaves my lips with my eyes rolling back.

"Yeah scream so loud Cormac hears who‘s name you‘re moaning tonight." I press my lips together but he squeezes my throat tighter. My walls clench around him, making him lose his control, eyes rolling back a bit with a smile to it. "I love that pussy so much fuck.I bet he can't fuck you like I can, huh?"

This time my answer comes in a instant. " No- no he can't. I'm so close Mattheo, please." I moan as I feel this deep twisting feeling in my stomach. His lips meet mine, to my surprise. Unlike how he fucks, he kisses me soft and passionate. "Come around me baby.Please fucking come around me." he groans almost desperate.

And just like that I let go and let the feeling of my orgasm overflow me. "Hm shit.. can I come inside you baby?" Mattheo pants against my lips while he looks down between us. I just nod quickly, feeling him coming inside me a few seconds later. "Shit.." a whimper leaves his lips as he fills me up.

My stomach twists again at the sound so I look at him and scan his face for a moment. I think that's the hottest sound my ears ever came across. He looks fucked out too, his eyes heavy.

He slowly pulls out but still holds me. "You make me so addicted." he confesses to me, looking between my eyes and lips. I had to. " So you're going soft now again?" I tease him, out of breath.

He chuckles lowly which ends with me bent over every single surface in his room.

I don't know how long I can survive in that.

—

I just know ya‘ll hate and love me for posting this.. after weeks :) <3

There‘s gonna be a part 3, the final then. Hehe.

Taglist: @idk-simra @kindnessspreads @purplegardenwhispers @glittervame @oxi8 @lovelyygirl8 @yakosobaboba | thank you for supporting guys 🫶🏻

I created a Tag List Form if you‘re interested: Taglist Form

xoxo sarah <3

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Bully Part 3

A/n: Happy new year/ New year's eve everyone! As promised, here is part 3. Thank you all for following and supporting me these last few months. Here's to a great year of smut ahead <3 <3 <3 I hope you enjoy your favorite pervy menaces <3

Disclaimer: Gojo X Geto X Fem!Reader. DUB-CON WARNING. READER ENJOYS WHAT’S HAPPENING TO HER BUT IT’S MESSY!!! Blackmail!!! Humiliation. Degradation. Free-use dynamics. Spankings. Public sex. Filming. Gojo gives a stranger permission to touch reader!!!

"Who knew the three of them were...well...like that." Utahime said, immediately gossiping once the taxi started to move. "I can't say I'm surprised though." Shoko said, "They're practically attached at the hip."

The girls and Nanami were sharing a cab to get back to their dorms, gossiping about what had happened during dinner. It was a fun night of drinks and banter, ended with their friend being kissed by Gojo and Geto. When asked about the nature of their relationship, the two men responded by saying they were…fuck buddies.

"She could do better." Utahime said, "I don't get why she's settling for those assholes."

Nanami looked out the window as he allowed the chatter to wash over him, not really paying attention. His mind couldn't help but go back to a week ago when he and Gojo were in class together, the only ones there and he noticed his lock screen...

"Gojo, what the fuck?" Nanami snarled as he looked at Gojo's phone, his screen flashing up as he received a message. There was a naked woman's photo set up as his lock screen, her face out of frame to accommodate her breasts and her spread legs and Nanami didn't want to even think about what was dripping out of them.

"Oh, my bad." Gojo said casually as he picked up his phone, "But she's hot right? She's my new fuck buddy~"

"Not interested." Nanami said, clicking his tongue in annoyance, "Just keep that shit to yourself. Why do you have that as your phone background?"

Before he got an answer, Geto and you walked into the room, asking them what they were talking about and when Gojo showed them the screen, Nanami noted your reaction. He didn't too much of it at the time, assuming your flustered and angered expression was over how vulgar Gojo was but now he wondered...

No. There's no way that was you, right?

Right?

~~~~~

"What the fuck was that?!" you screeched once Gojo closed the door of the taxi, smacking them both across the shoulders, "Why would you say shit like that?! Telling everyone we're fuck buddies- what will they think of me!?"

"It's the truth, right? Stop your bitching." Geto snarled on your left.

"Exactly. I'd rather you use your mouth for something else." Gojo said on your right, his fingers moving to tug at his pants, starting to undo his belt.

"Wh-What the fuck are you-" you sputtered, your eyes flickering over to the taxi driver who seemed to be paying you no mind but-

"Oh, don't worry about him. He works for my family." Gojo said, pulling his hard cock out of his pants before he tapped on the driver’s seat, "Hey, you don't mind if this whore sucks my cock back here, do you?"

You yelped at Gojo's words, face a bright red as you heard the taxi driver chuckle. "Enjoy yourself, boss." he said, not even looking back as he put up the divider, giving the three of them some privacy.

"There we go. Happy?" Gojo asked as he leaned back against the leather seat, his arm reaching up to grab you by the back of your head. You gasped as he gripped onto a handful of your hair and tugged harshly, his hold on your unrelenting as he started to pull your head down to his lap.

"Get to sucking."

~~~~~

Oh God.

Oh God.

You ran your hands through your hair, eyes wide as you went over what happened last night. You had hoped it was a dream but...it wasn't. You got fingered in the restaurant, got kissed in front of everybody by your bullies before said bullies announced that you were all fuck buddies.

They got you back to one of Gojo's penthouses, (the bastard so rich he had multiple houses he could just use whenever he wanted) and once you reached it, having sucked them both off in the taxi, they cleaned you up the best they could before the three of you passed out on the bed. You fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow, too drunk and loopy to do anything else.

Which is how you found yourself in between them, the two men still sleeping as you contemplated moving country and changing your identity.

To your right, Gojo groaned, his eyes pressing tightly as he fought away the need to wake up, moving from his back to his side and throwing an arm around you. You froze as he pressed himself close to you, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "Fuuuuck..." he cursed, frowning, "My head is killing me..."

"Don't make it our problem." Geto groaned, woken up by his own hangover and Gojo's whining. He looked over at you, taking your appearance in, looking quite delectable in Gojo's oversized t-shirt.

"Mmph- gimme those tits..." Geto said as he fisted the hem of your t-shirt before he pulled it up harshly, bunching it all underneath your chin. You gasped as he immediately leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue lapping at it a few times before he sealed his lips around it. A groan on content left his throat as he started suckling on you gently, truly using your boobs as stress relief for his hangover, the pressure at which he sucked your nipple increasing and decreasing at a slow pace.

"I-I hate you two." you said even as a hand came up to thread through Geto's hair, watching as he closed his eyes and suckled on you. It was honestly a bit soothing, feeling him suckle on you gently and not maul on your nipple the way they usually did. Gojo grunted as he too moved down your body and took your other breast into his mouth, sloppier than Geto but still suckling on you hard enough to make your toes curl.

"Oh God...people are going to think I’m a whore..." you lamented, tossing your head back and accepting your fate, fingers threading through their hair as they used your body. "It's accurate." Geto teased, giving your nipple a few kitten licks before going back to sucking. "Exactly. And who cares what they think." Gojo said, running his tongue over the plush of your breast, making your whole boob wet with his saliva, "You're our whore and that's all you'll be."

"Whatever." you said, not even having the energy to argue. You simply lied down, almost going back to sleep from the sensation of them gently nursing on you. But within five minutes, Gojo was bored.

"Come on, let's go take a shower." Gojo said, pushing himself up with a groan as he got off the bed, but not before grabbing your wrist. Geto growled as Gojo pulled at you, not appreciating being interrupted as he wrapped his arms around you and glared at his friend even as he continued to suckle.

"Don't look at me like that." Gojo said, sticking out his tongue, "You can take her after I play with her."

'Play with her' meant him taking you to the shower and running his hands all over your body like a pervert, squeezing your flesh and washing every nook and cranny as he ordered you to stay still. Sometimes he'd fuck you- other time's he'd simply jerk off and cum on you- always something new with Gojo.

Geto growled, making you shiver at the sensation around your sensitive bud before he pulled away with a pop, a hickey already forming on the fat of your breast.

"Let's all shower together." he said, sitting up as well, "We have a mission today and the principal will kill us if we're late."

Oh right. You were assigned a mission with these two menaces. And if it wasn't tough enough dealing with them before they started fucking you, you can only imagine the shit you're going to have to put up with now. You sighed as the two men grabbed you and lifted you off of the bed, taking the t-shirt off of you and smacking your ass before pushing you towards the bathroom for a very...thorough bath.

~~~~~

"What's with the face?" Geto asked, tapping his finger on his arm as he waited for Gojo to finish getting dressed, "Doesn't it fit?"

"This- I can't wear this! It’s too short!" you protested, tugging at the skirt...if you could even call it that. You were wearing the school uniform but instead of your usual pants, the boys had demanded you wear something else. A mini skirt. The skirt only reached your thighs, even the slightest movements threatening to flash your whole ass.

"Might as well give the curses something to ogle at before they die." Geto teased, looking you up and down, nodding his head in satisfaction.

"Fuck you! I'm not wearing this!" you said, pressing your legs together as you reached for your discarded pants. But before you could even touch the fabric, you felt a sharp pain on your behind, a slap so loud and hard that it made you yelp, the force pushing you face first onto the bed. You whipped your head around, face hot as Geto stood above you, pushing up the skirt a bit to marvel at the red handprint he left behind.

"You don't have to wear it if you don't want to." he said as he pulled his phone out, pointing the camera at you and you couldn't stop him from taking a picture, "But it would be a shame if I accidentally sent this to the schools group chat~"

"...I'll wear it."

"Smart girl." Geto said with a laugh, the sound making your ears heat up in embarrassment. It made you shiver, thinking about all the material they had on you. Pictures, videos, text messages... they continued to torment you and it didn't seem like they'd get bored anytime soon.

And neither would you.

"Get on your knees and keep your face down." Geto ordered, still pointing his phone at you while he used the other hand to push the skirt up entirely, bunching it at your waist and exposing your panties, "Shake your hips. Grind that ass on me."

You gasped as you felt him move forward and press his crotch against your ass, his hardening cock obvious even through the fabric. He started to gently dry hump you, a somewhat bored expression on his face, like it was a chore to use your body to get off. He landed another sharp spank on your butt, reminding you that he was waiting for you to follow orders.

You bit your lower lip, fisting the bed-sheet tightly as you did as he asked, wiggling your hips and shaking your butt against Geto, gasping as you felt him grow harder against you. As you continued to shake, the door opened and Gojo walked in, dressed in his uniform as well.

He whistled as he watched the two of you, noting the redness of your ass cheeks. "Was she being naughty?" he asked, taking Geto's phone from him and continuing to film, giving his friend free reign to humiliate you easier.  "She tried to be." Geto said, reeling his hand back and spanking a cheek one more time before he grabbed your hips tightly, "But you know how she is. It's easy to put her in her place."

You yelped as Geto started to thrust against you, pushing his clothed erection against your clothed cunt as he dry humped you, the flesh of your butt rippling against him as he fake fucked you. Somehow, this felt more embarrassing than if he actually stuffed his cock inside you- it was like he couldn't be bothered to put in the effort but still wanted some pleasure.

He humped you a few times before he called it, pushing your hips away from him and making you collapse on the bed, your knees giving out as you panted against the bedsheet, face red hot with shame. You barely processed Gojo coming behind you, sliding his hand up your waist before he whisked your panties off, tugging them off of your legs before throwing them to the side. You were about to spread your legs, assuming the man was either going to eat you out or fuck you but he simply gave your butt a pat before saying:

"Get up. We gotta go."

"Wh-huh?" you babbled, watching as Gojo grabbed your skirt and pulled it down over your butt, the fabric barely covering you. You pushed yourself off of the bed and stood up, ears flushed as you once again were made aware of just how short the miniskirt was. All it took was for one small movement for anyone to see your privates. "Th-then why did you-"

"You thought being spanked was your punishment?" Gojo asked, a smirk on his face as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, "Nah. You don't get to wear panties."

"No- You can't!" you protested, pressing your hand between your legs, trying to pretend like your cunt wasn't gushing.

"Principal is asking if we've left yet." Geto said, interrupting the conversation, "I could send him a picture of you over Gojo's knee, getting your ass spanked and explain exactly why we're running late. Shall we do that?"

"...Let's go."

Gojo’s driver from last night was picking the three of you up and to your horror but not surprise, Gojo ordered you to sit in the passenger’s seat. You could feel the driver’s eyes on you as you tried to get into the car without flashing him, all decency thrown out the window as you practically covered your bare pussy with your hand as you sat down beside the stranger.

"Did you see her pussy?" Gojo asked once he settled down in the back, Geto beside him.

"I'm afraid not, Sir. She was covering herself." The driver confessed, quite expressionless.

"How rude. Hey," Gojo said, getting your attention as he tugged at your ear, "Spread your legs. Let him see your cunt."

You jumped, your ears ringing at his command, jaw dropping to the floor at the shameful demand. You pussy was already wet- "I- that's- I can't do that!"

"Either you spread your legs or I rip that skirt off and toss you out of the car. Your choice."

With a gulp, you took a deep, shaky breath, your heart hammering in your ears before you slowly started spreading your legs. You heard the driver’s breath hitch as your skirt bunched up, completely exposing your puffy pussy to him. He even leaned forward a bit to get a good look at you, making you close your eyes shut so you wouldn't have to see it.

You pressed your mouth close tightly so they wouldn't hear you moan.

"What do you think? Good pussy, right?" you heard Gojo ask, the other two men also leaning forward to look at you like they weren't more than familiar with your body.

"She's beautiful," the driver responded, "so puffy and cute~"

"Why don't you touch her a bit?"

You gasped, back arching off the seat as you immediately felt a hand on your pussy. Your eyes snapped open, watching as the driver had indeed slid his hand between your legs and was touching you. A total stranger was rubbing your cunt!

"She's so wet~" the man teased, a smile on his face as his fingers glided between your folds, the slick sound of your wetness echoing through the car, "Oh, she feels amazing."

"Doesn't she? She's a perfect little fuck toy~" Gojo said, biting his lower lip as he watched you get touched by the driver, a twinge of possessiveness popping up as he eventually ordered him to stop. The man immediately listened, pulling his hand away from your pussy before licking his fingers off your juices, the action making you moan in embarrassment.

"You know where to take us, right?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Get to it. And you," Gojo said, kicking your seat and getting your attention, "Keep your legs spread, got it? Give him something to look at while he drives."

After the long and awkward car ride where you kept your legs spread the whole time, the three of you were dropped off at your location (but not before the driver got to cop another feel). It was an abandoned location, decrepit and having a strong vibe of curses. The cursed energy was so strong it made your skin crawl and your teeth chatter. But you knew you had nothing to worry about. Not only were you strong, but you also had the two idiots with you who were labelled the strongest sorcerers.

It was strange that the curses were not the things that were making you nervous. You tried not to think about how you were used as a toy. As a plaything. As something they can give other people permission to use as they pleased. You couldn’t believe that just seconds ago- a random stranger had their hands on your most private part.

You tried not to think about how much you loved it. "Lead the way." Geto said, giving your butt a pat before you started walking. You didn't need to look behind you to know that they were taking pictures of you, Gojo one time practically putting the camera between your legs and taking an upward shot.

"Stop- I'm trying to focus!" you complained, pulling down the skirt as best as you could which you knew barely did anything.

"You'll only focus once you stop worrying about your outfit. It's just us here, after all." Geto said, "So flash that pussy and find the curse."

"I don't see you two doing any work." you said, cheeks red as you glared at them, "Find the curses, why don't you."

"Nah." Gojo said, idly scrolling through his phone, his glasses reflecting the photos he just took of you.

"The fuck you mean, nah?"

"It's your job to find and defeat the curses today." Geto explained, giving you a sly smile, "Do a good job and we might put in a good word with Yaga. Our recommendation means something, you know."

"...you guys are never that nice." you said, smelling a scheme, "what do you want?"

"We don't want anything." Gojo said, "And as long as you do as you're told, of course. Now push that skirt up and show me your ass."

You huffed, quickly realizing what this mission was going to be.

But hey, if you get a promotion through this...then perhaps you can stick it out.

You gripped your skirt and pulled it up, not having to do much as your peach butt got exposed. The two men laughed and whistled, getting enjoyment and more blackmail material: many pictures of you, in uniform, at a location of curses, flashing your butt. And this was only the beginning.

As you started tracking down the curse, your senses were on high alert and you gradually forgot about the skirt, the shiver you felt as you got in contact with the thick cursed energy making you decide that you needed to focus on the task as hand. You blocked out the two of them following behind you and you blocked out the sensation of your skirt riding up enough for your lower half to be almost bare. When you sprinted up the stairs, feeling a curse nearby, your skirt rode up completely and you only pulled it down once you reached the top.

In front of you was a curse, not a special grade but not weak either. It was a large, disgusting looking thing, oozing power but you knew it was not as strong as you.

"I'm guessing the two of you aren't going to help?" you asked, getting ready as the curse spotted you. "Nope." they responded, Gojo's phone out and pointing at you, taking a video, "all yours."

You didn't have time to respond as the curse suddenly lunged at you, dragging its disgusting body with surprising speed as it gained to attack. You sprinted around it, your body swift and deadly, understanding the way the curse worked in a matter of seconds. You countered every move with your own, slowly weakening it before you exorcised it, the curse dissipating in the wind.

"That was pretty decent, even for you." Geto said once Gojo stopped recording, "you didn't even let the fact that your whole pussy is out stop you from doing the job. Well done."

You looked down and sure enough, from all the running and the dodging and the fighting, your skirt had ridden up once more and your cunt was totally out in the open. You blushed and you quickly pulled the skirt back down, your ears turning red from the embarrassment.

"Fuck. I'm horny now." Gojo muttered as he pocketed his phone, "Hey, hands on the wall- I'm gonna fuck you."

"Wh-" you sputtered, blushing heavily, "But we're busy!"

"Geto can deal with it. My balls come first. Pun intended."

The black haired man rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face as he said: "Fine. But I'm fucking her once I’m back so you better finish by then."

"No promises~"

Not caring about your response, Gojo walked upto you, gripping you by the back of your neck before he pushed you gently against the nearest wall, his other hand pulling your skirt up. Geto walked past the two of you, following the curse as he left you behind to get a pounding.

"Oh, you're so wet, you nasty bitch." Gojo snarked, grinning as he felt you up, his fingers sliding between your folds, "You loved walking around in this slutty little mini skirt, huh? Yeah, I know you loved it. Probably wanted us to fuck you this whole time."

"D-Don't flatter yourself!" you retorted, wincing as he pinched the plush of your butt before he changed your position a bit. "Mhmm. You're real fucking convincing. Now spread your legs. I want to fuck this nasty pussy."

 Grabbing you by the hips, he made you bend forward, your palms against the wall and your ass presented to him. He continued to play with your pussy, two fingers easily sliding inside of you while his other hand got to work on his pants. He simply slid them down enough for his cock to pop out, hard, throbbing and leaking pre-cum from the red tip. He tapped it against your ass, staining your skin with his fluid before he took his finger out and pressed the tip against your cunt.

He didn't care for foreplay and he didn't care if you felt good. He was here to fuck and that's what he was going to do. And you were going to take it.

"Oh yeah, that's a good pussy~" he groaned as he started pushing inside of you, his cockhead popping into you easily from how wet and dripping you were. You hated to admit it but running and around and flashing your privates had gotten you hot and bothered, even if you were just exposing yourself to the two men who were more than familiar with your body.

You gasped as he continued to bully his cock inside you, eventually bottoming out and spreading your cunt so deliciously wide. His groans were audible through the empty hallways, both his hands now grasping your hips greedily. With a lick of his lips and no warning, the man started to thrust, starting off a bit slow. Your moans jumped with each thrust, your ass rippling against his hips each time he fucked his cock deep, deep inside you.

Despite the many times you've gotten thoroughly pounded by Gojo, you simply can't seem to get used to his size. His cock was deliciously long and thick and each thrust in had his leaking cockhead pressed up against your womb. You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises on instinct, slick dripping down your legs and staining the floor.

"Fuuuuck- I'm addicted to this free use pussy!" Gojo growled as he not so gently smacked your ass, laughing at your squeal, "Bend you over and fuck you anytime- claim you as my personal whore. I fucking love it!"

“Shut the fuck u-u-upppp!” you squealed, his cock curving just right and bumping against your special spot, a rush of pleasure sparking through your spine. Gojo simply spanked you again before he used that hand to grab your hair, pulling at it roughly. You gasped as your head was pulled back, the pain of your hair being tugged at addicting.

“I felt your pussy tighten, bitch~” Gojo snarled with a smirk, “You love being bullied by us so much- it’s so pathetic and I love it.”

“You’re pathe- ohhh right there- right there!”

“Yeah? Here? Little bitch likes it when my cocks hits her right here?”

Gojo angled his hips so he hit your g-spot with every thrust forward, the clap of his hips against your butt practically echoing through the hallway. You couldn’t hold back your moans, little ‘uh-uh-uh’s leaving you as he pounded your cunt like a toy. You didn’t know how long the two of you were there for, fucking in the open, in the middle of the abandoned building. You were so focused on the pleasure that you didn’t notice the pressure of the curses suddenly disappear.

“Are you done yet? It’s my turn to cream her cunt.”

You groaned as Geto walked over to the two of you, wiping his mouth.

“I still got the taste of a curse on my tongue. I’d like to wash it down with her pussy.”

“Fuck- wait for a bit.” Gojo said, panting heavily, sweat marring his brow, “I’m almost done.”

“Nope. I’m not waiting.” Geto said, punching Gojo in the shoulder and ruining his rhythm, “Plus, there’s another curse that needs killing and I’m pretty sure it’s your turn.”

“You want- fuck-“ Gojo cursed, stilling inside you to give Geto a look, “You want me to fight a curse with a hardon?”

“Well, she fought one with her pussy out so I’m sure you can manage.”

Gojo sighed, rolling his eyes before he conceded, “Fine, fine. But you owe me one.”

“I do not. Now get going.”   Gojo pulled out of you, the slick sound of it making your body shiver as his erect cock stood tall, covered in your juices. He tucked himself back in his pants the best he could, his dick still straining against his pants as he quickly walked away, a determined look in his eyes. He wanted to finish off this final curse as soon as he could so he could get back to destroying your pussy.

Before you could even blink, a bit dazed from the lack of pleasure, Geto was on his knees behind you, his hands gripping your asscheeks before he pulled them apart and surged forward. Blood rushed upto your cheeks so fast you felt dizzy as Geto stuffed his face between your cheeks. He groaned as he rubbed his face on you for a bit, enjoying the feeling of your soft flesh against him like a pervert before he stuck his tongue out and got to licking. He took a long, greedy lick from your clit all the way upto your asshole, teasing your rim before slightly sticking his tongue inside.

Your body shivered, little gasps leaving your mouth at his shameless actions, the man starting to eat you out like a messy meal. He clearly didn't care if you felt good, his movements sloppier than usual, and obviously just wanted a taste. But that didn't stop your body from responding to him, your hips subconsciously pushing out in a silent plea for more, your pussy dripping. He lapped up your juices, drinking you down with a groan as his hands continued to squeeze and pinch at your cheeks.

“Fucking- perfect.” He moaned against you, his words vibrating your clit and making your knees shake, “Just what I needed.”

With a final, toe-curling suck to your clit, he stood up, ordering you to turn around and face him as he started undoing his pants. Your back was pressed against the wall, Geto standing close enough for your chests to almost touch. “Take your top off. Get naked for me.” He groaned as he fished his dick out, giving it a few tugs as he eyed you down like you were a piece of meat. You gulped, heart beating fast in your chest as you hurriedly started to unbutton your blouse, trying to pretend like you weren’t eager.

If they knew just how needy you felt…

Geto suddenly grabbed you by the waist once your buttons were undone before he lifted you up like you weighed nothing. You yelped as he slammed you tightly against the wall, feeling his cock throb against your eager cunt as your legs wrapped around his waist. He grabbed onto the cup of your bra before pulling the right one down, exposing that nipple. He bent down and took it into his mouth, the man clearly having an obsession with your tits as he started suckling.

His eyelashes tickled your skin as he ran his tongue over your sensitive bud, giving it a few flicks with the tip before sealing his lips around it and giving it a toe-curling suck. As he suckled, his other hand slid down and grabbed his cock, tapping it a few times against your pussy before he slid in, the glide easy thanks to Gojo’s previous pounding.

“Ah- fuck-yes-“ you gasped out, unable to hold yourself back, briefly registering that all traces of curses had disappeared in an instant, Gojo having finished the job. It was only a matter of time before he rushes to the two of you, demanding to be back inside you.

This was what you were expected to do for them. Be a pair of spread legs for them to use whenever they want- to be fucked silly- to be bred- to be truly and utterly degraded. Maybe Gojo would make you suck his cock. Maybe the two of them would swap places. Or maybe they’d finally fuck your ass.

From the corner of your eye, your vision blurry thanks to the tears from how harshly Geto was pounding into you, you could see someone hurriedly walk towards you, unbuttoning his pants along the way and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh among your moans.

Today was going to be a long day.

~~~~~

[cyn-write]

"Waited All Night..."

Prompt - NRC is in upheaval. A video of Yuu singing a song has been circling around the school about her being "bewitched," and everyone is trying to figure out by who. Yuu is embarrassed and upset about her private song being the subject of gossip, so she decides to hide from everyone only for her crush to find her and reveal he has been "bewitched," by her...

Pairings - Savannaclaw x F!Yuu (Separate)

Warnings - FLUFFF; Incredibly shy Yuu; stagefright (Yuu again); swearing (mainly by Leona); Spoilers for book 3 (Jack's part)

Song Prompt - "Bewitched" by Laufey

Prologue - Heartsyble - Savannaclaw (Here) - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomefiore - Ignanhyde - Diasmonia

Leona hated the fact that he couldn't get to Yuu. He tried calling her but she didn't answer, he tried going to Ramshackle but the ghost kept him out, and when she didn't show to any of her classes or to clubs that is when his patience broke. He knew the Yuu had feelings for him and was waiting for the right time. When the song came out, he knew the time was now and he had to get her out of the stampped of gossip.

He was in an irritable mood for most of the day and by the end of it, Ruggie was ready to snap Leona's neck. Anytime Leona heard her name or the song or head and tail of the betting pot, he would snap at the closes person to him... which was often Ruggie. The last straw was the absolutely grueling Spelldrive Practice. He worked them harder than Vargas ever would and by the time it was over, half the team was crawling back to their dorms. Ruggie stayed to "help" clean up, but he had anterior motives. Leona was toweling off after showering, still scowling from hearing the guys discussing "the pot." apparently there was a lot of money on names that weren't his... but also the sum on his name was hefty. "Go." Ruggie said, done with the grumbling mess. "What?" Leona spat back. "Go. To Yuu. I'm done with this- whatever this is." Ruggie gestured to Leona, "You've been in an awful mood all day and taking it out on everyone around you. Namely ME. So Go. Talk to her. and PICK SOME DAISES. I don't care what it takes. But if you keep acting like this, I promise to make your life a living Hell if you keep all this bottled up." Leona knew Ruggie meant and could keep that promise. And that is what he needed to hear. "Fine." Leona threw his shirt on and grabbed his bag before leaving. "But If I hear your name anywhere near winning 'the pot', You're a deadman." "Wouldn't dream of it!" Ruggie chuckled as Leona made his way to Ramshackle. He had no clue what he was going to say. but he had to say something. By the time he made it to her door, Leona debated just barging in... but he knew if he did that it would make her even more scared than she already was. He knocked and called for her, when she didn't answer, decided to say what came to his heart; "Herbavior... let me it... I wanted to tell you this sooner or later but... I've been bewitched by you for a while now."

Leona was growing tired of waiting. He had to see her, he had to know how she felt, he had to fight for the one thing he was not going to let pass him by. As he reached his hand out to the know, the door opened.

On the other side, Yuu looked completely exhausted and relieved. She looked into his eyes and asked him, "You mean it? Truely?"

Leona sighed and said, "I won't repeat myself again. So listen." He placed his outstretched hand on her cheek. "I like you. Herbavior. A lot. You're my favorite pillow and one of the few people I can stand being around. But you drive me crazy at the same time." He looked into her doe eyes and closed the gap between him. "So I need to know. Your song. Do you mean it?"

Yuu placed her small hand on top of his and her eyes pricked with tears, "I wrote that song to work out my feelings... for you."

Leona never felt more relieved. He gave Yuu a smug smile and caressed her cheek with his thumb, "I knew it."

He leaned down and claimed her lips. After waiting around patiently, listening to the chatter of his classmates, and getting radio silence for a day, he finally had her in his arms. She wanted him. No one else.

When they parted he placed his forehead on hers. He finally saw her smiling and she had a blush on her cheeks that boosted Leona's ego. "I'm guessing you liked the song?"

"What do you think?" Leona chuckled, "I was hoping to hear it in person..."

That made Yuu divert her gaze and turn around, facing her back to Leona. "I-I... I would love to but... n-not yet..."

He could smell how nervous she was. Ever the smooth prince, Leona wrapped his arms around her mid-section and nestled his head into the crook of her neck. "I'm a patient lion. I'll wait as long as you need me to, herbivore."

Leona walked her to the bed and plopped down with her in his arms. And for the first time today, Leona and Yuu were able to nap.

Leona knew it would take time for her to become comfortable enough to share her voice, and thankfully he was a very patient man. The two spent a lot of time together, and after seeing Leona's arm around Yuu's shoulders all the vultures flew away and Ruggie became very happy. Leona was a lot easier to find, and Spelldrive practices became bearable again! In his opinion, Leona and Yuu getting together made Ruggie a very happy Hyena.

Over time, Yuu began to show Leona some of her songs and hum them, but nothing more. Until one evening after Spelldrive practice, Leona was lying in bed using Yuu like a pillow while she mindlessly played with his hair. The moment was peaceful, and Yuu was mindlessly humming. Leona was about to drift to sleep when he got a pleasant surprise, Yuu began to sing, "While You Were Sleeping,"

Ruggie has an uneasy feeling in his gut all day. He was doing laundry when he heard some of his dormmates talking about Yuu's song, and his heart sunk. He knew Yuu had terrible stagefright, she told him this when directly when they were both doing chores the other day. He tried to call her and text her to see if she was alright but she left him unread. He listened to her song before bed the night before, and his gut began to twist.

He wanted to check on her, but she never showed up to class or clubs. What was worse was hearing the debates. Everyone was taking their bets and at times he would hear his name in the midst:

"It HAS to be Ruggie. They are always together! I saw them doing laundry like an old married couple the other day!" One of the Savannaclaw Underclassman pointed out. This made Ruggie start to blush and his stomach feel light.

Then, a scarbia student pointed out big wall in his way that has kept him from pursuing anything beyond a friendship with Yuu: "Why would she pick Ruggie when she has Kalim asking for her hand? Why choose a pauper when she could have a prince?"

That comment has been haunting him for weeks. Ever since he realized he liked Yuu as more than a friend. He had been able to brush off the feelings for a long time, but Yuu's song and the debate around it made him confront these feelings. He spent the day in a daze and out of it. He got his work done, but he nearly ran into a pillar twice that day and almost walked square into Jack.

During Club, it got dangerous as he nearly got hit in the head with a disk if not for Leona. Leona pulled Ruggie aside and called him out. He knew Ruggie has been crushing on Yuu, it was plane to see, but he also knew Ruggie's dilemma and was sick of it.

Leona dragged Ruggie into the locker room and threw him his duffle bag, "Go."

"What?" Ruggie thought he was being thrown off the team for a second.

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Leona was incredibly annoyed and shook his head, "G. O. to HER." Ruggie just looked flabbergasted at his dorm leader. "B-but-" "If you give me that 'I'm too poor' bullshit again, I will knock your head in." Leona pinched his brow before grabbing his wallet and throwing a bundle of cash at his friend, "You work to the bone. You deserve to be happy. She makes you happy and she is happy with you. I can smell the attraction between the two of you and if I have to hear you whine about it or make dopey eyes at her one more hades-damned time. I will lock you two in a room and make you work it out." Leona sounded threatening, but Ruggie knew this was Leona's way of 'encouragement'. The lion-beastman walked past Ruggie and opened the locker room door before looking back at him. "If you are here by the time I get back and not taking Yuu out to a nice dinner. I swear you will be doing all of the teams laundry until you do." Then stormed out. Ruggie just sat there shocked before looking down at the cash in his lap. He could only smile. Leona may not show it often, but he does care. He decided to shower really quick before leaving for Ramshackle. On his way, he tried to think of what to say, and still even after stopping by Sam to get dinner, he had no idea by the time he got to her door. He hesitated to knock but just spoke what came to him in the moment. "Yuu. I know I'm not the... best choice. I don't have anything in the prospects of money or career besides Leona's runner, but... you've bewitched me and I don't want to get out from your spell..."

Everything was still, and Ruggies heart was teetering on the edge of breaking. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the fleeting moments were just made up in his head. Maybe Leona was lying. Maybe she loved someone else...

He was about to walk away when he heard her move towards the door and twist the handle. As the door opened, he saw Yuu look at him with tear-stained eyes and a slightly agape mouth. "Do you mean it?" Yuu asked holding the door tightly, "You... feel the same?"

Ruggie nodded. His heart was beating out of his chest, his stomach was twisting in knots, but he pushed through those things and was able to give her a small smile, "I do. Every word." He scratched the back of his head and looked at himself then at her, "I know I don't have much, but I will work hard to give you the life you deserve." He looked her in the eyes and took a deep breath before professing his feelings, "I will work hard to be with you because you make me forget my situation for a moment. When we... when we walk together, do chores together, or even just hang out, I feel like a normal student for once instead of the hyena at the end of the food chain... So please," He reaches out and takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently and smiling sweetly, "please give me a chance?"

Yuu stared at him for a moment. She looked like she was about to cry again and Ruggie was readying an apology when she surprised him. She stepped forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

Ruggie tensed for a second before melting into the kiss. He dropped the bag of food in his one hand and used it to gently hold the small of her back while the other still held her hand. She adjusted the position of her hand to lace her fingers with his and deepen the kiss.

They eventually parted and she was finally smiling. "Is that a good enough answer for you?" She asked with a coy grin.

Ruggie's signature smile returned to his face for the first time today. "Shishishi, I don't know, maybe I need to hear it one more time?~" This time he leaned in and kissed her deeply. She let go of the door and looped her arms around his shoulders this time.

It didn't last as long since Yuu's stomach interrupted the kiss.

Ruggie leaned back and chuckled again, "Someone hungry? Guess I made the right call." He crouched down, picked up the bag, and held it up, "Chicken sound good?"

Yuu nodded and giggled, "Sounds delicious!"

The rest of the evening, Ruggie felt like he was dreaming. Between a nice dinner, snuggling on the couch, and her falling asleep on him as they watched some TV, he didn't want to wake up.

Ruggie has never been happier. He and Yuu spent as much time as they could together between school, work, and chores. The gossip halted quickly as Ruggie made it clear the SHE chose HIM. Leona was also a smug ass for the week after and would throw smug comments at the two in the vain of "finally," and "You're welcome," that even though they annoyed Ruggie, he was grateful to his friend.

It took a while for Yuu to feel comfortable enough to show Ruggie her notebook, and it was even longer for her to start humming. Sometimes, when they are doing laundry, dishes, or some other chores alone together, Ruggie and Yuu would hum or softly sing together to pass the time. Until one night, after a particularly rough week, Ruggies was enjoying a rare night in with Yuu. They were snuggled together on Yuu's bed, just enjoying eachothers embrace. He was enjoying the peace, and Yuu's humming turned into singing, "Dandelions"

Jack was on edge all day. From the the gossip that surrounded him to his friend (who he has had a crush on since the octanvinelle situation) disappearing and ignoring all attempts at contact, Jack felt cornered all day. Anytime someone brought up Yuu's song or the bet going on, Jack's hair would stand on end and he would get tense. Epel, Ruggie, and Leona all knew Jack had a huge crush on Yuu for a while and the former two would ask him if he was alright and check in on him all day which only proceeded to annoy him. When Jack saw Grim, he had to contain himself from punching the cat. He betrayed Yuu's trust and privacy, he hurt Yuu, and Jack wanted to protect her but he had no clue how. Due to this energy and rage being pent up for most of the day, Jack was like a cornered canine all day. He snapped at his classmates, his friends, and what got him was snapping at VIL. Jack was jogging around the school and down the main street where the Film Club was shooting a scene. They were packing up for the day and Vil was talking to an Ignanhyde student about something or other. Jack was distracted trying to think about anything other than Yuu and ran into Vil accidentally. Due to Jack's size, he knocked Vil into the Fairest Queen Statue behind him. "JACK!" Vil called and dusted himself off with grace. Jack stopped and bowed, his ears flattening, "Vil, I-I am sorry." The Ignanhyde student was frozen in place and looked Jack up and down. Vil looked at the student and gestured for him to leave, which his clubmate appreciated. "I didn't see you there. I'm so sorry." Vil looked at his childhood friend and sharpened his gaze, "It's alright." He nods for the underclassman to follow him behind the statue. Once out of sight, Vil crossed his arms and asked, "What is going on? According to Epel, you have been on edge all day. It isn't like you to not keep an eye on your surroundings." Jack shook his head and said, "It's nothing. I'm fine." Vil stepped closer and tilted his head, "It's Yuu isn't it?" Jack's cheeks went red and he looked away. "No." Vil kept pushing Jack as he knew the freshman was lying. He knew he pushed the right button when he said, "You're in love with her aren't you?" "WHY CAN'T YOU LEAVE IT!" Jack snapped at the upperclassman and immediately regretted it. Vil wasn't phased but had a stern look on his face, "Jack. Because you are a good friend of mine I am going to let that go. But listen to what I say and take it to heart." Vil's tone was sharp and the beastman listened intently, "Go find her and tell her how you feel before it is too late." His eyes softened and he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Yuu is a shy person and you obviously have very strong feelings for her and a desire to protect her. She is probably scared right now and needs someone to lean on. Go to her and do what you do best. Make her feel safe." Jack rubbed the back of his neck and felt small, "But what if... what if she doesn't feel the same?" Vil sighs and says, "You don't know she doesn't until you try." Jack nodded and released some of the tension in his body. "Thanks, Vil." The Pomefiore Dorm leader nodded and released the freshman in the direction of Ramshackle. Jack jogged over to the dilapidated building and was finally able to get inside. He stood in front of Yuu's door, took a deep breath, and let his heart speak. "Yuu... I'm here for you and always will be... I don't want you to feel any pressure, but I need to get this off my chest... I-I... ever since you saved everyone from Azul's contracts, you... I've been bewitched... by you."

Jack's tail never stopped wagging for the next few weeks. Anytime Yuu's scent was in the air or they were sitting together, his tail would give away his joy at having her near. The other first years did point this out (Ace), but he didn't care, and Yuu found it endearing. Vil smiled when he saw the two and Jack thanked him personally saying that he always knew they were meant for each other (Rook and Vil had known about the two's mutual feelings for a long time now, but it wasn't their place to tell).

Jack felt incredibly self-concise about his size, his hair, his smell... everything. He had no clue how to stand, where to put his hands, and his heart was beating out of his chest. He felt like he was standing there for hours and debated leaving when he heard footsteps on the other side. He looked up in time for Yuu to open the door. He looked directly in her beautiful doe eyes and saw a glint of hope.

She stood there silent for a moment, both of them searching for words. When words failed to come, Yuu hugged him. Her small frame fit snug against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and the back of her head. He held her with such gentleness as if he was scared to break her.

Jack needed no words to express his feelings, he expressed them in the way he held her close. His large hand cradled her head and stroked it with such love. His lips barely grazed the top of her head, but that is all that was needed. He loved her. He wanted to protect her. And no words could express how much he felt for her, and no words were needed. She knew how he felt.

"... I love you too Jack ..." Yuu said softly and it made Jack's heart jump again.

His tail began to wag and a smile graced his lips. His large hand moved to her cheek and gently guided her to look at him. He stroked her soft cheek with his calloused hand and leaned his forehead against hers, "I know I am not much for words but... I promise, I'll protect you, no matter what comes our way. And I will love you with all my being."

"I know," Yuu smiled, "and so will I,"

With that, the two leaned in and sealed their promise of devotion with a tender kiss.

Eventually, Yuu had gotten comfortable enough with Jack to work on her songs while he was in the room. It was a random Thursday night, Jack was working on homework and Yuu was working on her songs. She caught Jack by surprise when she asked him his opinion on a song. He put down his homework and agreed to listen. He curled up behind her and listened as she sang the song she had been working on the past couple of weeks, all while Jack's tail lightly wagged on the side of the bed; "Lovesick"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing more characters in this scenario or these characters in different scenarios, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

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[hyunniesgirl]

Another Love | Part 5

Summary: you've been hopelessly in love with Han since you were children. One night you confess your feelings to him.

Warnings for this chapter: the tiniest bit of angst

Words count: ±5,600

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

A/N: I struggled so much with writer's block + personal life issues to write this part, I'm glad it's finally out. Next part will be the last one for another love.

The first thing you think after waking up is that it was all a dream. Of course it was, there's no way Jisung likes you in that way.

After ten minutes sitting on your bed, staring at the wall, you come to the conclusion that it couldn't have been a dream, it was too realistic.

Then, you come to accept that he was drunk, there's no other reasonable possibility and that makes perfectly sense for you, he didn't mean what he said because he was intoxicated.

So after taking your sweet time getting ready for class, trying to avoid Jisung, you go out to the kitchen planning to pretend that last night's events never happened.

You didn't expect to find your best friend, wide awake, preparing coffee. Han doesn't really like waking up too early in the morning so it comes as a surprise when he's perfectly awake. He glances at you, pouring a coffee into a mug and handing it to you after wishing you a good morning.

Jisung looks tired, huge eye bags under his eyes. It looks like he didn't sleep at all.

His eyes trail carefully, analyzing your complexion, trying to guess what's your mood after his confession.

“About last night…” He starts saying, seeing your eyes dart from the dark liquid to his face.

“Don't worry about it”, you try sounding relaxed. So he remembers it, that makes you nervous. “I guessed that you were drunk and didn't mean what you said”, you shrug.

Han frowns, tilting his head to the side while staring at you.

“I was not drunk”, he says, “I meant everything I said”, he clears his throat nervously, “and I know it's too late, I don't want things to get weird again”

You feel your face warming up, you didn't expect him to tell you this kind of thing so straightforwardly. But above all else, you're mad. Mad because you went through so much to get over him, just for him to come back months later saying he likes you back? You're not having it.

“Do you think it's okay to play with people's feelings?” You put the mug on the table, crossing your arms. “You didn't give me any hope, Jisung, not a glimpse. You told me you never saw me in that way and it was pretty clear to me that you would never like me in a romantic way. So why now?”

He gulps, trying to find an answer for a question he has been asking himself since he noticed his new found feelings for you.

“I thought it would be selfish of me to give you hope at that time. I really didn't see you in that way, I don't know what changed”, he bites his bottom lip, feeling like he's ruining everything again.

“And you're not being selfish now?” You scoff, your words feel like daggers being thrown at him.

“I don't want to be”, he tells you, frowning in confusion.

“I guess it's not always the thought that counts”, you say, grabbing your bag from the couch and walking out of the door, wishing you didn't have to come back.

You're angry with Jisung for even thinking about changing his mind, but more than anything else you're angry with yourself because you felt your heart waver for a moment.

It's not easy to hear that he loves you, you have waited to hear that for so long it actually doesn't seem to be real. Sometimes you just long for something you know will never come and Jisung's love was just that, something you thought could never be yours.

You don't even know how to process it, you are not even over your relationship with Jeongho yet, you don't even know if you still like Jisung in that way. You're just confused, you should be grieving the relationship you didn't get to have and not worrying about your feelings for your best friend again.

You're just tired of all this, you wish you could just have a normal friendship with Jisung and not this mess. But that's on you, you're the one that loved him first and confessed to him, so this is just you dealing with the consequences of your own actions.

Since the moment Jisung realized he's in love with you, he's been trying to understand why now? You didn't change at all, you're still the same kind and smart girl you have always been, so why did he only fall in love with you now? After everything you went through to get over him.

He didn't really plan to tell you about his feelings, he thought that maybe it would be for the best if he kept those to himself so you could move on completely. But the thought of letting you think you were doing something wrong just broke his heart, you shouldn't think you're in the wrong when he's clearly at fault.

“Well, it could have been worse”, Chan says, smiling sympathetically to Jisung while they work on a new track.

“Worse how? She hates me now”, Jisung whines.

“It's better that she hates you for telling the truth, than her thinking she was ruining your friendship” Chan shrugs, looking back at his laptop.

“How many times can someone ruin a friendship, though?” Changbin asks, with a finger in hid chin, thinking out loud. “Are you two trying to compete or something?”

Jisung stares at Changbin for a moment, taking a deep breath, he shouldn't yell at his friend.

“Do you think you'll be able to see her moving on while you like her?” Chan asks, biting his bottom lip. “It was not easy for y/n to see you dating different people, but she's very strong. What about you?”

“I- I don't know”, Jisung answers, fidgeting with his fingers, “I'd like to have another chance, but I know it's not possible. I just want her to be happy even if it's not with me”

“Then, that's what you should do”, Chan shrugs. “Y/N is going through a hard time right now, you should just support her until her heart is fully healed and maybe, just maybe, one day you'll get another opportunity”

Jisung nods, feeling his heart sinking. It's his time now to pin over an unrequited love.

“He what?” Hannah's voice comes out in a half scream, making the people around look at you two.

“You heard me”, you say, trying to hide yourself from the prying eyes.

“Well, he clearly has no tact”, Hannah points out. “So… hm… what did you tell him?”

“I told him that he shouldn't play with people feelings”

“But, how did you feel hearing his confession?” She asks, curiously.

“I don't know”, you sigh, “I swayed for a moment if that's what you want to know”, you play with the napkins on the table, trying not to look at Hannah because you know she's going to see right through you.

“Are you sure it was just for a moment?” She asks, looking at you sympathetically. You feel tears brimming through your eyes. “You still love him, don't you?” She asks even though she already knows your answer.

You nod, feeling a few tears running down your cheeks. It's been three days since Jisung confessed and all you could think about was him. You tried so hard to focus on other things, to think about how much he hurt you so many times, but everything just came down to how your heart couldn't stop beating so fast every time you remember him saying he's in love with you.

It's embarrassing to be crying in the middle of a restaurant, luckily it's night so the lack of lightning helps hide your red eyes.

“But I don't think I want to”, you tell Hannah, “I don't want to love him, not after all the effort I put to forget about these feelings”, you confess. Logically, you want to ignore all the reactions Jisung causes on you, you want to pretend you don't feel a single thing for him anymore.

“I don't think you'll be able to let go of these feelings if you keep being friends with him”, Hannah sighs, she really didn't want to be the person to tell you to end a 15 years long friendship, but if you really want to get over him, you're going to have to cut him off. “It was possible when he didn't like you back, but now there is this hope inside you and I just know that you'll keep holding on to it involuntarily”

“What should I do, then? Jisung is everything I ever know, I'm not sure if I'll be able to just end our friendship like that”

“Look, y/n. You have two options: end it now and move on, or you can consider accepting his feeling”, Hannah frowns, “I know it's hard, but I think it's something you have to take your time to think about”

You get back home, exhausted from the emotional turmoil. At least this whole situation took your mind out of Jeongho, you were able to go through another whole day without looking at your phone, waiting for him to contact you again. Maybe you're coming to terms with the fact that your relationship is really over.

As soon as you finish showering, you grab some ice cream from the fridge, put on some sad drama to play on TV and get cozy with a blanket on the sofa. Crying is all you wanted to do in these few weeks, having your heart broken twice in a year is no joke.

Half way through the movie you hear the sound of the door being opened. You have tears in your eyes because the story of the movie is just so sad, you didn't want Jisung to see you crying in the middle of the living room but it's inevitable.

He doesn't say anything though, walking slowly closer to you with a paper bag in his hands and pouring snacks all over the center table, opening a box of tissues and giving it to you.

“Oh, I watched this movie. It's pretty sad, right?” He asks, eyes locked on the screen.

“Yeah”, you say, whipping your tears.

Jisung gets comfortable on the sofa, crossing his arms and just stays there, watching the movie with you.

No words being said the whole time you were together, just your sniffs and the sounds from the movie being heard in the dark living room of your shared apartment. As if none of you had ever confessed being in love with one another.

Jisung thought maybe he should try and make things the same as they were before, he wants to give you the feeling of comfort you felt close to him before. Even if it hurts him, he'll try.

You fell asleep on the sofa, but woke up in your room, Jisung must have carried you there. When you finish getting ready for class, there's no one else at home and there's only a note on the table saying that Han will bring dinner later.

You thought he would bring up his confession again last night, but he just stayed with you, commenting on the movie the way you always do. It was… comfortable and you can't say you didn't like it.

You have a full schedule of tutoring today, you don't even know if you'll have time to breathe. So you take the first bus to school, stopping at the cafe to get some coffee for you and Hannah.

It's been a while since you saw Heeseung, other than seeing him in the cafe, he's taking the same class as you this semester so you eventually run into him and after a while it just stopped being awkward.

It's startling to think that you're almost graduating, it seems like it was only yesterday when you moved in with Jisung to attend university. You had so many plans, hoping that everything would go well and you'd end up dating your best friend and living your best life.

Things never go as we plan it, that's a good lesson you learned after all these years. In the end, you got Jisung to like you back, but do you still want him?

With all this turmoil of events, you almost forget that you and Jisung have to go back home to see your families, when finals start you won't have time and neither will Han with the group's new album coming out.

Things are weird between the two of you, not as normal as before you confessed but not as awful as when you were apart from each other. Even though Jisung is trying to act normal, like he never confessed to you, there's still this strange sensation that everything is out of place. Maybe it's just a matter of you two adapting to this new dynamic you have going on.

As always, your mom and Jisung's prepare so much food for you to eat and take home too. They keep glancing suspiciously at you two the whole dinner, whispering between each other like no one's noticing how they're behaving. So the next morning when you go out with yours and Jisung's dad to buy groceries, the two ladies atack your best friend with questions.

“Did you two fight?”, your mother asks.

“You two have been so weird since the last time you came to visit”, Jisung's mom completes, “but now you can't even look at each other”

“We didn't fight”, Jisung clears his throat, looking around, making his mom sigh.

“I can see right through you”, she scolds, “you should apologize to her and ask that she forgets what you did”

“It's not something I want her to forget”, he mumbles, sulking.

“What exactly did you do?” Your mom asks, frowning.

Jisung gulps, trying to spit those difficult words out of his mouth.

“I confessed that I'm in love with her”, he mumbles, waiting for them to scold him for that but their reaction was the opposite.

“What took you so long?” His mom sighs.

He looks at them curiously but proceeds to tell them the whole story since the moment you confessed to him.

Jisung has been racking his brain for weeks now, trying to understand just how things got where they are now and the only conclusion he got is that he is the one who changed.

After looking at a future where you were nowhere to be found, Jisung realized that a life without you doesn't make any sense to him. Food lost its taste, activities didn't bring him any pleasure, coming home didn't feel the same.

Why would he want to come home to a house where you were not there? A place where you wouldn't have dinner with him and talk about your day, watch something and make little comments about the nonsensical things happening on the screen or funny curiosities about what you were watching. Jisung realized he didn't want to do those things with anyone but you, he wanted to hear you laughing of his jokes, he wanted to see you looking at him with a judgemental glare when he said something stupid, he wanted to wake up and look at your face for the rest of his life, it had to be you, it couldn't be anyone else.

It's just sad that he only realized that when it was too late.

“She rejected you?”, his mom asks and Jisung nods, biting his bottom lip.

“You're not going to give up now, right? Because of one rejection!”, your mom tells him. “We had to watch y/n’s eyes always on you for years, she didn't give up that easily so I won't accept it if you just give up on my daughter like that”, she huffs.

“What am I to do? I'm afraid I'll ruin our friendship”, he cries out.

“Don't you think she had that same fear when she confessed to you?” Jisung's mother says. “There are things in life that are worth the risk”

“You know, if you're sure you won't regret it even if the result is not what you expected, you should keep trying”, your mom says, “from what you just told us, you didn't ask her for a chance. You can't give up before asking for a chance”

He looks from your mom to his, sighing. Should he? Should he try to win you back?

The door opens and your voice is heard from the entrance, making the three of them shut up and pretend like they weren't just talking about you.

Your schedule got full again with tutoring since you're going to stop it while you're going through your finals. The parents want you to speed things up so their children don't fall behind while you're away. That means less free time to think about your messy love life and honestly that's for the best because you're more confused than ever. So you spend most of your time at school or in your students houses, going back home late at night and going out early in the day.

Jisung misses seeing your face, when he arrives at night you're already asleep and when he wakes in the morning you're already gone. He knows it's for the best, that way you can take your time to get used to the way things are between you two now. He also needs this time to decide if he really wants to risk your friendship by asking you for a chance or if it's better for him to try and get over these feelings, however, he can't help but long for you.

Jisung knows just how hectic the last week has been with you coming home just to sleep, trying to keep up with studying and tutoring. So he asks for Minho's help to cook your favorite dish, your mom sent him the receipt saying she always cooked it for you when you were studying for the college's exam.

After another exhausting day you arrive home, just wanting a warm bath and your bed. However, the moment you step into the house, you feel the nice familiar smell of food, making your stomach growl.

“Hey”, Han glances at you before going back to setting the table.

“Why does this smell so good?” You ask, dropping your bag on the sofa and coming closer to the table to look at whatever food has this smell.

“I was going to bring dinner but decided to cook”, he shrugs.

“Hm? How is the kitchen still intact?” You joke and he glares at you.

“Minho might or might not have been here overseeing the process so I wouldn't set the apartment on fire”, he pouts.

You nod, walking to the sink to wash your hands.

“Why didn't you invite him to have dinner with us?”, you ask.

“I did but he didn't want to stay”, he shrugs. “I think he's going to visit his cats tonight”

Well, the cats come first place to Minho, you're already used to that. So you just nod, watching Jisung finish putting the things in place while you sit down.

“How was your day?” He asks.

“Exhausting”, you say with a sigh. You have big eye bags under your eyes.

“Are you sleeping well?”

“Yeah, it's just a lot going on”, you answer truthfully.

You should have stopped tutoring some time ago, but you kept pushing it so you could have something to keep you occupied away from your break up with Jeongho and a bit to escape from the dilemma in your mind about your feelings for Jisung.

“You know”, he says slowly, trying to find the best words, “I don't want you to feel pressured by my feelings, you can even forget what I said if it's best for you”

He didn't really want you to forget, but the last thing Jisung wants is for you to feel more exhausted because of him.

“I don't know if I want to forget”, you mumble, not really thinking before speaking.

“What? What do you mean?” Jisung asks, his heartbeat getting faster, hope growing in his chest.

“I just- I don't know”, you play with your food, not wanting to look at him. “I don't know if I still like you in that way but I'm not sure if I don't like you at all anymore”, you confess.

“Wait- I”, he feels his stomach sinking in. He doesn't know what to say, this is not the time to ask you to consider giving him another chance, right? You're confused right now, he shouldn't pressure you, so he bottles everything in, struggling but restraining his feelings. “Take your time, I won't go anywhere”, he says confidently, even though he's not actually that confident.

Jisung's not sure if having hope is the right thing for his heart, he's not strong like you and knows that the moment you reject him definitely he'll fall apart. Maybe that's why he's been so afraid of asking you to give him a chance.

You nod, lost in thoughts. Maybe it would be better if he pressured you, then you would be forced to make a decision and get out of this bind you're in right now.

Hannah started trying to convince you to go to a party. Why does she always try to drag you to a party every time you're having problems in your love life? You are afraid not even her knows the answer for that, guess that that's what friends are for.

“It's after exams, you'll need to relax”, she points out, “it's going to be good to have some fun after worrying so much about the finals”

“I just want to sleep for a whole day”, you whine, “that's how I want to relax after the exams”

You're not even sure how you found the time to meet with her, you're both between classes and she's really using your ten minute break for this.

“You need to get out there, meet new people”, she says, receiving a mean glare from you. “Not like that”, Hannah pouts, “I mean meeting new people in general, not to date”

“Well, I think I already know enough people”, you say and she sighs, crossing her arms while sulking.

“Please, it's your last party in college”, she points out, “we need to celebrate”

You take a deep breath.

“It's not my last party if I bomb on my exams”, you tell her, watching her roll her eyes and scoff.

“You're like the only person in this school who has zero chance of bombing an exam”, she says, pushing you lightly, while giving you puppy eyes. “Can we please go to the party? After we graduate we won't have time to meet each other as much and I'm going to miss you so much I might die”

You roll your eyes, chuckling.

“Why are you so dramatic?” You sigh, “okay, fine. We can go”, you give in.

“Great! Now let’s go, I'm sure we are late”, she says, making you panic looking at your watch, you could kill her right now if you were not about to miss your exam.

Han arrives and for the first time in a while you're awake, Hannah's there with you so that explains why you're still up. He greets you two, going to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

“Hey, do you want ice cream?” You ask him, pointing at the big bowl of ice cream you have in your lap.

“No, thank you”, he says, awkwardly. He missed your face so much that he takes a few more seconds to come to his senses.

“Have you heard about Ryujin's party?” Hannah asks, “I know she's friends with Hyunjin.

“I didn't”, Jisung answers, eyeing you.

“We are planning to go”, Hannah says, pretending to be clueless to his longing eyes on you.

“That's cool”, he clears his throat, “I can pick you up after the party”

“Really? That would be cool”, Hannah nods, her attention going back to you when you let out a big sigh.

“Well, I had plans for whren I finish my exams”, you sigh, “I was going to watch a list of horror movies while stuffing my face with the most unhealthy foods I can find”, you point out.

“Too bad”, Hannah mocks, chuckling at your confused face. “You already told me you are going so no take backs”

“Do I have to dress up?”, you huff, in defeat and your best friend rolls her eyes, starting to talk about all the clothes she bought that would look good on you.

Meanwhile, Jisung leans on the kitchen counter, wishing that no one notices him there so he can look at you for a minute more.

You think you did well on your exams, each test you finished gave you a sense of relief, finally you would be out of college in a few weeks. However, that also brought you new doubts, what would you do now? You'll have to find a job and it's already time for you and Jisung to resolve the matter with your friendship, you have to decide what you're going to do.

If you decide to not give him another chance, you are going to need to move out of the apartment, that's for certain. Even if you want to move on, you can't while living with him. But if you decide to give him a chance, what then? What changes in your relationship? You never really thought about how things would work out if Jisung ever liked you back. You never even entertained the idea of having sex with him, you knew that once you let those thoughts get to you, you would be done for so you avoided them, but now those things you thought were impossible, are becoming too real and those thoughts are trying to sneak in on your mind.

Jisung is giving you space, he spends time with you but the air is almost always awkward, like he has something to say but won't spit it out.

Now that you're free from studying the whole day, you have more free time and that leads to you thinking about Jisung all the time.

The party is boring, you want to go home. You met Heeseung there with his friends and for the first time in what looks like a decade, Hannah is interested in someone so you encourage her to go do her thing and flirt with the person. She doesn't want to leave you at first but you insist and she finally goes to the dance floor, leaving you to mop silently in a corner of the room.

Heeseung and his friends keep you company and take care of you while you down your drinks, you want to relax after so much you have been going through. You just didn't expect to get dizzy and sick so easily and when you realize you're in Jisung's car, being taken home.

“Where's Hannah?” You ask, startling Jisung.

"Hyunjin is at the party, he's going to take her home later”, he answers, paying attention back to the road.

“Who told you to come?” You don't remember calling him, but to be fair you also don't remember when you stopped being aware of what was happening around you.

“I was actually calling you to check if everything was okay”, he says, “so Heeseung answered and asked me to pick you up”

Jisung actually called to know if you were enjoying the party, imagine his surprise when a man picked up. He froze at the moment, gathering courage to speak and ask him who he was and why he was picking up a call on your phone but before he could get out of his own head and ask, Heeseung was already explaining the situation.

You're so dizzy you can't even keep standing, the whole trip from the car to the apartment is just a blur. You were in the passenger seat, then in the elevator, then running to the bathroom as soon as you set foot into the house.

As you're throwing up everything you ate the whole day, you hear the hurried steps from Jisung. He puts a glass of water in the bathroom sink, kneeling on the ground right next to you. Jisung gathers every loose strand of your hair, holding it away from your face while he looks around, trying not to stare at your pathetic scene.

“It's been a while since we have been in this situation”, you point out, reaching for the glass of water, the nasty taste in your mouth making you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

“I guess you're right”, he answers. “What about a cold shower to sober up?” He jokes, tying your hair in a ponytail now that your head is still.

“No, thank you”, you watch him get up. “I think I'm already sober enough, but I'll accept a warm bath”

Jisung nods, walking to the shower and turning on the hot water to fill the bathtub.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asks, analyzing you to make sure you can take care of yourself. “You're not going to choke on your own vomit, right?” He asks, pretending to be disgusted.

“Shut up”, you tell him, rolling your eyes.

“I'll wait outside, call me if you need help”

You nod, does he think you're a child that can't take a bath? Even if you're a bit drunk, you can still function normally.

You scoff watching him leave the bathroom and close the door, trying to ignore the warmth growing on your cheeks from the simple mention of him helping you while you take a bath.

After a long time under the hot water, you finish your bath and brush your teeth, getting ready for bed, a lot less intoxicated now.

You open the door carefully, you don't have any clothes to change so you're wrapped in a towel and the last thing you need is Han catching you like that again.

Surprisingly, there's a chair by the door’s side with Jisung's clothes on top of it, a shirt and sweatpants but there's no sign of the man. So you just grab the clothes and change in the bathroom.

When you enter your room, Jisung is there, making the bed. He glances at you, he saw you in his clothes a thousand times before but it seems so different at that moment, he can't help but feel his cheeks and ears burn.

Jisung avoids looking at you, he's embarrassed about his reaction, so he keeps making the bed while talking to you.

“I didn't want to go through your wardrobe, so I left my clothes there”, he clears his throat, “I'm glad it fit”

“Of course if fit”, you chuckles. “Jisung I lost count of how many times I borrowed your clothes”

“Yeah, but-”, he mumbles, stopping himself mid sentence, giving up on what he wants to say while shaking his head but you're not having it this time, you're tired of him bottling up the things he wants to say.

“But what?” You ask.

“It's nothing”, he sighs, still not looking at you.

You walk to him, putting your hand on his shoulder to pull him, making him turn around.

“But what, Jisung?” You ask again, forcing him to look at him, noticing his red cheeks for the first time in this conversation.

“It's different now”, he says, “I feel different about you and it's nice seeing you dressed in my clothes”, he shrugs everything at once.

“Ah…” you take a step back, you didn't stop to think about that.

“Can you give me a chance?” He asks suddenly, taking you out of your thoughts, making you look at him with a frown in your face and he would be lying if he said that reaction didn't scare him, but he already gathered all his courage, he can't back down now.

“What?” You ask, confused.

“Let me prove to you why you should stay with me”, he pleads, reaching for your hands and you actually let him take them into his own. “If you fell out of love with me give me a chance to make you fall in love with me again and if you still like me but is not sure about our relationship let me show you that we are worth giving a try”

He spoke slowly this time, making sure you understood every word he said so that if you reject him, he will know that it's not a misunderstanding, you really don't want his love. But if you accept his try, he wants you to know what his purpose is.

You stare at him for a few moments, the silence growing scarier for Jisung but for you it's like time stopped. His eyes, locked on yours, full of hope making you nervous but at the same time, your heart is beating fast. Since the first sentence he spoke, the answer couldn't be other than yes.

Not yes to being in a relationship with him, you still have a lot of doubts but the thought of him trying to win you over is just enough to make your heart flutter and the butterflies on your stomach move faster.

“Do it”, you tell him, looking deeply into his eyes, “prove to me why I should give you a second chance”, you tell him and the relief that washes over his eyes makes it seem like you just told him he is free from an incurable disease.

“Are you sure?” He asks, afraid you'll change your mind but you nod. The first thing you feel is his hard chest against yours, he wraps his arms around your waist and spins you around.

“I'll show you that we are meant to be together”, he says, hugging you tightly and kissing the top of your head.

The mission to make y/n fall in love with Jisung again has officially started.

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback give me motivation to keep writing. Also, you can buy me a coffee.

Taglist(closed): in red are people I couldn't tag.

@hhwangsmoon @weareapackofstrays @shycreationdreamland @adestayskz @skizmee @ca11me3mily @realviviboss @sofix-hc7 @starsandrqindrops @itshannjisung @redstayrosie @mae-is-cute98 @blithevix @astro-doll-the-star @vlctorriaa @captainchrisstan @rag-iii @notastraykid @jisunghannie @applepie-macaroon @stayingdelulu @sundayysunshine @kidrauhlschik @wolfennracha @meloncremesoda @hanschimpmunk @realrintaro @teejisung @maexc @gyustarzzi @ivaneedssleep @chaeryred @daemon-bunny @broken-glowsticks @ch4nniebang @sleepyleeji @seukijeuxq @luvbangchan @lovesunshinefelix @hyunjins-dimples @castielsfrillywhiteknickers @armystaytiny @literallyjustwanttoread @jisunghannie @jungkookies1002 @diorggukie @channieandhisgoonsquad @mamabymychem @ladylexis @bmnyy

[sapphicjackal]

Bingyuan Soulmate au 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Life was brighter with Yuan-ge in it. 

Luo Binghe woke up before dawn with a smile on his face, fading dreams of a tender touch and warm voice lingering on the edges of his awareness. Not even the cold dirt floor of the woodshed could diminish the light feeling that courses through his body. He writes to Yuan-ge before getting dressed for the day, pushing back his sleeves and dipping his brush into ink.

“Wishing Yuan-ge a happy day!” Binghe wrote carefully with a smile, filling the words with happiness.

He wishes he could talk to Yuan-ge more. Yuan-ge writes to him a couple of things during the day, but Binghe has to wait until night when he’s alone in the woodshed to have a conversation.

Binghe was surprised to feel the rasping scrape of Yuan-ge’s writing implement so quickly, especially when Yuan-ge seemed to wake up a couple of hours later than him. 

“Good morning Bing-er.” Yuan-ge wrote beneath Binghe’s message before more was written.

“You told me you had trouble cultivating, I thought about it last night. The most important part of learning is cross referencing. Is there any way you could look at someone else’s manual?” Yuan-ge asked, his words were earnest but they held a faint sense of suspicion in them.

“Yuan-ge?” Binghe wrote, imparting it with his curiosity.

“Make sure your material is real. People could be trying to hurt Bing-er with fake material.” Yuan-ge wrote, full of worry and suspicion.

Binghe recoiled from the message, his eyes wide. A fake manual? Binghe had never even thought of his manual being fake. Why would they give him a fake manual? 

‘Because they hate you.’ a part of him thought.

No. 

Even if Binghe somehow disappointed Shizun and earned his ire, there’s no way a peerless immortal like Shizun would give his disciple a false manual. Binghe hadn’t been here long, but he knew that it was deadly to cultivate improperly. It was one of the first things they were told. To follow their manual carefully and faithfully because any deviation could result in damaging or even destroying your meridians.

Binghe fought back the urge to argue with Yuan-ge. 

Yuan-ge wasn’t a cultivator, he didn’t know how serious his accusations were. He was looking at this from the view of a scholar. With scholars it’s important to check that the copy of what you are studying is genuine. If you aren’t careful you could learn false information.

Binghe would check just so that he could reassure Yuan-ge that nothing was wrong. Ning-shije would be happy to let him look over her manual when they hang out later today.

“This one will check.” Binghe wrote.

“Thank you, Bing-er. I hope I’m wrong.” Yuan-ge responded, his words full of relief and underlying anxiety. 

Binghe felt warm inside. Yuan-ge was worried for his safety. Even if it wasn’t necessary, it had been years since Binghe had someone who cared like this. Just like how his A-Niang worried when he went out to beg for food. It’s a special kind of worry reserved solely for the safety of the one you love most.

It’s been so long since Binghe felt loved.

The streets were hostile and cold, and coming to Qing Jing Peak was not much different. People were still cruel or indifferent. Binghe still had to struggle and fight to keep his head above water. He still went hungry most days and still slept on the dirt ground.

But now he could read what Yuan-ge says, and that alone made coming here worth it.

Binghe finished getting ready with a smile, brushing his hair to pull it into a neat ponytail. He dusted off his uniform a final time before stepping out of the woodshed to get a head start on his chores.

The rest of the day passed by like usual. His Shixiong’s jeered at him and piled more work onto his plate, he attended the classes of the Hallmasters who let him inside, and he did his chores. In the afternoon, Ning Yingying came to find him to hang out, accompanying him as he did his chores.

Binghe decided to wait until he was done chopping wood to ask Ning Yingying his question. “Ning-shije, could this one look at your manual please? This one is having trouble understanding his own.” he asked, placing down the rusted and blunt axe.

Ning Yingying perked up, happy to be addressed after a sichen of one-sided chatter. “Of course A-Luo!” she chirped, bouncing over to him. She pulled her manual from her robes and offered it to him with a smile. “You can ask Shije for help wherever you got stuck.” she said.

Binghe gave her a grateful smile, “Thank you, Ning-shije.” he said. Binghe sat down and opened up the manual, flipping through the pages. With each page his smile grew stiffer and a heavy feeling brewed within his gut.

This…

Binghe forced himself to take in each page before flipping it, resisting the desperate urge to flip through it rapidly. The words and diagrams were completely different. Binghe had thought himself dumb to be unable to read or understand some parts of his manual. For finding the diagrams to be confusing and painful to execute. 

Yuan-ge’s words flashed in his mind.

“People could be trying to hurt Bing-er with fake material.”

This…

Binghe’s manual is fake.

If Binghe kept trying to cultivate using his manual, he could have died.

His Shizun had handed him this manual with a sneer, telling him to learn it well. Binghe had dedicated himself to this manual, reading each word carefully with his growing literacy and following each diagram attentively.

At best he would have wasted his cultivation, ruining his meridians and his chance at cultivation. At worst he could have Qi deviated and died.

Binghe trembled, a mix of emotions brewing in him as he realized that his Shizun wanted him dead. He knew that he had offended his master to some extent, but Binghe always thought that if he worked hard enough he could change his Shizun’s mind. If he proved himself, maybe Shizun would call him by name rather than ‘Beast’.

Binghe’s smile felt brittle as he pasted it to his face. “Ning-shije, do you think this one could take notes from your manual tomorrow? It’s much easier for this lowly one to understand.” he asked.

Ning Yingying agreed easily with a smile, taking her manual back before returning to her earlier chatter with a bright grin. If Binghe told her that his manual was fake, she would undoubtedly go straight to Shizun about it. Ning Yingying means well, but her words have always gotten him into trouble. Binghe can’t let her know that anything is off. 

So, he smiles back and talks with her, pushing aside the growing anguish and anger inside of him. Those feelings could wait until he was back in his woodshed and could talk to his Yuan-ge. 

They part ways when it’s time for dinner, Ning Yingying towards the mess hall and Luo Binghe back to his woodshed. Normally at this time Binghe would work on his cultivation until dinner is over, then he would sneak some leftover scraps that the other disciples didn’t eat. 

Today, he didn’t bother. Instead he rolled up his sleeve and dipped his brush into ink.

“You were right, Yuan-ge. It was fake.” Binghe wrote, furious tears burning at his eyes. All of the feelings he had been pushing aside in front of Ning Yingying rose to the surface. His body shook with the intensity of his helpless anger, bitterness, and pain.

It didn’t take long for Yuan-ge to respond.

“I’m so sorry, Bing-er. You deserve better.” Yuan-ge wrote, words soothing with their protective fury and gentle comfort. 

Binghe choked on a sob, staring at the words with glassy eyes. When had anyone ever said that he didn’t deserve what was happening to him? The last person to say something like that was his A-Niang, who told him that he deserved more than she could provide. She urged him to become a cultivator, to find a better life for himself. Binghe stayed at Qing Jing Peak no matter what happened because he held onto her words.

Binghe knew they didn’t like him here. He knew they wanted him gone. 

He thought that if he could just prove himself, maybe then he would be accepted.

His Shizun had been trying to kill him since the day he arrived. There was no way that Binghe would ever make himself worthy in the eyes of Shen Qingqiu. He would only ever be a wretched beast.

“Yuan-ge.” Binghe wrote, hardly able to see through his tears as he sobbed hard enough to shake his body. He wished desperately that his Yuan-ge was here with him. Yuan-ge would make everything better. Yuan-ge was the only person who truly cared about him.

Binghe couldn’t force himself to calm down enough to read the response that Yuan-ge wrote, but he desperately grasped at the message to feel what it said. Binghe gasped, soaking in the love and comfort that was imparted into Yuan-ge’s words. Binghe clutched at his forearm until the skin turned pale under the pressure, greedy to get as close to Yuan-ge as he could. 

Binghe wishes he could crawl beneath his own skin to get even closer to Yuan-ge’s words. He wishes he could travel across their string of fate and see Yuan-ge’s face. He wishes that Yuan-ge was here to hold him and whisper in his own voice whatever words he wrote.

Binghe could feel Yuan-ge keep writing to him, slowly filling up his entire arm before he started writing on their legs as well. Yuan-ge kept up a steady stream of writing, every character filled with comfort and love. Binghe traces the words as they appeared, chasing after the path they took as they scrawled across his body.

He doesn’t know how long it took for his desperate sobbing to peter off into gasping hiccups and sniffling, but Yuan-ge didn’t stop his writing the entire time. Binghe could feel that Yuan-ge was writing the same few words over and over again on their legs, keeping his writing small and compact. 

Binghe wiped away his tears and fought to steady his breathing, wanting to read Yuan-ge’s words. He started with his left arm.

“My Bing-er, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“We’ll figure this out, Bing-er, I’ll help you.”

“I’m so sorry Bing-er, you deserve better than this.”

“Bing-er deserves the world, I would give it to you if I could.”

“I’m here, Binghe.”

Yuan-ge had written. They threatened to send Binghe back into a heap of tears, but he held back so that he could look down at his legs.

Yuan-ge had only written one thing, repeating the same words countless times, enough to fill the space from his ankle up to his knee on both legs.

“Binghe is precious.”

Binghe couldn’t fight back the tears any longer. He wrote back to Yuan-ge through the blurry film of tears, his poor penmanship suffering even further from his unsteady hand.

“I wish Yuan-ge was here.” Binghe wrote, wishing with all his heart that it could come true. The woodshed was cold and alone, but his body was filled with words of unconditional love. 

Binghe has never felt so alone, but at least he has Yuan-ge.

Even if the rest of the world wants to see him dead or suffering, Yuan-ge is there.

Yuan-ge is all Binghe needs.

Part 5

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

remus x shy!reader (part 5)

author: sj

warnings: fluff; BARELY sexual content if you really squint; reader is in hufflepuff; uses she/her pronouns; not edited

next and probably last part will be the other boys finding out !!!!! :)

masterlist

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

---

remus felt like he was going to explode. if he didn't kiss you he was going to lose his mind. it all started the week after you had gone on that first date. sirius had made the comment about you snogging someone and then all of a sudden, all he could think about was your lips.

he had woken up from a very vivid dream about your lips and how soft they would be, a warm, fluttery feeling floating in his chest, heart beating wildly while your lips started moving down towards his chest. he could feel you light laugh giggling against his neck while you smiled, moving your way down. remus had woken with a start in the middle of the night, abruptly realizing that you kissing his neck wasn't real.

the next day in class, all he could think about was your lips, moving their way across his body mapping it. he also had to keep readjusting his pants at the thought of you and it only got worse when he had to look at you, eyes drawing towards your lips every time he looked at you.

not only did he struggle with this for a week, but it was also getting close to the full moon and remus was going to cry if he didn't get to kiss you and now, which led to now.

"hey rem!" you exclaimed, eyes brightening and smile getting bigger as you realized he was in the common room, curiously without the other boys. he loved the way you weren't shy around him anymore. the unguarded way that you let your smile shine when talking to him.

"hi bun." he said back, arms wrapping around you as you immediately wrapped yourself around him. you sighed into his touch. nothing compared to being wrapped in your favorite person's embrace. hugs were always welcome with you and your friends, but there's something about remus' hugs that made you all warm inside, melting all your insecurities away and replacing them with warm confidence.

"love, can we talk?" your heart immediately drops at his words, anxiety creeping up into your throat.

"yeah? whats wrong rem?" you ask, pulling away from him slightly to look up into his face.

"nothings wrong love. i just... can't do it anymore." your heart is increasing at this point, thinking he's going to tell you that he's in love with someone. of course he is, why wouldn't he be in love with someone, he's one of the best men you've ever met. or he's uncomfortable with how touchy you are with him. you immediately start panicking.

"what do you mean?" remus can see the panic swirling in your face and how your face has significantly drained of color.

"no, no, bun. i just can't stop pretending i don't have feelings for you. i'm tired of not telling you how beautiful you are, how i want to tell everyone you're mine, and how i just so desperately want to kiss you." remus rushes out, making sure that you don't think he is trying to get rid of you, if anything he just wants more of you.

you stare at his eyes, brain trying to process the information that just came into your ears. you felt your heart beating extra hard, the words you had always dreamed of hearing coming out of remus' mouth not registering in your brain.

"what?" you asked.

"i like you, bun. and if you don't feel the same, we can just move on, but if you do, please let me kiss you." you can hear yourself audibly swallow.

"but rem. i don't... i've never kissed anyone. what if i don't it right?" you whisper, cringing at how pathetic it sounds coming out. remus' eyes widen and a small smirk lifts his lips.

"bun, you couldn't be anymore perfect if you tried. kissing will come naturally to you. plus a little practice has never hurt anyone." he smirks, his eyes looking between yours and going down to your lips. you smiled at his response and tilted your face up towards his. his met yours eagerly and gently, causing your knees to weaken. his big hands came up to your face and cupped your cheeks and after a minute of savoring the moment, he pulled away and your eyes opened to see his gleaming back at you.

"you are the sweetest thing in my life, bun." all you could do was grin back, heat creeping up to your face.

[perfectlyoongi]

FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE

ㅤ↬┊synopsis ... you had to write a poem for a class and, when your creativity betrayed you, you decided to ask your boyfriend for help.

ㅤ⚘.fandom ... bts. ㅤㅤಇ.ft. ... yoongi x afab!reader. ㅤ⚘.genre ... one-shot. ㅤㅤಇ.content ... childhood friends & lovers (established relationship), fluff, just the complicity between u and yoongi. ㅤㅤಇ.word count ... 2k. ㅤ⚘.fandom ... ik as much abt writing poetry as ik abt quantum physics so u get no poem shoo shoo !! ps. dont mind the cringe :3 hope u enjoy ♡

“Come on, Yoonie!” you let out a small laugh when Yoongi grimaced as he shook his arm out of your hands. “Help me.”

“So annoying,” Yoongi prolonged the last word in a dramatic cry that made you laugh one last time. “Okay, I’ll help you.”

You quickly sat down on the black sofa in Yoongi's studio, on your lap a small notebook eager to be filled, in your hand a pencil half corroded by your thoughts. Yoongi sat next to you, in his hand a bottle of partially drunk water, in his eyes a sparkle that only appeared when he was with you.

“What do you need to do?”

“The professor asked for a poem and we had to draw the theme out of a hat.”

“And you got…”

“Love.”

Your response was accompanied by a frown on your part.

Since you remembered that you were submerged in a vast ocean of verses and stanzas, all the themes that could exist building little huts in your heart, creating fragments in your soul that would be forever united by your love for writing. And you wanted to know more about this art. You wanted to be able to create like so many others before you. You wanted to give your creativity a purpose and, with Yoongi's encouragement, you joined creative writing classes at your university.

But, as with everything, the dream became more fantastic than reality.

It was part of the challenge and it made you excited, more eager to create. But it was also tiring, spending days and nights pondering words and themes that could very well carry with them empty meanings and silent beauties. You wrote in constant fear of not being interpreted, of not being worthy of interpretation, of creating something too vague to have any value.

Everything was challenging for you, all the poems you had written to date being the result of too many thoughts and too little passion. So, when you got a theme as common and used as love, you only saw a solution to truly create a piece of art – after all, love only existed for you with Yoongi by your side.

“I kinda feel offended by your reaction,” Yoongi forced a frown and you smiled.

“Don’t start, please,” you opened the notebook and took a deep breath. “How am I supposed to start?”

“You can start by…” Yoongi was thoughtful for a moment, involuntarily playing with the bottle in his hands. “Trying to describe what love is to you?”

Your silence was capable of speaking louder than any words you could have said – and that only made Yoongi let out a small laugh.

Adjusting himself on the couch to get closer to you, Yoongi looked at you curiously. You had a serene expression, but your eyes showed that all the threads inside you were trying to interconnect to form a simple description. Leaning his arm against the back of the sofa and holding his head, Yoongi looked at you amused.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asked cordially, a smile lacing his words, his voice gently echoing through the studio.

“You know I’m terrible with feelings.”

“I’m no better.”

“But you write songs.”

“Because you inspire me!”

You already knew that. Yoongi had already told you countless times that great inspiration for his songs came from you, from the feeling he had for you; but that didn't stop you from reacting, completely embarrassed by your boyfriend's confession.

“Then give me tips!”

“I don't know!” Yoongi opened his arms in a dramatic way, fanning them to emphasize his speech. “I just feel it and the words come and the song gets written.”

You snorted to hide a smile and calmed down again, your back leaning against the sofa, your eyes jumping from the pencil to the blank page.

“And what do you feel?”

Your question hung in the air for a brief moment as Yoongi contemplated your words.

In Yoongi's mind, dozens of words began to appear quickly, constantly running over each other, wanting to be the first to be pronounced. In Yoongi's heart, dozens of emotions began to gently blossom, taking root in Yoongi, assuring his feelings for you.

The pause wasn't long, but for you it was an eternity.

The eagerness for an answer made your heart race. You were looking forward to Yoongi's words, not only to inspire you for your poem, but also to hear once again what you meant to him – it was always good to be reassured.

“At this moment…”

Yoongi's voice was hoarse, deep, gently sung by his delicate lips. The words were steeped in care and serenity. You could feel Yoongi's thoughts in his pronunciation, the way he was precisely selecting each word he spoke bringing a smile to your face.

“At this moment, I feel like a kid again.”

“A kid?” you gently tilted your head – of all the strings of words Yoongi could have said, that wasn't one that had crossed your mind.

“Yes,” Yoongi let out a laugh, nostalgia clinging to every syllable, memories of easier times clouding his studio. “Doesn’t this situation remind you of anything?”

Yoongi continued to look at you in love – there was no other word to describe it. The sparkle in Yoongi's eyes was completed by the genuine smile that slightly curved his sweet lips. Yoongi's words were filled with a gentleness that only existed when he spoke to you, about you.

You pondered Yoongi's words. Your boyfriend's voice echoed in your mind with some care, stretching out the syllables, trying to search your memories for the words you should say. And then you remembered.

“The first grade!”

You spoke happily, memories of your childhood painting nostalgic pictures in your head, vibrant colors of happy moments radiating warmth to your heart.

“The first grade,” Yoongi repeated between small laughs as he adjusted himself on the couch. “We spent our afternoons trying to learn math together.”

“And we were never successful.”

Your laughter settled into two broad, longing, passionate smiles.

“I never told you this…” Yoongi was the first to break the silence that rested in the studio, going back to shuffle on the sofa, playing with the bottle a little more. “But, I think I started to like you at that time.”

Your eyes opened in awe, your boyfriend's confession bringing a little warmth to your heart.

“Come on, Yoonie. We were kids. It’s impossible to like someone that way.”

Accompanied by laughter, your words shaped the atmosphere of the studio into a place of comfort, of safety, of confession.

“I’m serious,” Yoongi placed one of his hands on your leg, stroking it gently. “Already at that age I knew that I wanted to stay with you for the rest of my life.”

Like a dove's feather hovering gently on a hot summer day, Yoongi's confession remained in his study as it got to know every nook and cranny, spreading its warmth across the room and nuzzling your heart.

Stay with you for the rest of his life.

In a way, those words danced in your mind, a complex waltz of possible futures moving through the halls of memories. In a way, those words gave you a shy smile, a gentle curve of embarrassment beautifying your face. In a way, those words settled in your heart, a homely comfort soothing your soul.

For the rest of his life.

“And how did you know?”

Your tone of voice was provocative, causing Yoongi to smile smugly.

“Because it was when I was with you that I could see the world in colors.” Yoongi let the bottle fall into his lap, one of his hands shyly searching for yours. “I believe that my life only began the day I met you. I woke up every day looking forward to go to school just to see you. And it was when we started dating that I started thinking about a future for me, for us.”

There was a passionate smile on your lips, a shiny curve that infected Yoongi and encouraged him to gently caress the soft skin of your hand.

“What was love like as a kid?”

“Weird,” a wistful laugh left Yoongi’s lips, his eyes locked on a long-lived past. “I just thought about annoying you just to have an excuse to talk to you.”

“Is that why you always stole my pencils?”

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders with a false air of innocence and you laughed. “But when our friendship started to become more natural, I only thought about you. How it was only with you that I could be myself. How it was only with you that I could really have fun. How you were the only one who gave me a purpose to wake up every day.”

“Do you have any songs about me that you haven’t shown me yet?”

Yoongi laughed, a strong, pink tone taking over his cheeks as he let go of your hand and returned to holding the bottle.

“Let's take it easy. We were talking about your poem.”

“Come on, Yoongi,” you smiled and gently pinched his stomach. “Tell me your secrets!”

Your boyfriend sighed as he let a smile be etched on his face. “I have two. One of them I wrote when I was at school.”

He got up carefully, walking to his desk and picking up a black notebook that was already quite corroded by time: the pages were damaged by humidity and water, the cover was a little torn and folded – that notebook seemed to have been loved.

“I carry this notebook everywhere,” Yoongi sat down next to you again and placed the notebook on his lap, encouraging you to come closer to him. “It’s where I have my first thoughts and songs as a dreamer. Among them the first song I wrote.”

“Rest of my life”, you read Yoongi’s handwriting like an incantation, your lips pronouncing each syllable with the flavor of importance and passion seasoning the title of that song. “Why didn’t you ever show me?”

“I was ashamed. It’s not my best work, y’know?”

“But you still keep it.”

“Because it is my most genuine and heartfelt song.”

Yoongi looked at you and you returned the look. In the shine of your boyfriend's eyes you saw your future together, a home and a family, an eternity of passion and complicity; in the curve of your boyfriend's lips you saw your shared past, infinite stories and memories, an extensive melancholy of a passionate history.

Before you kissed Yoongi, you smiled.

Your lips touched lightly for just a moment but it was enough to send warm waves through your body. It was incredible that after so many years of friendship and dating, Yoongi still had that pleasurable effect on you.

“Can I read it?”

“No,” Yoongi laughed again and closed the notebook.

“Come on! Please, Yoonie.”

Yoongi looked at you thoughtfully, seeing in your pleading eyes and your innocent smile the whole reason for that song. “It was because of you that I started dreaming of a future.”

Somehow, you noticed in Yoongi's shy and reserved tone that those words weren't random, that behind each letter and timbre there was a memory dear to him, a memory of something that was reserved forever in his heart.

“The seeds you planted bloom in my heart. Gardens of tulip petals adorn my desire for a future. I always daydream immersed in swan lakes about a tomorrow with you. I only ask that you stay with me for the rest of my life.”

Even before Yoongi finished his quote, you kissed him again, passion and magic joining your lips in a new promise of love.

“You’re right,” you placed your forehead against Yoongi’s and let out a small laugh. “It’s not your best work.”

“I’m gonna hit you.”

Between laughs, Yoongi kissed you again, pulling away quickly when the memory of the reason for your visit appeared in his mind.

“We’ve already talked about me, let’s go back to the poem.”

“I think I understand what I have to do,” your pencil twirled in your hand as words began to unite a web of thoughts inside your heart. “I just have to remember all the ways you love me and make me feel loved.”

Yoongi kissed your forehead before leaving you immersed in feelings and phrases, a little encouragement from Yoongi before he returned to his work.

ㅤㅤ♡ feedback is appreciated ♡

[yeetfanficccc]

How bout a dance? Wicked Boq x Reader

Authors note- bro 2 fics in 2 days who am I? Reader can be read as gender neutral. I wrote this in one sitting so sorry for any mistakes- enjoy fellow Boq simps (in this house we simp for the simp) AU where Nessa doesn't like him because that's too complicated my guy. Did I give this (Y/N) my kind of oblivious, a bit stupid personality? Yes.

There he was again. Within the day Fiyero had been at Shiz University, everything seemed to change. Classes felt shorter as students slacked off, the library had books scattered every place a book shouldn’t be, and people were dancing, genuinely dancing, with glee. It was the most fun I’d had in years. I needed more

“He’s kind of cute isn’t he? That Fiyero.” It was a question, but it felt like the most obvious statement in the world. Literally everyone, boys, girls, probably Oz himself, found Fiyero attractive. He was a magnet sucking the world in, and I wanted a taste of what that was like. 

Next to me Boq, my first friend at Shiz, pouted, “I don’t get why everyone is freaking out so much. He’s just some guy.”

If I was being honest with myself, Boq was way more my type. Kinda shy, kinda nerdy, with freckled cheeks, unruly red hair, and a genuine smile. The type to make you feel special. But, I saw how he looked at Galinda, like she was the most beautiful person in the world. So, I resigned myself to the flirty, pipe dream Fiyero. It made me feel less sore inside. 

“Boq, I have a plan. A stupid, crazy plan.”

“You’re implying that all of your plans aren’t stupid and crazy.”

“Crazy I’ll give you,” I smiled, “but not stupid.”

His lip curled, “(Y/N), you thought it would be funny if we told people we liked their hat for a week when they weren’t wearing one just to see when they crumble.”

“The best thing you can take from someone is their reality, besides it was harmless.”

“One guy started crying by day 3.”

“To which I promptly apologized.” 

“Oz,” he laughed, that honey suckle laugh. The one I could never get out of my head. I shot my gaze away. “You’re impossible.”

“Do you want to hear the plan? Or should I find someone else?”

“No,” he shot so fast it sent me back a bit, “I’m your guy. I’ll do anything for you. We’re a team.”

I ignored the heat rising on my face, “you know how a bunch of people are going to the OzDust tonight?”

“Yeah…?”

“And you want to get Galinda’s attention?”

“I did. But now I don’t know. Things have changed.” He wouldn’t meet my eye when he said the last bit. I frowned. 

“If you’re worried about Fiyero don’t be. That’s my part of the plan.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“We pretend to be in love, so much so that everyone is jealous of how desirable we are. Fiyero and Galinda are the type that need the spotlight. So, they will each see us as their ticket back to the center of attention.”

“You want us…. to be in love?” homeboy looked dazed. 

“Only pretend of course! Just until our respective person sees how great we are.” 

“I don’t think this plan will work.”

“Do you not think we can convincingly be in love?” I questioned.

“No. We can do that.” And there went his eye contact, “I just don’t think we can convince Galinda and Fiyero to be with us.”

“Maybe you’re right. Sorry,” I deflated, “I was just really zoned out and this idea came to me”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t try… for research.”

“Really! Boq you’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you…” this time, his eyes meet mine. Brown, like fine Earth melted in amber. I felt a stir in my chest. No, too complicated. Fiyero is brainless, fun- way less emotional investment. That is, hoping this plan worked. Which I definitely wanted!

“See you tonight!” 

That night, the OzDust

The OzDust was more magnificent that I imagined. Music swirled in the air, as crowds huddled around a gleaming dancefloor. Every color of the rainbow, and then some, was fashioned into skirts, suits, and corsets moving in rhythm. 

Boq wore a red velet suit as I dawned blue. Opposites, that somehow end up together.

“(Y/N), you look so stunning,“ Boq grinned his smile lines even up to his eyes, “like a painting or something.” Damn he’s a good actor.

“And you are the most handsome munchkin boy I’ve ever seen.”   

“Just munchkin?”

“Okay fine. Most handsome boy, no superlatives!” I teased bopping his nose. This clearly surprised him, but he quickly went with it. 

“My angel” he leaned in to kiss my cheek. I nearly fainted, the heart palpitations were back with a vengeance. Do it for the bit (Y/N). Do it for the bit. “Am I doing a good job?” 

His whispered words made me remember this is all an act. But he had such a puppy dog smile, like all that mattered was pleasing me. Damn… no Fiyero think unobtainable Fiyero. 

“You’re doing great. But I don’t think we’ve gotten their attention yet. Permission to turn it up a notch? If this is making you uncomfortable though, we can stop.” 

“I’m not as shy as people think I am, not when I’m with you.”

“Well then, let’s dance.”

“Let’s” he reached out his hand. 

The song was upbeat, fluid. Boq took me in his arms and glided me around the dancefloor. I felt like I had wings and was zooming through the clouds. 

“Is this, okay? Am I dancing too fast?” Boq asked. 

“No, you’re perfect.”

“Well then, I’m turning it up.” He laughed, “get ready (Y/N) (L/N), we’re going turbo mode.”

His goofy smile turned to a devilishly handsome grin. He spun and held me to the song perfectly like it was a big, rehearsed dance number. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so alive, so free. And it was all because of him. Just then, the song turned more jazzy, low, seductive. The notes caressed my ears as I could feel Boq’s hot breath on my cheek.

He dipped me. Something within me snapped, I leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. Warm honey.  Once I realized what I did, I pulled away, 

“I’m so sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

“(Y/N), I can’t keep lying to you. I like you, like a lot. I’m sorry if that ruins things but-“

“No. That ruins nothing. I like you, like a lot too.” My heart raced.

“But what about the plan?”

“It was a stupid and crazy plan. I only liked Fiyero because I needed a distraction. I haven’t even talked to him. I like you, this whole time I have.”

“Oh.” Boq blushed. It sent me to heaven.

“But I thought you liked Galinda. So, I didn’t think anything would happen with us.”

“I did. But then you came along and showed me I’m good as I am. You make me so happy.” 

“Boq, you are so sweet.”

“Can I be sweet… as your boyfriend?”

“Yes!” I shot, “please.”

“I’m sorry your plan didn’t work.” he placed a hand on my cheek, "you were so excited about it. It was really cute actually..."

“To be honest, I don’t think Galinda or Fiyero looked our way once. They were too busy with eachother… and themselves. It was a bad plan.”

"Or maybe you were secretly seducing me this whole time and playing mind games to make me jealous." Boq baited.

"Boq, I'm about as dull as brick when it comes to you how would I have found the sense to play mind games?"

"For the record, I was jealous when you wouldn't stop talking about how attractive Fiyero was."

"Now you now how I feel when you wouldn't shut up about Galinda when we first met!"

"It was a phase! A weird, weird phase."

“Well, I’m glad. Because now I have you. And you're stuck with me.” I gave him a light kiss on the cheek, he turned someone even redder.

"If you think I was kind of weird and obsessive about her, you have no idea how much I yapped about you whenever you weren't around."

"My handsome, silly Munchkin boy...."

We danced the rest of the night in each other’s arms, holding on to the joy in our hearts.

[da-rulah]

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader [Part 3]

Summary: At the request of Papa Emeritus III, you return to your duties around the Ministry, but when he reminds you of your absence from confessional in the past month, he asks you to return to where it all started...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 12k (lol wtf sorry guys this one ran away from me...)

Warnings: Pillow Humping, cunnilingus, panty-sniffing kink (once again, the glove returns...), honestly Copia just gets more pathetic in this part, vaginal fingering, premature ejaculation, cum eating, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, dirty talk (a lot of it...), lots of feelings, idiots to lovers

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: Guys... thank you all SO MUCH. The love for this fic has been bigger than I ever thought, and genuinely my heart is so full whenever I get a comment, a reblog, a message about it. I hope this is worth the wait, I know it's literally double the length of the other chapters but I really wanted you to enjoy and immerse yourself - there needed to be a decent enough pay-off after all the pining and angst 😂 Special thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for the beta reading and encouragement, and to @adinferix for their help with the Italian translation!

Copia had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t think of you today. Last night had been the last time. No, really.... He swore it. The moment he decided? When he’d woken up, face down in his pillows – after a night of self-indulgence that included another long-since dirtied and discarded pillow... - and realised that there was something stuck to his face.  

Your glove.     It had taken at least 25 minutes for the red imprint of that floral pattern to fade away from the pale skin across his cheek, and he’d been mortified - especially when brushing his teeth, having to stare at himself in the mirror with that pattern taunting him. He may as well have written “PERVERT” in sharpie across his cheek instead, for all the shame it brought him. 

That pattern was the reason for the Cardinal’s tardiness to his seminar that day, the man scurrying down the halls and checking his reflection in any and every passing surface possible to be sure that there was no longer an intrusive red flower burned into his pale skin.  

When he reached his classroom, everyone had taken to their seats already, some chattering away with each other as they waited, others impatiently tapping their feet or pencils with each passing second. Copia slunk into the classroom, muttering apologies with his eyes trained on the floor to avoid the death glares of the siblings who took their studies just a touch too seriously.  

Without further ado, the Cardinal began to make some notes on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. The chalk squeaked against the board, some of the siblings in the room whining incredulously at the sound and the chatter ceasing as if he’d done it deliberately to shush them.  

“Okie dokie, we will look today to focus on Latin pronunciation, and-” the Cardinal froze as he turned back to the class, eyes settling on a figure in the back corner.  

He must have been dreaming...   

There you sat, in your most conservative habit possible – purposefully changing after your meeting with Terzo that morning, your guilt for derailing the Cardinal in the confessional booth forcing you out of your impressive ensemble meant to manipulate Papa. 

Coming to Copia’s seminar was not a choice; you just desperately didn’t want Papa to bring Sister Imperator into this or get yourself in any more trouble. Terzo had spared you a punishment and you weren’t to take this for granted. So, you’d made sure you arrived with a group of other siblings, pushing through into the seminar room and plonking yourself in the very back corner in the hope he wouldn’t see you. 

But of course, he saw you. As if his body was magnetically drawn towards you, you were the first he laid his eyes on.  

You avoided his gaze, scribbling something down on the paper in front of you to look busy. You hadn’t missed his cut off sentence as his eyes settled on you, nor the lingering silence as you scribbled.  

‘Say something, Cardinal... Please say something. I can’t bear this...’ you thought, the seconds ticking by.  

“Mi dispiace (I’m sorry), I lost my train of thought for a moment. Pronunciation, sì, that’s where we were. Okay...” he shook his head, returning his attention to the class. He couldn’t focus on you now, couldn’t jeopardise himself that way. One wrong move, and you may disappear for another four weeks, or worse, and Satanas, he’d never forgive himself. That was not the kind of hell he wished to endure.  

Throughout the seminar, he would steal quick glances in your direction, as if making sure you were indeed still there, that you were real. Trying to find you before now had been like trying to catch smoke... downright impossible. His guilt gnawed at him like an insect burrowing into his skin, shame creeping over him each time he saw you staring down at your page.  

You didn’t want to be here, that much was clear to him. He’d made you uncomfortable, avoiding him... It stung him more than it should. 

“I... I think we’re done for today, classe (class) . Good job, molto bene (very good),” he fussed over the book on his desk as the class rose from their seats, gathering their things and heading for the door. In a moment of what he would describe as idiocy, he called out, “Uh, Sorella ______? Could I just...”  

But you were gone.   

Copia felt like a moron, embarrassed and pining over you as he watched you leave so quickly, quite obviously running from him. All he wanted to do was to apologise, to make you feel like you didn’t have to hide from him anymore. But you were that repulsed by him that you fled at the first chance you could.  

He huffed, dropping into his chair at his desk as the room emptied. He thought it over for a moment – you didn’t want to be in his class, and yet you came anyway. Why?  

Terzo... He had noticed your absence, questioned the Cardinal over it... Perhaps he’d told you to return to your duties, punished you...   

And that was all his fault. He’d upset you so much you’d avoided your duties, hidden yourself away. You were so repulsed by him that you couldn’t even look at him anymore. His sweet, most innocent Sorella…  

The Sorella who used to smile at him in the hallways, no matter who she was walking with.   

The Sorella who never missed a seminar he was hosting.   

The Sorella who only ever confessed on a Thursday, during his duty.   

The Sorella who kept stealing glances at him as his brothers performed Black Mass.  

Not anymore.  

How silly of him to think there was ever any chance you might not hate him. How silly of him to think you might actually be attracted to him, that you could be at all interested in the blithering idiot Cardinale who still reads Beano comics and relaxes with a Juicebox and video games at the end of the working week.  

Copia was always brushed to the side, never good enough for a woman as wonderful as you, as beautiful as you.  

How daft he felt, and how sick he felt knowing how he had defiled your trust – and continued to do so every. fucking. night. Behind your back, in the shame of his private quarters. 

Perverted old Cardinale Copia...  

Those moans, oh how he could write a symphony with those moans. They sounded so visceral and somehow so melodic rolling from your tongue as his rolled against your heat. And Sathanas, the taste... he devoured that sweetness like it was his last meal on Death Row. Your hands clutching his hair scraped their nails against his scalp and he growled into your mound with a deep vibration that drew more sweet, sweet moans from your lips.   

With two gloved fingers, he breached your walls and with expert precision, he found the spot only you had found yourself – no previous lovers ever able to satiate you like he could. You were his.   

His his his.  

Even through the leather, he could feel your warmth on his fingers, hear the hungry slurps of your pussy drawing him back in over and over with every pump of his fingers inside you.   

“Cardinal... Cardinal....” you chanted like a mantra, eyes screwed shut and breath laboured as he drew you closer and closer to an end, more of your juices seeping out and dripping onto his eagerly lapping tongue, until...  

Until...  

Sweat beaded on Copia’s forehead as his eyes shot open, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he lay in bed, his skin hot to the touch in the dark around him. His head snapped to the side, seeing the glowing red of his digital alarm clock reading 3:09am.  

He rubbed at his paintless eyes, groaning into the dark at the sticky feeling all over his body, the sweat now cooling in the night air and chilling him.  

Just a fucking dream.   

He could still taste you, still feel you, still hear you... How could he stop this? How would he ever be able to move on from this fucking chokehold you had on him? Does time heal all wounds?     Copia sure hoped so.  

In the dark, he felt the familiar need in his groin – a stiffness he wouldn’t be able to shake so easily. He didn’t want to, not again. Already he felt like a total degenerate, jacking off to the smell of your used glove a nightly occurrence. But now he was dreaming of you?  

With reluctance, he shifted the sheets and let his naked form hit the cold air around him, thick cock standing to attention. He threw an arm over his eyes, his other reaching down until he could lazily stroke the shaft of his shame a few times.  

Here we go again, he thought to himself in disgust.  

But disgust wasn’t enough to quell the rising lust he felt, and his hand began to pump his length with vigour as he recounted the details of the dream that woke him.  

He whimpered into the night, the heavy arm across his eyes shielding himself from his own depravity only getting heavier. His hips started to roll against the mattress, meeting his fist over and over. He couldn’t take this, he wanted so badly to bury himself, to grind down, to feel pressure...   

He sat upright, reaching behind him for one of the silk pillows he lay on before. He got up onto his knees, folding the pillow in two to create a crease and pushed it into his mattress, lining his hips up with it.   

And like the dirty old cardinal he was, he pushed his cock into the crease, groaning into a tight fist as he did.  

He leaned his weight over onto the hand pinning the pillow down and began to roll his hips into the softness, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as images of you flashed in his mind. That dream, it had felt so... so real? As if he could taste you still, smell you still... 

And he could, of course, once his hand had snaked under the remaining pillows to retrieve that damned glove he was far too lazy to hide properly these days. He humped the pillow he buried his cock into like a horny teenager, holding that glove against his nose and mouth as he got faster and faster, inhaling.  

“Ohhh, cazzo... (fuck),” he groaned, picturing you beneath him, his cock pistoning in and out of you. How good you’d feel beneath him, how slick, and wet, and warm you’d be for him. The noises from the confessional booth still haunted him, ricocheting off the inside of his skull as he buried himself over and over.   

“Sorella... Hmmm,” he hummed, “______, merda (shit).” His hips stuttered, the silk dampened with precum giving just enough friction... He wished it was you so badly, your pussy enveloping him. He craved it, like he couldn’t bear to go on without having you, even if it were just once.  

He bit his lip as he growled, hunching over the pillow like an animal and spilling his cum into the crease. His hips slowed, lazily rocking back and forth as he milked the rest of his spend until he could take it not more, letting go of the silk and falling face first into the rest of his bedding, uncaring of the mess beneath him. 

Integrating yourself back into the Ministry life hadn’t been nearly as hard as you had thought, managing to avoid the Cardinal everywhere other than that damn seminar. You’d heard him call out to you as you were leaving, but it only made your feet carry you faster past your Siblings and out into the hall to escape. You knew it was cowardly, but you weren’t ready to have to explain yourself to him, to see the disappointment in his face or to chastise you for what you’d coerced him into doing.  

You knew today you could evade him, his schedule keeping him busy all day and out of your current hiding place; the library.  

You adored this library... The corridors were like a maze, easy enough to get lost in your pursuit of knowledge. In dark nooks, high back leather chairs to read in sat in dim lamplight. Artistic renditions of Satanic teachings littered the ceilings as they might in a Catholic church – except, it was Lucifer who danced through each scene instead of Jesus. Dark wooded desks for studying or translating lined up in the middle of the lobby, two grand staircases winding up the walls opposite each other to the second floor. In between the staircases, was the most beautiful part of all... 

On the floor sat a reversed Pentagram, carved into stone with pictures of Lucifer and his most feared animals painted into the ramp where the staircases met – goats, cats, owls, bats... the misunderstood creatures tied to him. Carved into the outer edge of the pentagram sat purple stained Atropa belladonna flowers and vines, and atop the raised pentagram sat a marble statue of a white snake winding around a black pedestal. In the mouth of the snake, stuck between the fangs, was the ripest red apple – a symbol of Lucifer’s temptation, his greatest triumph in the Garden of Eden.  

That statue always seemed to steal your breath away, as it did anyone who gazed upon it. The care and attention to detail, the way it always shined in the faux candlelight – real was too dangerous around the ancient texts and antique furniture throughout the library – it was just so spectacular.  

It was a beautiful place to spend your day, but it served a purpose today. You chose one of the leather high back chairs just off from the lobby to relax and catch up on some reading you’d neglected in your time spent hiding.   

As you neared the end of the book you were studying – an old Catholic tome you struggled to translate from the dusty pages – you decided to find the book that you knew countered the Catholic teachings, so you could cross reference and perhaps understand the old book better.  

You stood, taking the Catholic tome with you into the rows of tall bookshelves in search of the Satanic counterpart. It had to be up on the fourth shelf, just out of reach. Sighing dramatically in your own laziness, you reached for the running ladder at the end of the shelves, dragging it along its tracks to the spot you had been standing. You rested the book in your arms on a lower shelf, and starting to climb the rungs of the ladder.  

In your haste, the long skirt of your chosen conservative habit – the ones you had taken to wearing every day now that you were to be out and about around the Cardinal again – became trapped under your foot and naturally, you slipped from a few feet off the ground, losing your grip and balance.  

Two unassumingly strong arms stopped you before you could hit the marble flooring, wrapping around your waist and tugging you to a body behind you to stop you meeting a rather bruising conclusion.     “Careful, Sorella...” the chest you were pressed against vibrated with a deep chuckle. “Pretty girls should not be covered in accidental bruises, eh?”  

You stumbled to your feet, straightening out your habit and turning to see Terzo smirking at you, his ghostly eye somehow even more bewitching in the dim lamplight.     “Grazie (thank you), Papa... I slipped on...” 

“Sì, your habit,” his eyes raked over your form, confusion furrowing on his brow as he remembered the other morning in his office – you'd been wearing something much more to his liking. “I must say, I preferred the shorter one, mia cara . With the red stitching...” he winked.  

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you averted your eyes from his.  

“Did you only wear that for me, tesoro? ” he winked, taking a step towards you, “Thought it would get you out of trouble, eh?” His teasing flustered you, and you couldn’t string a full sentence together as your heart pounded in your ears, breathing irregular to compensate for the rush of oxygen to your brain. He laughed as you stuttered a denial. 

“Speaking of trouble, have you been attending your duties, sorella? Did you go to Copia’s seminar?” he stepped back again out of your personal space, allowing you to breathe normally once again. 

“Sì, Papa.” 

“And was he... happy to see you?” he asked, arching a brow. His tone confused you, like he expected a specific reaction. But Terzo was fishing... he suspected the Cardinal had a crush and was doing anything he could to put you in Copia’s way. He was making you dance around him, like the carrot on a string to tempt the donkey.... 

“Uh... I don’t know,” you thought back to the way his face fell when his eyes caught yours, the way his breath caught in his throat and the look of fear as his skin had paled to a grey colour. “Perhaps he was surprised.” 

Terzo’s face screwed up in confused annoyance. He’d expected better from the Cardinal, for him to be more welcoming when he so clearly had missed you around the Ministry. He’d asked Terzo to keep an eye out for you, to tell him immediately if he saw you, after all.  

“Well, I’m glad you’re back to your schedule, mia cara. But you know,” Terzo had a plan... He enjoyed meddling in the Cardinal’s affairs, and well, anyone’s ... “I must insist you attend confessional before today is out.” 

Your heart dropped in your chest. You fought to keep your face neutral, quelling every natural urge to look absolutely petrified of the thought. Because of course he would want you to attend confessional today.  

On a fucking Thursday.  

“It’s been a while, no? If you were gone for four weeks, you must be overdue?” he quizzed.  

“W-well, yes...”   

“We can’t have you falling behind, mia cara. I’m sure you have something to confess to the Dark Lord,” he turned on his expensive Cuban heels, “I must go, I have some uh... business to attend concerning a rather beautiful Librarian,” he began sauntering off into the bookshelves, “By tonight, per favore, sorella !” he called out behind him. 

Just as before, your shoes echoed on the Ministry floors as you walked to the Chapel. Except tonight, they felt louder and louder, ringing in your ears with each step. Your legs carried you on autopilot, unable to disobey a Papa’s direct instruction.  

Why did he choose tonight of all nights? It felt like returning to the scene of a crime... You didn’t know what you were going to say, what you could possibly confess to the Cardinal this evening that you’d done in the last few weeks when quite obviously you hadn’t done anything at all... 

The Chapel was steeped in dim candlelight, completely void of any signs of life. You stood in the doorway for a moment, staring like a deer caught in headlights at the booth at the other end of the room. A shiver ran over your spine, a nasty reminder that you were supposed to move, to go and sit in that infernal wooden box next to the source of your embarrassment, your fear... your lust.  

Because of course, despite your efforts to pretend he didn’t exist, your brain liked to remind you at night that he most certainly did. Except now, the grunts and groans of his pleasure were accurate, burned into your memory and used against you as a weapon as you slept.  

With a push, you entered the Chapel, somehow speed-walking to sit inside the booth beside the Cardinal who jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut a little too hard. You wasted no time.  

“Bless me, Cardinal, I have sinned,” you deadpanned.  

Beside you, the Cardinal sat bolt upright, eyes staring into his peripheral vision, afraid to make a move and look directly at the shadow beside him. If he made any sudden movements, perhaps you’d disappear in a puff of smoke... 

He cleared his throat quietly.     “Which of the sins have you committed, Sorella?” He stuck to his duty, as you stuck to yours. He wasn’t about to risk trying to have any other kind of conversation with you right now. Perhaps he could try after...  

But what the fuck would he even say to you? He wanted so desperately to apologise, but he couldn’t completely clear his conscience without admitting to everything that’s happened since the last time you sat beside each other in this damned booth. And there was no way he could do that, not without the promise that the ground would open up beneath his feet and plunge him into the deepest pit of hell the second he finished confessing. 

Beside him, you waited a moment, trying to think of something to confess to, but your mind was screaming the same thing at you.     Lust. Lust. Lust. Lust. LUST.  

“Sloth, Cardinal,” you huffed, “I’ve neglected my duties.” Coward, you scolded yourself. Not that it was a lie, of course. But... you couldn’t just own up to the worst of your sins. 

Copia’s shoulders relaxed next to him, a sigh leaving his lips. Part of him was terrified you might say lust again – he wasn’t sure he could take that torture. 

“Do you wish to elaborate, sorella? Is there a reason for your sloth?” he asked, as if he was trying to hurt himself further. He knew it was him – he was the reason. You were avoiding him, disgusted by him.  

“I did something terrible, and... I’ve been hiding,” you admitted. The cardinal was confused... What could you, his sweet sorella, have possibly done that was so terrible? Lucifer, you didn’t mean him? Were you that horrified by him?   

“Sorella, there’s no need to hide, you... uh...” he couldn’t think straight, his heartbeat rising in his chest as he panicked. He didn’t know what to say... Almost as if he were to absolve you of your sins but that wasn’t what confessional was for? But he wanted so badly to comfort you, to tell you it was okay, that he was so sorry... So very sorry for putting you in that position all those weeks ago.  

And on the other side of the lattice, there you sat, feeling sorry for ever entering the booth that night, for pushing him into such a situation with a member of his congregation, for defiling his position as Cardinal.  

Both two different sides of exactly the same coin. 

“I... I can’t do this, Cardinal. I’m sorry...” you rushed, pushing your way out of the booth and running through the Chapel. Copia sat for a moment, frozen in shock and disappointment when his body reacted before his mind could.   

He got up, and chased you. Out through the Chapel, down the hall where the clacking of your shoes was still echoing off the marble. But he kept running, desperately trying to find you without tripping on his cassock. He had to find you. He couldn’t let you stay like this, so angry and disgusted at him. He needed to apologise, even if that meant admitting to all the rest...    

“Sorella, wait!” he called, the halls empty for the time of evening it was. He was grateful, chasing a mere shadow through the halls like a predator on the hunt for his prey. Except that’s the last thing he wanted you to feel; hunted.  

You found it too difficult to run in your habit, far too long for you. You cursed as you stumbled, somehow managing to stay on your feet in the pursuit of your dorm but the Cardinal was faster than he looked, and before you knew what had happened you felt a grip on your arm dragging you into a nearby door, letting go as soon as you’d been almost flung into the room.   

The door slammed, and the Cardinal stood against it, breathless and looking distraught.  

“Cardinal, don’t make me s-” you wanted to apologise, to beg to spare you the shame of saying aloud what you’d been thinking since that first confessional... but he interrupted you.   “Sorella, mi dispiace if I frightened you, but I owe you an ap-” 

“Cardinal please, I can’t-”    “Mia cara, just listen...” he begged, but neither of you could get a word in edgeways.  

“I’m sorry, okay? I can’t help it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable...” you cried, eyes filling with tears as you yelled your sorrows at him.     “What? What are you-” his confusion painted his features, hardened lines forming in his face.  

“Y-you’ve always been so good to me, and I don’t want to make you feel awkward or put you through that ever again. I should never have made you do that, I’m so ashamed of myself,” you rabbited on, wailing at him with four weeks of pent-up embarrassment spewing out your mouth. But the Cardinal stared at you as the cogs in his brain turned, realising what you were actually apologising for.  

“Are you sorry for your dream, mia cara?” he asked you softly, taking a step to stand of his own accord instead of leaning his back against the closed door.  

“Yes!” you yelled, “That and... well... what happened. It was too far, I put you in such an uncomfortable position and that’s not fair of me at all. Cardinal please forgive me, I’m trying not to have these thoughts-”     “You’re still having them?” his head cocked to the side, eyes squinting as he processed your rantings. 

“Well, um... I... yes, but I’m working on it, I’m trying to busy myself with other things and I thought that maybe if I hid for a while that I could stop it, not that I could look you in the eyes again anyway after what I did, and...” 

Copia had heard enough. He strode towards you through the rows of desks and chairs surrounding him, pressing the palm of his glove to your mouth to quiet you and in turn, pushing you to lean back against the solid oak desk behind you.     “Sorella, please...” 

That moment, singularly, was the beginning of your downfall. When you felt the leather of his glove press against your lips, his body pressing against yours as you stumbled back, and you whined against his hand...  

Copia’s eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected that at all. His movements were not meant to be at all provocative in nature; he had simply panicked, needing you to hush so he could speak, to apologise and not knowing how else to do so. But now... Well, he could see the crimson colour of your cheeks under his glove, matched with the look of shock on your own face. That noise; it was completely involuntary. But it came from a place of lust...    Of submission. 

A beat of silence passed between you, the air appearing to be sucked out of the room completely, suffocating you both where you stood. Your screamed at yourself inside your head, cursing how pathetically easily you had succumbed to the slightest touch and showed your hand before any kind of game had truly even begun.  

“You must learn when to quiet this pretty mouth of yours and listen...” The cardinal tested his limits, watching your response. He noticed the way your chest rose and fell deeply and slowly beneath him, and how your eyes softened a little as they scanned his face and found no real anger there, only the hint of a smirk. “Now, give me a nod or a shake of your head, eh? I want to ask you a few things. Nod if you understand.”  

You nodded, his hand still pressed firmly to your mouth.  

“Are you still having these dreams, Sorella?” You shut your eyes now, embarrassed, and slowly nodded your head.     “And are you still... enjoying these dreams?” he spoke slowly, deliberately. You nodded again, hesitant. 

“And have you acted on these dreams since, tesoro?” You took a few deep breaths before answering again; a slow, ashamed, but deliberate nod.  

Copia sucked a lungful of oxygen in through his teeth, watching your eyes on him as he did. His head swam in a dizzying array of images; thoughts of the dream you had told him about in such detail, thoughts of you alone at night thinking of him, touching yourself for him. As he exhaled, he looked away from you, breaking the eye contact you held in fear and finally looking around the room.  

The seminar room...  

… from your dream.  

A wicked smirk spread across the Cardinal’s face, and as you followed his gaze around the room, you realised why. You dare not move, holding your breath as he turned back to you, his beautifully monochrome eyes hooded and boring down into yours. 

“It’s here, no?” he asked. You didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. “This is where your fantasia (fantasy) takes place, eh? Answer me, tesoro. ..”  

You nodded against his hand again, shame flooding your cheeks with warmth. The stirring in your abdomen was growing the longer he stood pressing you into the desk behind you. It was maddening.  

“I press you against this desk in that dream, hm?” he knocked on the wood you leaned on with his free hand, in turn pressing just a little tighter against you. You could feel his body heat through his cassock, and it served to focus your own heat between your legs... “Will you remind me, mia cara , what exactly did I do here?” 

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth to let you answer him with words – except, you could find none. You stuttered and fumbled as you stared into his eyes, his face so close to yours you could smell his cologne stronger than you ever had. It was utterly intoxicating, a sweet yet smoky aroma. 

“Come, now, dolcezza ... Don’t hold out on me now, hm?” The back of his fingers met your cheek, lightly grazing the blush soothingly. “What. Did. I. do?”  

There was no escaping this, not that you wanted to. You were so close, your dream practically coming true before you. You may not be able to forgive yourself for pushing your Cardinal over the lines of professionalism all those weeks ago, but here he was, quite obviously flirting with you, enticing you.  

Tempting you.  

And you would never forgive yourself for fumbling this, for running and hiding once again. And that guilt would be worse, embedded with more shame and embarrassment than ever before. 

“You... were kissing me...” you whispered. The Cardinal smiled – not the dirty little smirk from before, more of a satisfactory smile, sweeter.  

“Tesoro, I’ll only ask you once – and whatever the answer, I will respect it,” he began, some nerves starting to bubble up in his chest. He feared rejection more than anything, having been rejected his entire life. Could he take it if you rejected him too? He wasn’t sure, but he had to try...  “Would you like me to kiss you?” 

Your chest bloomed with warmth, eyes flickering down to his half-painted lips and back to his eyes, somehow looking more puppy-dog like as the seconds ticked by. You realised then, he was scared of you saying no. Scared...   

But you could never deny your Cardinal.  

Words had failed you, that much was clear. And so, you opted for almost involuntary action, slowly leaning forwards against him until your lips barely grazed his. Copia could have sworn he felt his lips tingle where they’d brushed with yours; such a fleeting touch, unsure of yourself but it was all the answer he needed.  

He leaned in again, pressing his lips to yours for a kiss that took your breath away... His lips melded into yours with such a longing, both of you easily losing yourself in the moment. Just as in your dream, you sank into him, your hands gripping onto his cassock as he deepened the kiss. His arms had snaked around your waist, pulling your hips flush against him as he hummed into your mouth. 

Just as you imagined every night, one of his hands came to remove your veil, letting your hair fall freely while he worked his way past your lips with his tongue, gently mixing with your own as you fell further into him. You whined at the sensation, feeling his hands regroup and tighten on your waist as you did.  

He pulled away from you breathless, the black paint of his top lip smudged slightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, searching your eyes for any sign you wanted to back out, but finding nothing.  

“You look so beautiful without your veil, dolcezza...” he whispered before he could stop himself. Mentally, he scolded himself for being such a lovesick idiota, but the way you looked into his eyes and smiled was everything he had hoped for. He twirled a strand of your hair in his fingers, watching it as he curled it around the leather. “I had no idea you had all this under there, eh?” he chuckled, “ bellissima (beautiful).”  

He dropped the strand and instead came to hold your chin between this thumb and finger.  

“Now tell me, what happens next in that dream of yours again?” Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to punch straight through your ribs to get to him. This was happening. This wasn’t you pushing him into anything, you weren’t undermining his authority. He wanted this. He wanted you.   

“Your hands... they slide up my habit...” you muttered, shy.  

“Like this?” he narrated, crouching momentarily to hook his hand under your habit, trailing slowly up your leg until the skirt hung lopsided around your upper thigh. You nodded at him, watching as his eyes never left yours. “And do I touch you here, mia cara? ” His palm cupped your mound over your panties, and he could feel the searing heat emanating from your core through the leather of his glove.  

The noise you made was involuntary – a soft gasp that made his already half-hard length twitch with interest beneath the heavy wool of his clothes. He didn’t wait for you to answer him, his question more of a rhetorical tease. Instead, he slid his hand against you, pressing against your entrance while his palm sat heavy against your clitoris.  

“Cardinal...” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to a perfectly round ‘O’.  

He continued to tease for a moment, enjoying the soft mewls and sharp breaths you took each time he would alternate the pressure between his palm and his fingers. But he only had so much control, after weeks of pining, of dreaming of you, fucking his damn pillows to the memory and the scent of you. 

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs and letting them hit the floor around your feet. Without wasting a second or daring to look away from the blissful expression on your face, he dipped his fingers between your folds, dragging them painfully slowly through the mess you had made for him. The choked moan you let out at the sensation of that damned glove sliding through rang out against the stone walls of the seminar room.  

Copia collected some of your mess on his glove, lifting his hand into the dim candlelight of the room to see the way it shined. It reminded him of the moment he’d found your sodden glove in the booth, how it left the darker wet marks where he’d held it. Except this time, he was blessed enough to have it right from the source.  

“ Splendido... (splendid)” he mumbled, before you opened your eyes to watch him bring his shimmering glove to his lips, tasting what he’d taken. The way he groaned at the sweetness had you clenching around nothing, fisting the cassock you still had such a tight grip on. “I can’t deny myself, dolcezza ... Not anymore.” 

Before you had time to linger on his words – not anymore... - he dropped to his knees in front of you, as if ready to worship. He adjusted the skirt of your habit for you to hold around your hips, still covering your modesty for now. Both his hands slid up your thighs, parting them as he slotted in-between, finally coming to uncover you for him. 

The way you glistened for him made his concealed erection throb, and as much as he wanted to dive in and devour you whole, he didn’t want to rush this. He’d waited too long to be sloppy here. Instead, he pressed his lips to your inner thighs, enjoying the way they trembled in anticipation. Slowly, he made his way up, his breath tickling and warming the trail of wet he’d left with his tongue.  

Finally, his lips pressed against your mound. As painful as it was to have him tease, to gently kiss you where you so desperately needed more, you were grateful for any contact at all after the weeks of anguish believing he held no feelings other than disappointment and disgust for you.  

When the Cardinal at your feet finally allowed his tongue to slip between your folds, you couldn’t help the hand that flew to knock his biretta off his head, grasping at the peppered grey hair that grew beneath it. He groaned against you; at your taste, at your heat, at your grip. It was all so wonderfully intoxicating.  

As he let himself bury his tongue in you, he lifted one of your thighs over his shoulder for better access for him, and stability for you. He wrapped his arm around that thigh, gripping on for dear life as if you’d disappear on him again. But you were going nowhere anytime soon... 

As he mouthed at your clit, he couldn’t help the grunts and groans that rumbled like thunder against you, vibrating through you. You threw your head back in pleasure, uncaring of how loud your moans and whimpers were.  

When Copia started to slide his middle finger through your folds below his tongue, you almost collapsed back onto the desk. He pressed against your entrance, slowly allowing his leather-clad finger to slide inside you. He never stopped his tongue, never came up for breath.  

When he had his ring finger join the other, you began to see stars. He filled you so well, scissoring inside you and curling up towards that glorious spot inside you that no other had ever found.  

“C-Cardinal... ahh,” you whimpered. It fuelled him further, hearing his title fall from your lips above him. It was all too much for him; your taste, your grip. And now that? Oh, how sinful it sounded, how beautiful, like the prettiest songbird singing its morning melody.  

He was ashamed to admit that what you were doing to him had such a tight grasp on his sanity, he was losing himself in his mind and his body was following suit. While he had no friction, no pressure, nothing to help the painful need in his crotch, he was so close...  

In his reverie, he lifted your other thigh over his shoulder, burying his face further into you as he continued using his fingers to bring you closer and closer to the edge. You had to grip the desk under you to steady yourself, allowing his animalistic urges to take total control of your body. This was nothing like your dream.  

This was so much better.  

His tongue lavished against your clit unforgivingly, lips circling and suckling from time to time as he drank you in.  

“F-fuck, Cardinal... I can’t,” you begged for nothing above him, so close to the edge, dangling by a splintering branch over a deep canyon that was ready to snap at any moment. You couldn’t help the way you bucked your hips anymore, or the way you ground your pussy down into his face, his nose becoming a tool for pleasure as much as his tongue, lips and chin.  

That splintering branch snapped clean off when he growled into you, and suddenly you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, back slamming down into the hard wood of the desk behind you. If you felt any pain at all, it didn’t show – you were too busy writhing and squeezing your thighs around poor Copia’s head.  

What you didn’t know, was that the growl that had pushed you into your earth-shattering orgasm had been a growl not only of lust, but of anger. At himself.  

Beneath you, Copia was squeezing your thigh with the hand that wasn’t buried inside you, desperately trying to stop himself... But his poor, untouched cock had violently flinched beneath his cassock before spilling a hot load of his seed. Copia had cum just from eating you out.  

If he didn’t feel like a pathetic pervert before tonight, he certainly did now. Who cums from just going down on a woman?  

Oh, but you were not just any woman, were you? Not to him. You were the woman he pined over, stressed over, cried over, came over every fucking night for four wretched weeks. What it was about you, he wasn’t sure, but the Cardinal had never been so besotted with a woman in his life. Dare he say it, it had started long before that night in the confessional booth... He had been drawn to you since the day you took your vows.  

And no, he just couldn’t help himself.  

You lay on the desk, catching your breath and waiting for your head to stop spinning as your limbs went lifeless around him, one slipping from his shoulder. He detached himself from your core and stood up, readjusting himself in his pants for a more comfortable position now that the wet patch in his underwear was beginning to seep through to bloom into a deep red stain on his cassock. But there was no getting comfortable with his softening cock confined and covered in his own spend.  

He stepped towards you, between your legs and reached for your hand with the glove that wasn’t still glistening with your arousal. He lifted it to his completely smudged lips, peppering the back of it with chaste kisses as you came to.  

“Mia cara... are you... okay?” he mumbled between kisses. You hummed an affirmative response back, your mind still foggy in post-orgasm haze.  

Copia continued peppering kisses to the back of your hand, to each fingertip, your wrist, a little way up your arm and back down as he waited patiently for you to come back around to him. Eventually, you sat up, pushing your habit down to cover your modesty once again. He held your hand in his, gazing up into your eyes with a soft expression you couldn’t quite read. 

When you really looked at him, you couldn’t help but giggle. His paint was smudged around his mouth, a grey hue painting him from his nose to his chin, and his hair was so dishevelled he looked as if he had been dragged through a hedge.  

“What’s so funny, cara ?” he smiled with you, the kind of smile you can’t keep off your face when someone you adore is laughing near you.  

“You look a mess,” you laughed, smoothing out the parts of his hair that were sticking up.  

“Ah, sì, you have quite a grip,” he chuckled, looking away for a moment, suddenly bashful. “I trust that was not so bad, eh?” he bit his lip as he waited for your response, a little smug smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“Better than my dream, Cardinal,” you shyly admitted. “But um... my dream doesn’t end there...” 

Copia’s smile dropped, realising what you were hinting at. You weren’t done yet... You wanted more from him. But in order to perform, he would have to reveal what you so far had missed.  

Before he could protest, your hand was cupping his bulge under his cassock, but as you pressed your palm there, your eyes grew wide, and your gaze dropped to look at what you’d felt.  

Wet.   

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...”  

Someone had stoked the dissipating fire inside you once again, and a flame began to burn. You weren’t sure if it was knowing that Copia had cum in his pants at the taste of you, or if it was his dumbstruck look as he tried to rectify the situation with words but knowing he had been so enamoured with you that he’d reached his end even whilst neglected... that was hotter than you could have ever imagined.  

“What was it, Cardinal?” you interrupted him. He silenced quickly, cocking his head in confusion. “Was it how I sounded?” You pressed your palm to the soft bulge beneath you, not at all bothered by the wet fabric. 

“Was it how I tasted?” you asked, your confidence growing as his eyes widened in shock.  

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” The heel of your palm dug into him, rotating in a small circle over his cock.  

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” You heard him moan softly as you stared into his eyes. His cock was beginning to twitch in interest again.  

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”   

That did it. Without a word, the man before you wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you to him to crash your lips together. You’d awoken something inside him, a beast that he’d been keeping tame until now. Between desperate clashes of lips and tongues, Copia began to tease you back. 

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?” he panted against your lips like a dog in heat, “it was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you,” he paused for another heated kiss, “ finally tasting what I’ve been desiring for so long,” and another, “but that I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”   

You whimpered at his words, knowing every single one was no lie. But hearing Copia call you his had you arching your back to press against him, your hips desperately seeking him out and your lips messily found his again.  

 Terzo yawned as he walked down the halls of the ministry, the days of solid paperwork and papal duties - not the mention his library rendezvous earlier that day... - catching up to him as he slogged back to his quarters. The halls were dark, silent. He didn’t rush – he didn’t have the energy to. His mind wandered as he dawdled, taking in the stained glass around him with every step he took.   

He rounded a corner, and thought he could hear shuffling coming from inside one of the seminar rooms. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the thought of having to put on his big scary Papa voice and tell whoever was out of bounds this late to go back to their dorms. Why did they make him work so hard, eh?   

As he drew closer to the door of a room he presumed was the one inhabited, he heard voices. He reached for the doorknob, until the voices registered, and he realised... These were voices he recognised...  

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...” Was that Cardinal Copia he heard stammering away in there like a moron? Well, as a higher up member of the clergy, he was okay to be out of bounds at this hour. Terzo shrugged to himself and started to turn away from the door – whatever the Cardinal was up to in there was his business. And frankly, Terzo was too tired to even realise he had been speaking to someone...    

“What was it, Cardinal?” Terzo stopped, his brows pulling together in thought. That had sounded like you, Sister _____?  What would she be doing alone with the Cardinal at this hour?   

Terzo was now intrigued, and hung around for a moment. 

“Was it how I sounded?” What on earth was she talking about?   

“Was it how I tasted?” Terzo’s eyes widened, his jaw falling open. Had he heard that right?  

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” This was not the same Sorella _____ he knew, surely not? Such filth spilling from her mouth... He almost felt a swell of pride in his chest. 

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” Terzo all but jumped with giddiness at the door, keeping himself as quiet as possible to not alert those inside. He heard the Cardinal moan the most pathetic little sound, and slapped his gloved hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Oh, fratellino, you are down BAD...    

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”  

Terzo’s hand dropped when his jaw hit the floor, completely taken aback by your brazen use of such a sinful phrase. He’d clearly stumbled upon something already in motion... Suddenly, he heard a quick shuffle, followed by a suppressed moan from you and a hungry growl from the Cardinal. Terzo jumped away from the door as if it had burst into flames.  

Now, Terzo was certainly a pervert. But he was not about to eavesdrop on his brother fraternising with a sister of sin. He recoiled at the thought, shivering as he backed away to the far wall of the opposite corridor. He stood frozen for a moment, his body not reacting anywhere near fast enough.   

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?.... It was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you... but I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”  

That did it. Terzo turned and bolted down the corridor to get away from the lip-smacking sounds and the whines you let slip.  

As he rounded the corner and managed to get away from the noises that frankly would now haunt him in his dreams, he couldn’t help but feel a little... proud.    

That had been his doing. He’d pushed them together, forced them into each other’s presence knowing how absolutely pitiful and sciocco (foolish) the pair of you were being. Terzo certainly wasn’t blind – he'd seen the Cardinal’s affections, saw how your absence had affected him so. Now he was beginning to think your disappearance may even have had to do with him, in some way. Avoiding him, perhaps?  

Not that it mattered. For now, he was proud that his fratellino was making a move – however mentally scarring that move had been to overhear. 

And he told you that you were his, too. The meaning of that may have been lost in the moment, but it certainly wasn’t lost on Terzo. Copia meant that with every fibre of his being.  

He smiled to himself as he continued to walk to his chambers. For all the teasing and all the jokes Terzo made at Copia’s expense as they were growing up, he had to admit, he turned out alright in the end. His goofy little half-brother who kept his secret Beanos and drank his little juice boxes. He chuckled to himself – he certainly was proud of him. And finally, someone else saw him for more than a bumbling idiot. Someone finally didn’t underestimate him the way the rest of the ministry did.  

“Ben fatto (good job) , Terzo,” he smirked to himself. His little plan had worked; albeit, far sooner than expected, and just a little too well. 

He would be working hard this evening to forget what he’d just overheard...

Copia’s grip on your thighs around his hips tightened as he deepened your kiss, the leather of his gloves tightening and squeaking over his taught hands. You were sure he would leave bruises with how hard he held you, pulling you flush against him until your core pressed against his hardening length. You didn’t care though; any mark he left on you was like a badge of honour.  

“Dolcezza, what do you want from me, eh?” he pleaded, breathless as he trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw and to your neck, never once disconnecting his lips along the way.   

“All of you, Cardinal...” you practically sang, “ please...”   

He hummed against your neck, lost entirely to his visceral need to devour you whole. You threaded your hands in his hair again, holding him tight to you as you let your head fall back, enjoying the kisses, the nips and bites, the suckling against your skin that bloomed in beautiful red and purple patches. 

Copia stood upright for a moment, biting at the leather on his right hand to free himself of his glove and spitting it to one side before he lay his palm on your cheek. He drank you in with his eyes, hooded and blown out with lust. You nuzzled into him instinctively searching out his touch, your lips finding his thumb to pepper kisses to the tip. It felt oddly intimate, more so than having his face buried between your thighs.  

No one ever saw the Cardinal – or any clergy member, for that matter – without their gloves. Their bare touch was saved for those they devoted it to, and here he was, baring himself to you . 

You pressed a final kiss to his thumb, before allowing your tongue to lave over the pad of it, your lips following to engulf his thumb in the warmth of your mouth. Copia hummed in front of you, his other hand squeezing your thigh tightly as he watched. 

“Cosa ho fatto per meritarti, tesoro? (What did I do to deserve you, sweetheart?)” he groaned, pushing his thumb to smear your spit over your lips, adoring the way they glistened for him in the low light. “I want to give you all of me,” he slid his hand to your neck, a wet trail left along your skin by the saliva still on his thumb, and gripped tight enough to send a wave of excitement through you. “Every last inch...” 

You whined for him again, as your body seemed to do of its own accord, and let him capture your lips in another kiss. You could no longer stand it – you needed him, like the moon needs the sun to glow brightly in the night.   

Hastily, you reached for the buttons of his cassock, making quick work of them until he could shrug out of the heavy red wool and let it fall to the floor. He helped you then, to remove his jacket underneath while you focussed on freeing his length.  

“A little messy, mi dispiace ,” he smirked, not sorry at all for the mess he’d made when he now knew how much that had turned you on. On another occasion, you would have liked to sink to your knees, clean him up and ready him for what came next but there was no time for that. Messy or not, you simply needed him.  

You didn’t even attempt to remove his pants, instead pushing them just a little further down his hips to allow you to reach into his underwear and take him in your hand. He hissed through his teeth like you’d scalded him, but instead rocking his hips to chase your touch. He had been correct, there was certainly a mess in there – one that coated your hand as you pulled his erection free and pumped along his length once, twice...  

“ Cazzo... (Fuck...)” he groaned.  

As your hand moved, you let your eyes wonder over his body, half exposed to you now. The physique you had dreamed of wasn’t far off, except he had a little more muscle definition than your imagination had given him credit for, particularly in the two lines that framed his abdomen, leading down to where your hand worked him over. But what caught your eye most of all, was the strange tattoo that sat over his heart, hidden by a thin layer of grey-speckled chest hair.  

Three 6’s, in a spiral, marked into his chest for eternity. Your free hand traced the black lines, fingertips grazing over it making him shiver at your touch. You didn’t ask about it, there was no need. He had kept it covered, hidden from knowledge of anyone else until right now – you were the only person he ever wanted to be this vulnerable to. Someday though, you might ask him about that...  

Copia moved to remove his other glove, letting it drop to the floor beside him with the rest of his garments. His red pants still clung to his thighs, and he struggled to draw his eyes away from where your hand stroked his cum-covered cock lazily.  

With one long, drawn out stroke back up his length, you lifted your hand – smeared in his mess – and pressed two of your fingers to your tongue, sucking the mess from them as you held his eye contact. His expression darkened, baring his teeth to you like an animal as he smirked, watching you lick and suck every last bit of his essence from your hand. A fire raged within you, like lava spewing through your veins at the quiet yet guttural groan he unleashed. 

In a flash, he was dragging you to the edge of the desk where you sat, both hands burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. His hips slowly rocked against you, cock dragging through the plentiful juices you’d left for him. You hummed at the feeling of some contact, particularly the feeling of the veins and ridges of his hardness. You needed him inside you, filling you. You couldn’t drag this out anymore; it was like torture. Worse than torture.  

“Please, Cardinal...” you begged. And how could he deny you when you’d asked so nicely?  

“Kiss me, bella,” he huffed, his focus snatched away by the hypnotising sight of his cock sliding through your folds as he teased. It was as if he could only be diverted by your lips, that he couldn’t drag his attention away voluntarily.  

You grabbed him by the jaw with one hand, crushing your lips to his desperately. He growled again, the weeping head of his cock catching on your entrance and slowly, finally, he began to push inside...  

Your jaw went slack, kiss long forgotten as your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a staggered moan into his mouth.  

“ Sono qui, tesoro... (I’m here, sweetheart...)” he assured, holding your hips flush to him with a hand on the small of your back. He struggled to keep himself still, buried to the hilt and desperate to move, but you needed a moment. The feeling was overwhelming, stretched to the brink of pain and pleasure, dangling dangerously there as you got used to him.  

It was a true testament to his self-control and his character that he waited for you – as soon as his length had been buried in your tight, wet warmth he thought he was a goner. He figured that this was it – this was the glorious afterlife he’d been promised, that he prayed to Lucifer for day in, day out. 

Having you pressed against him grounded him as much as he needed. He watched the expression on your face, waiting for any sign of discomfort, of regret. He found none, because there was none to give. His lips hovered above yours, enjoying the warmth of your breath as you moaned for him.  

You were wearing too many clothes still for his liking; he wanted to be unbearably close to you, to feel the warmth of your skin on his, see you in all your glory. Still buried deep inside you, he used one of his hands to unbutton your habit, slowly revealing more flesh to him, kissing down your exposed chest until he could reach no further down.  

He was so gentle with you, so patient. He fought the urges to thrust into you, to take what he so desperately wanted from you. He simply wanted this to be perfect, and the thought had your eyes glazing with an adoration that went beyond a silly little wet dream. 

As your own way of signalling you were okay, you wanted more, you shimmied out of your now open habit, letting it pool around you where you sat, and pulled the straps of your bra down, unclipping it at the back.  

He watched your slow movements, tracing patterns on your skin with his fingertips. “ Più bella di quanto avrei mai potuto immaginare (more beautiful than I ever could have imagined),” he whispered, pressing his lips to your sternum, feeling your heart beating against him. If only he had known he felt this way, that it was more than just lust – if he had admitted that to himself... 

“ Copia ...” you whined, the first time you’d called him by his name all evening... His heart swelled, smiling against the swell of your breast between kisses. “ Per favore, h-ho bisogno d-di te... (Please, I need you...)” you stuttered in broken Italian, piecing together bits you had picked up in your time in the Ministry, but he knew – oh , he knew what you were saying.  

“ Qualsiasi cosa per te, amore mio (anything for you, my love),” he replied, sweetly pressing his lips to yours as he cradled your face in his hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and sunk into him, only for him to begin moving his hips, slowly pulling back from where he had been buried deep within your warmth for a few minutes now at least... 

You mewled into his kiss, letting your tongues dance together so beautifully. It wasn’t until he had slid almost completely away from you that he pushed his way back in, gliding almost effortlessly in the slick you’d created for him. He built his movements over a few slow thrusts, gradually setting a pace that would never bring you to any kind of climax, but enough that the two of you were swirling in pleasure, able to enjoy your first moments anchored together.   

Copia’s lips never left yours, not to allow moans the freedom to escape or to allow his lungs the freedom to breathe. You were totally, utterly enamoured with each other.  

With every roll of his hips, you edged closer and closer to a point of begging for more, begging for a means to an end. He was struggling to keep himself composed, too scared to frighten you off if he unleashed what had built inside him for the last four weeks.  

“Copia, m-more... please...” you begged, finally separating the two of you to hazily look in his beautifully distinct eyes, show him the desperation in your own.  

“Amore, if I let go, I’m not sure I can control myself...” he warned, still forcing himself to stay at the pace he’d set.  

“Then lose yourself, Cardinal... Take me,” you offered yourself to him, trusting completely that he would never do anything you didn’t desperately want yourself.  

With no further encouragement needed, and a whisper of “ Cazzo, Sathanas perdonami ... (fuck, Sathanas forgive me...) ” he picked up his pace, effortlessly sliding into you over and over until the tops of his thighs were smacking into the underside of yours. The sounds ricocheted off the stone walls around you, a sinful mix of whines, pants, grunts and skin slapping on skin swirling in the air around you.  

The hands laying loose around his shoulders slid into his hair, pulling tight to press his forehead to yours. The desk beneath you groaned and creaked under the force, scraping along the floors with each hit. Your Cardinal’s cock filled you so deliciously, his hips angled to hit the back of your cervix and the top of your pussy where that tantalising sweet spot lay.  

“I wanted you for so long, amore mio...” he confessed, “so completely, like un patetico bastardo (a pathetic bastard).” He grit his teeth together, grunting like an animal as he fucked into you. He fought the urge to push you back down against the desk and lift your thighs up, spreading you open as much as possible for him, wanting to savour the closeness, the way he could feel your breath beading in condensation on his neck.  

“S-six months...” It was your turn to confess. “I’d b-been dreaming of... you... for six months...” you cried out as he slammed into you harder, fuelled by your admission.  

“ Bella , you’ll be the end of me, eh?” he chuckled between pants of breathlessness. “ Adesso sono tutto tuo (now I’m all yours...)”   

The coil in your abdomen wound impossibly tighter, threatening to fracture at any moment with the way he rolled his hips up into you, filling you deliciously with each pistoning motion. You felt the ripples from each violent thrust over and over against your clit where his body met yours, and the way his nails dug into your flesh, no doubt leaving bruises with deep crescent shapes imprinted in your skin.  

“C-can’t... hold...” you could barely string a sentence together in your current state, “ fuck...”   

“Cum for me, amore. Cum for your Cardinal, eh?” he roared. And well, you couldn’t stop yourself if you wanted to.  

Fire spread from your core through every nerve ending, spanning your entire body and you squealed and writhed against him. He never faltered, not missing a single beat as you shook and spilled around his cock. The way your walls fluttered around him, squeezed him impossibly tighter made every thrust a struggle, but he fought it – he couldn’t let you down now.  

He tensed his body, staving off another orgasm as long as he possibly could. He wanted you to revel in yours, wanted to watch you come undone on his cock like he’d dreamed of so many times. A litany of profanities and mumblings of his name spilled in incoherent babble as your limbs turned to jelly, barely clinging onto him to stay upright. If you were to fall back or forward, you were to choose forward, slumping against his sweaty chest, your head sitting where his neck met his shoulder.  

In your tired and overstimulated state, all you could do for him was mouth at the skin there, leaving sloppy kisses while your pussy continued to pulse around him until eventually, he gripped your chin tightly to lift your head and crash his lips to yours. He growled into your mouth, hips stuttering and slowing – he had cum inside you, needing to taste you again as he did so.  

With his final few thrusts, his spend leaked from around his cock, mixing with your own climax. He punctuated each thrust with a hum of satisfaction, until he couldn’t take the movement anymore, his cock too sensitive to continue. Still, he didn’t remove himself. Not yet...  

Somehow you both slumped together, keeping each other upright with your body weight alone. Your chests rose and fell together, trying to regulate your breathing to have an opportunity to speak at all. But honestly? The pair of you were happy in your blissful silence together for a moment. 

After a few minutes, it was you who spoke first. 

“I thought you would hate me...” you sighed against his shoulder. Copia’s brows furrowed together, and he stood himself up removing his softening length from you, holding you by your shoulders to get a good look at you.  

“Why would you ever think that, amore mio?” he asked, genuinely confused.  

“I thought I had overstepped, that night in the confessional. I thought you were ashamed, disgusted...” you drooped your head in sadness at the memory of him excusing you so abruptly that evening.  

“No... not with you, never you , tesoro,” he assured. “At myself, sì? I assumed you would despise how I took advant-” 

“Cardinal no, you didn’t... Sathanas, we’re both really stupid, aren’t we?” you chuckled, shaking your head at your antics.    “Idioti innamorati (idiots in love),” he laughed, until he realised what he’d actually just said – and then the colour drained from his face, his eyes blowing out wide in horror.  

You smiled softly, taking his hands from your shoulders and pulling him to take a step closer to you.     “Idioti innamorati,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the end of his nose, still greyed from the smudging of his paints. Copia smiled sheepishly, a warmth spreading in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this before, much less ever had someone reciprocate his feelings. He felt strangely at peace, more so than he ever had.  

“Tesoro, promise me something, eh?” he asked. You nodded, willing him to continue. “Never hide from me again, okay? I damn near lost my mind.”  

You laughed at your idiocy. “I promise, Cardinal.” You leaned forward to press your lips against his, sweetly capturing the moment in a blissful kiss.  

When you pulled apart, he wordlessly helped to gather the garments that had been carelessly removed and dressed you again. You exchanged jokes about the messes you both were, how vile it felt to put your clothes back on with the feeling of your spend seeping from you and his still damp in his underwear... How truly ridiculous you both were.  

“Come, bella. I have a rather large shower cubicle I think we can both put to good use,” he flirted, pulling you to him by your waist now you were both fully dressed. You agreed, taking him by the hand and wondering through the corridors together back to the clergy suites.  

“Besides, I have something of yours I feel I must give back...” Copia laughed at himself, somehow no longer afraid to admit what he had been up to in your absence when he knew now just how depraved your own mind could be.  

Your mind ticked over at what on earth he could possibly mean, until it dawned on you... You had lost your fucking glove.  

“ You pervert!” you accused, smacking his chest playfully as you walked. “Maybe I don’t want it back, Lucifer knows what you’ve done with that thing...” The two of you giggled and flirted your way back, uncaring and unaware of any prying ears that may hear voices late into the night.  

And there were indeed prying ears, albeit accidentally, that perked up at the sound of voices outside his chambers... 

Terzo sat on his couch with a glass of vintage red in his hand, attempting to read a book to take his mind off the sinful noises he’d heard from his fratello earlier that evening. When he recognised the noises, he groaned to himself.  

‘Must they parade around to remind me of that?’ he thought to himself, rolling his eyes and standing to look through the peephole of his door. He saw the two of you waltzing through the dimly lit corridor, hand in hand like teenagers. The dopey look on his brother’s face was, to him, a wonderful sight; so hopelessly enamoured with you as you giggled and laughed together into the night.   

He had always hoped Copia would find someone like you – perhaps that’s why you were the one sister he never tried to bed, the one he felt was off limits to him. Maybe he had always known... but he was glad to see his fratellino acting like himself in your presence. Goofy, dopey Copia. Perhaps now, he could stop looking for approval from those he looked up to and looked down on him, and focus his efforts on simply being himself. After all, he had now found someone who liked him for who he was, not who he hoped to be .  

“Idioti innamorati,” he muttered to himself, chuckling at his win.  

Sì, his fratellino could be himself now – however pathetic he may be...   FIN

A/N: I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing this. This may be my first Ghost fic, but it will NOT be my last - so if you'd like to stick around for more, I'd be incredibly grateful. Send me some head canon requests or some drabble prompts - I'm MORE THAN HAPPY to do those for you. Endless love, Bee 🖤 TAG LIST: @melvilless @copiasprincipessa @siouxbauhaus @edensbuttercups @daughter0fcain @xnothingpersonalx @assassinprocrastinator @funfetti-furby @kadedoesthings @sunbleached-ghoul @gravehags @gbatesx @solluna00 @mae-mei-m @bolliancat @ghulehsin @socksandcr0cs @girlwithissuesworld @fallen-angelito @maccery @wjyndigo @thew0man @a-fools-circus @luxavier @saintedcooper @whatawonderfulexistence--blog @calamity-queen @eternaltiare @moongoore @wagooo @dolceterzo @emeritusing @letstalkstories @sacred-coffin @rainstorms-library @ryos-cruddy-side-blog @fruitmanstyles @relentlessmoon @cardinal-copingmechanism @werich @strawberriiblossoms @evepeve @portaltothevoid @casualghostfan @copias-juicebox @sl1psth3magg0t @enchantedbunny @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 3]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: I've been at home with not much to do today, so I decided to add the third chapter for you all before the weekend ends. Once again, thank you all for the kind words and taking the time to read this story. I've also decided to start a tag list, after being asked for it, so if you'd like to be included in that, please just let me know! x

Taglist: @khadeeeeej

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Series Masterlist

The warm, morning sun peeked through the opening of the drawn curtains in your hotel bedroom, covering everything in a glowing light. Your mind slowly awoke, piecing together where you were, and what happened last night. You smiled at the thought, and reached out for your fiancé to hold him. But the side of the bed that was supposed to be his was cold and empty, making you open your eyes and furrow your brows. 

You got up slowly, walked out into the living room portion of your suite, and your eyes widened at the bottles of alcohol lining the coffee table. Jimin was there, passed out on the sofa, in a way you haven’t seen in a very long time. It made your chest ache for him, knowing he was slipping back into himself. 

“Honey?” You called out to no response. You walked over and kneeled down beside him, brushing his soft, blonde locks from his beautiful face. “Jimin…” 

He murmured something under his breath but refused to open his eyes, and moments later, he was back asleep as his body clearly tried to fight off the elevated alcohol levels in his system. You felt your eyes begin to tear up at the man in front of you, confused as to what could’ve sent him spiraling backwards. 

“You promised me you wouldn’t do this again, baby.” You whispered through spilling tears, knowing from experience that it was useless. He can’t hear you in his state. “You fucking promised me, Jimin… I-I can’t be around you right now, my love, I’m so sorry.” 

With that, you stormed into the bedroom and slid into a quick pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from your suitcase, grabbing your designer bag and phone. You began heading towards the door, but paused, looking back to the man you loved so, incredibly deeply. Not knowing what else to do to, you made your decision to look away from the heartbreaking disaster in front of you. You headed out the door, down the hall, and slipped quickly into the elevator to take you out of the building. 

The streets were busy, despite it being so early on a weekend morning. You loved the bustle of the city, as it offered a pleasant distraction. Watching people as you passed each other, you could easily slip into their life through your imagination. What job did they work? Were they single, or with someone? What did they like to eat? Did they have children? You could imagine it all, pretending to be somebody else in your mind, if only for a brief time. It was a coping strategy you learned as a girl, when you wanted to escape your own life, and the irony of it was never lost on you. You weren’t foolish, you saw the way people eyed your designer clothing, and you knew they must wonder what your life was like. They would never really knew that you would trade it all in for theirs, if it meant having a life that was just a little less complicated. 

Lost in thought, you had wandered several blocks down from your apartment, just exploring the beautiful neighborhood. You stumbled upon a homey-feeling American diner, with large windows on side, looking somewhat out of place built into the bottom floor of a large, very modern skyscraper. You could see in from where you stood across the street, and watched the staff bring coffee and delicious looking breakfast to each guest. The crosswalk light signaled green, so you began walking towards the restaurant, deciding to grab a bite to eat to clear your head. Maybe I could grab some yummy food for Jimin too, you thought, and talk things over while he sobers up. 

You entered through the front door, and the attached bell rang to alert the staff of a new customer.

“Good morning!” A sweet, red headed waitress with an apron tied around her waist called out in a sing-song voice from behind the counter. “Sit anywhere, I’ll bring you a menu!” 

“Thank you!” You responded, looking around for a place to sit. It seemed as though the place was a packed house, with every booth being taken. 

But there, in the back corner, you spotted a familiar face. Or, what you could catch of his face, as it was buried in his menu, with wide, boyish eyes looking over each option. You were thankful to see him, thinking it an intervention of some sort to keep you from having to be completely alone with your thoughts.

“Excuse me,” You walked over to the waitress who had greeted you. “That man in the corner there is a friend of mine, is he with someone?” 

“No ma’am.” She responded, shaking her head. “He likes to come in often and eat by himself.” 

“I think I’ll sit with him and surprise him, then. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting anything.” You smiled, which she returned. “Thank you.” 

You made your way over to him, with an unwavering grin on your face. When you arrived by his table, he still hadn’t looked up, lost on the seemingly endless food options on the menu. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken? This place is so busy, I was wondering if I could join you?” 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened at the sound of that voice. The voice he would know anywhere, pleasant and gentle. 

“Y/N?” He responded, looking up at you. “What are you doing here? A-And of course, please, sit. Um, hi.” He mentally kicked himself for stuttering. Cool. He said sarcastically to himself. 

“Hi.” You giggled at his surprised and stumbling reaction. “I just decided to leave the hotel for a bit, and I spotted this place from across the street. It’s so popular, it must be delicious.” 

“Mhm, I come here sometimes and it’s always busy.” 

“Yeah? The waitress I talked to said she sees you in here often.” 

“O-oh… Yeah, I guess she probably does.” Jung Kook said shyly. 

You both made small talk over the food, the neighborhood and the local things to do that Jung Kook has discovered in his short time being here. While the conversation itself had little significance, happening over modest diner eggs, toast and coffee, the feeling Jung Kook had was indescribable. He never forgot, even after years of being apart, just how easy it is to have a conversation with you. The way you listen so intently, and keep your attention, as though nothing else in the world mattered. It made him feel so special and seen. Your voice was just as sugary as ever, and your giggles never changed, still able to make his heart race. He wanted to hear that laugh forever, and he wanted to be the man who made it happen. 

“Where’s Mr. Park this morning?” Jung Kook asks, suddenly noticing that you were alone. 

“Oh, Jimin?” You paused, hesitation not going unnoticed by the perceptive man sitting across from you. “He, um… He just wanted to sleep in. Jet lag and all that, y’know?” 

“Oh, right.” Jung Kook nodded, not wanting to dig deeper into your pregnant pause. It isn’t my business, he thought. “He seems like a great guy, by the way. You seem happy.” 

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered, praying tears didn’t come to your eyes. “Jimin’s really amazing, he always has been. But um, what about you, Jung Kook? Are you seeing someone?” 

“No.” Jung Kook chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “No, I uh… I broke off an engagement back in Korea before moving to the city.” 

“You were engaged?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly. “I’m so sorry to hear that it didn’t work out.” 

Jung Kook paused, thinking back to the woman whose heart he broke, as he looked at the woman who he’s always truly loved. You’re the reason I couldn’t love her. He said internally, gazing at your face. 

“It’s ok. I just think she wasn’t the one for me.” 

“Yeah? It sounds like you believe that everyone has someone perfect out there, just for them.” You said with a smile, and Jung Kook looked at your face, adoring the way the morning sun attached itself to your skin, making you glow. “I think so, too.” 

“I’ve always believed that. Everyone deserves to find their happiness.” Jung Kook said, his tone shifting in a way you couldn’t quite place, but his chocolate brown eyes were delicate as he looked at you. He swallowed, his tone heavy yet genuine when he added, “I’m glad you and Jimin found each other.” 

Your lips parted, attempting to find words that weren’t there. So you just nodded and offered a polite smile. The silence was thankfully cut short by the waitress, who brought your check. You went to reach for your wallet, but Jung Kook pulled his card out first and laid it onto the table. 

“Please, let me.” He said, his voice warm. “We’ll call it a thank you, for surprising me. I’m glad you did.” 

“Ok.” You grinned, unsure as to why your cheeks were heating up at his compliment. 

While you and Jung Kook were lost in your breakfast and conversation, Jimin had woken up to an empty hotel room. His head ached, but no worse than his chest did when he realized your absence. He had wanted to crawl into bed with you, hold you tight, and apologize for what he had done in the best way he knew how; cover your body with love, and spend the morning buried between your thighs as he pleasured you with kisses and soft, pressured licks.  But when the bed was empty, the panic set in. 

Quick thinking led him to go to his phone, and find your location, as you always shared your location with each other. He spotted your little dot on his phone at a diner, just a few blocks away, and Jimin felt a bit of comfort wash over him. She was just hungry. He thought, taking a deep breath. Let’s meet her there, she’ll be surprised. 

But what Jimin had not expected, was to see him there. The puppy-eyed lawyer sat across from you, and Jimin could tell even from across the street than the man held on to every word you said. Jimin knew that look well, because it’s how he looks at you, too. Jimin grits his teeth, and sends a quick text message to his main lawyer, Kim Namjoon. 

9:11 a.m: Something needs to be done about the new rookie on your team, because spending time alone with my fiancé is wildly inappropriate. See to it that this doesn’t happen again, or I will be finding new representation.  

9:12 a.m: *image attached* 

Jimin takes one last look at the scene in front of him, and goes back to the hotel room. He orders three more bottles, and passes out once again. 

——————————————————————————————————

On Monday morning, Jung Kook was feeling light. He entered his law firm building as he does every day; a freshly pressed black suit on, his dark hair neatly styled, and a cup of coffee in his hand. But this morning, he felt a bit happier, attributing it to a simple breakfast shared with you the weekend prior. He wished he could have breakfast with you every morning, but buried that thought, not daring to spoil his mood with fantasies. 

He sat down at his office desk, and began looking through his weekly calendar and emails. This week was the final week or preparation before the Park Jimin case truly begins, and Jung Kook was fully ready to explain to his mentor why he had told him last minute he needed to recuse himself. It would be the right, responsible thing to do, and it would give him space from you. As much as he wished he didn’t need it, he felt that he needed to move on. You found your happiness. It’s time to let you go. 

Namjoon entered Jung Kook’s office, and closed the door behind him. Jung Kook looked up at his face, which usually held a gentle, welcoming smile. This morning, however, Namjoon was clenching his jaw like a father who was trying not to explode on his son. 

“Jung Kook.” Namjoon said, his voice scarily calm. “I want… No, I need you to be honest with me. What is going on with you and Mr. Park’s fiancé?” 

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to.” Jung Kook answered professionally, causing Namjoon to roll his eyes. 

“For fuck’s sake, kid, drop the act.” Namjoon deep voice was almost a growl. “I’m going to lose out on a top client because you can’t keep your nose where it belongs.” 

“What-” Jung Kook was stopped by Namjoon throwing his phone down on his desk, a picture illuminating the screen. Jung Kook squinted at it, to see a photo of himself and you at the diner. 

“How did you get this photo?” Jung Kook asked, his heart sinking. 

“Mr. Park saw you. He’s furious.” Namjoon explained, pacing back and forth. “He called it ‘wildly inappropriate’, and threatened to find new representation if it happens again.” 

“Mr. Kim, I’m so sorry.” Jung Kook panicked. “Please understand, it’s a misunderstanding. Nothing happened, we was just-”

The office door knob turned, and a hush fell over the room. Jimin and yourself stood there at the door, hand in hand. Namjoon and Jimin locked eyes, and Namjoon could see that the client looked worse than he did just a few days prior. Dark, prominent circles were under his eyes, and his hair was slightly messier than before. Jung Kook noticed none of that, however, and stared directly at you. 

You were wearing dark sunglasses, with no thought to take them off despite being indoors. Your hair was seemingly brushed quickly, notably and uncharacteristically  not put together well. Your loose fitting clothes seemed carelessly thrown on, not styled perfectly in your usual fashion. You were quiet, head down, tightly holding Jimin’s hand and appeared to make yourself smaller, like you wanted to vanish into thin air. Jung Kook wanted so desperately to bring you in and hold you, shield you from whatever it was that made you look so tired, in such a short amount of time. 

“Mr. Park.” Namjoon greeted. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” Jimin responded, his throat sounding hoarse. “I came to fill out any paperwork, and tie up loose ends before we meet again next week.” 

“Of course, I was just talking with Mr. Jeon. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Mr. Jeon,” Jimin called out, his voice weak. “Mr. Kim informed me you were recusing yourself from my legal team for this case. I just wanted to thank you, for the work you’ve done.” 

“Y-You’re welcome, Mr. Park.” Jung Kook said, confused with the kind words. This wasn’t the furious tone that Namjoon had described. 

“My love,” Jimin turned to you, his voice extra soft and delicate. “Will you go with Mr. Kim to his office, please? I’ll be there soon, I just wanted to speak to Mr. Jeon privately about the case before he leaves us. I had some questions.” 

“Ok.” You said, your voice almost a whisper. Jimin squeezes your hand and kisses the top of your head before turning to Namjoon, who nods in understanding. 

“Right this way, Ms. Y/L/N.” Namjoon says gently, leading you out of the office. 

When you are out of sight, Jimin turns to you. The fury Namjoon spoke about is now prominent in his eyes, leading Jung Kook to realize that your presence is the thin defense that keeps his anger at bay. 

“Jeon Jung Kook.” Jimin spat. “I don’t know where you get off, eyeing up my fiancé in some cheap diner, but if I ever catch you sniffing around her again, I’ll ruin you. Do you understand me?” 

“Mr. Park, I never meant to offend you.” Jung Kook said. “Nothing happened. We just bumped into each other.” 

“I don’t want excuses, or explanations from you.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “I’m not a fucking idiot Mr. Jeon, I see the way you look at her. I’m warning you, to watch yourself. You’re from Busan, correct?” 

“Yes, Mr. Park.” 

“Then you know who I am, and who my father is.” Jimin’s voice was dripping in anger. “I will personally see to it that you never represent anyone in our city, or this city again, if you come near her. That’s a promise.” 

Jung Kook felt suffocated under the weight of the air and the weight of Jimin’s glare. Even in his disheveled state, his blonde locks dropping to his face couldn’t cover the anger in his eyes. Jimin stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind him, causing other office workers to startle and look into his room. Jung Kook buried his head in his hands, unsure as to what the right path to move forward is. 

[dumbseee]

prom queen, part two.

part one.

genre: fluff!

warnings: bad english/grammar :p / idk if it’s really good tbh but i wanted to post the last part because i know some people are waiting for it shsjskks <333

taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @tr-mha-fan <3

_

"what’s taking them so damn long…" bakugo sighed, slouching on the couch, hands in his pockets while he was eyeing the corridor for any signs of the girls of class 1-a. they all decided to get ready together in mina’s room and of course, took the longest time. "just be patient, bro! the wait will be worth it." kirishima winked at his friend while elbowing him in the ribs, making the blond bark at him. "i can’t wait to see them in their beautiful and short dresses." mineta almost drooled over sero, who was sitting next to him, the boy winced and pushed the grape boy away. bakugo’s ears perked up at his words. "i bet momo and y/n will look the best, they’re the sexiest girls of-…" he couldn’t even finish his sentence since bakugo sent him flying away with one blast. "kacchan!" midoriya jumped out of his seat, startled since he was sitting near the two. "he better keep y/n’s name out of his dirty mouth." he mumbled, glaring the spot mineta was sitting on a few seconds ago.

"sorry for keeping you waiting guys!" momo’s voice echoed in the living room, and slowly they all arrived, dressed in beautiful and fancy clothes, hair and makeup done. each girl, who had a partner, went straight to them, while the ones without one would just go to their friends. "you look so cool jiro!" kaminari basically had stars in his eyes while he was looking at jiro, who couldn’t stop blushing. "wow ochaco! you look splendid in that dress! it’s the one we picked out?" midoriya was smiling widely at his friend, the brunette stuttered an answer but nodded furiously. "you look really nice, momo." todoroki smiled at momo, she nodded and played with her hair. "same goes to you, todoroki."

you smiled, seeing all your friends being happy and ready to have fun. you felt a small tap on your shoulder, when you turned around and saw bakugo standing in front of you, a hand hiding in his back and a faint pink color decorating his cheeks, you smiled widely at him. "bakugo! you look good in that suit." you eyed him from head to toe and the blonde thought he was going to explode on the spot. he was burning up inside and he couldn’t stop from blushing at your compliment, he cleared his throat and shoved a freshly brought bouquet of red roses. he couldn’t look at you, so he looked at the ground. "i knew the dress would look good on you, but you exceeded my expectations." he finally locked eyes with you and your smiled slowly faded, bakugo was complimenting you, he brought you flowers and he brought you the dress you were wearing right now.

it was the night when he told you go to to prom with him, you had returned to your dorm only to find a huge box sitting on your bed. a small note was left on top of it and said, "mina told me you were still looking for a dress. i hope you’ll like it, pretty girl." was this a dream? bakugo katsuki, your longtime crush was really being this sweet to you? you fell asleep that night, with a huge smile on your face.

"thanks again, bakugo. this is literally my dream dress." you smiled, turning around, making the dress fly around your waist. bakugo watched you with a small smile on his lips. "i want you to call me katsuki." he offered you his arm for you to grab and you two left the dorms alongside the others to join the rest of the students, in the ballroom. your classmates, watching in awe how the two most oblivious person they know, finally getting together.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXXVIII. “for love”

parts: previous / next

plot: Bruce Wayne goes to therapy [NOT CLICKBAIT]

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, panic attack, vomit, blood, grief/trauma, yearning

words: 9.7k

a/n: more miscommunication, more of reader getting themselves into situations 💀 as far as I’m concerned, Bruce Wayne’s love language is ‘worry’. as always, i adore hearing allll of your comments!! please tell me everything lovelies, i adore interacting with you all <3

You’d probably bored him with your photos and reminiscing. Maybe he didn’t even have to go anywhere.

You’d hoped you’d been able to distract Bruce enough, even if he was just humoring you. In addition to the articles about the murderous stalker, you’d noted the bruises on his knuckles. After last Saturday when you’d learned he’d gone back to Batman, you’d been worried sick; worry tinged with anger at his immovable desire to get back into the muck, at his inability to let himself relax. You hoped you’d given him a sliver of that, a moment of reprieve so his system didn’t overload. It wasn’t realistic that his meds had fully set in yet. As Dr. Crane so diligently reminded you over the weekend, this time was fragile.

In a self-serving way that made your stomach hurt, in a way you didn’t want to fully admit to yourself and play off as a joke, the shock of the serial killer had sideswept your anxiety at having to see him again post-dream. The only time it had entered your brain again was when he’d made the comment about housing, blurting out so eloquently I thought I’d dreamt that. You’d wanted to sink into the floor, certain that your dream was plastered across your forehead.

At least he smiled some at the end of the night–he wouldn’t have sought you out at the rally’s end if he hadn’t wanted to talk to you, right? Or was this yet another thing fueled by his guilt? So soon off the heels of the attempt, and everything with Miller… yeah, he didn’t want to talk to you. Only felt like he needed to.

You waited at a separate intersection now, in an area of town you had never been to before. So holed up to downtown while being in classes, you hadn’t ventured much besides the places Mar dragged you every blue moon. Crown Point was separate from downtown, almost intentionally so—in your research for March’s rally, you’d learned that it was a neighborhood infamous for its poverty and crime. Most of the articles online spoke only about the latter, giving no credence to the reality of simply needing to get by. It had also been the neighborhood most impacted by the historic flood of 2022, never quite being resuscitated. You’d wanted to start hearing what the city thought of this campaign, and what better voices to highlight coming off the heels of Bruce’s first interview than the most abandoned?

Marginalized and disenfranchised didn’t even begin to cover it. It was like the city at large had tried to swallow up Crown Point—or better yet, tried to drown it in the depths of the river, desperately stomping out any signs of life. Cars were toppled over from accidents no one had bothered to attend to, or clean up from. Blood tinged all layers of the street, no street cleaners bothering to come by. Every apartment looked decimated; chunks of yellowed, dry grass sprung wild in cracks of concrete, surviving off blood, crude oil, and spite. Trash more than littered the streets, it became them; when you visited again, if you even saw a single soul, you’d need to wear boots. Some of the garbage was up to your knees.

You thought back to a group project in high school with Gabbi. She’d wanted to focus on the benefits of recycling, starting a campaign to expand the trash removal options at the school. She’d pulled up pictures of places like this, turning her nose up to the class as they presented. “We don’t want our city to turn into this, do we?” Even then, having never stepped foot outside your little town, you’d thought she was being callous and cruel.

The first sign of life presented itself as a rustle in some bushes. You cleared your throat of its gumminess on approach, suddenly feeling very much like an intruder. Street interviews were commonplace, it wasn’t supposed to be weird, but this side of town almost felt feral; like it’d been left alone for so long the buildings might bite back. What could I give them in return? Dr. Vry had always made it clear you weren’t supposed to give gifts in journalism; it was biased, and even if well-intentioned, demerited your work. Maybe it would be enough for you to see them, to help give their voice a boost. To know that someone was looking out for them.

Upon closer inspection, these bushes proved the entrance to a houseless camp. The residents had become very savvy, and you kept yourself tight to where you’d come in case they wanted you to leave. You had a penchant for walking unwanted into people’s homes, it seemed; but the tentative response was short-lived. A child emerged from a tent a few feet in front of you, and waved, running toward the back of the haphazardly-kempt wire fence lining the area. It was massive; hundreds of people could live here, easily. You noticed a couple sitting together eating some shelf-stable food on a nearby bench. Another kid playing with a stray cat in the far corner. Tents and tarps were plentiful, with the odd bike and mattress parked around.

“If you’re a cop, we don’t want you.” A tall woman sitting under a tarp gestured to you. “Lot of you have tried, but we won’t go.”

You shook your head. “I’m not, I uh, I’m a journalist with the Gazette. Wanted to know what the people of Crown Point thought about the upcoming election.”

A chorus of laughs erupted, many voices from places you couldn’t place. Some echoey, some dampened, some sounding like they were standing right beside you. The same woman shrugged, tossing her pillow to the side of her to lay back on. “The election doesn’t matter. Still leaving us to die.”

You went with her concern, probing it, validating it. “That’s why I’m here. I want to help your concerns be heard.”

“What’s the point of being heard if we’re gonna freeze anyway?” The man sitting on the bench chimed in, shaking his head with a tight, scrunched face. They were right; why would they want to speak if they were hungry, exhausted, and at risk of freezing to the cold, hard ground this winter? Your heart broke thinking of how many loved ones they’d already had to mourn.

The zing of it propelled the words out before you’d fully thought them through. “I could help all of you get housed, tonight.”

The man on the bench glared at you, the woman next to him looking up from her lap. The woman underneath the tarp that had spoken slowly sat up, eyebrow raising. “Is this a trick? Get us to leave so you can sweep the joint?”

Damn. What is Bruce gonna think about this? “No. I have… connections. At least for the time being. Hotels, motels, but eventually to something long-term.” What, there were a few hundred people here? Maximum? Some of them had to be families, couples. You swallowed a lump in your throat at the prospect of overpromising and underdelivering. You knew there were enough empty apartments, but not about hotels…

Rightfully so, they only became more suspicious, with more people peeking out from their tents to see who the hell was saying such things. “I worked with Bruce Wayne recently.” What to say?! “He talked about the housing crisis, he wants to help.”

“This isn’t more of that Renewal bullshit, right?”

“Wayne kid getting out now?”

“Why would he want to help us? Planning to run?”

They’d been hurt before. Led astray. They were just being protective. “I think he wants to follow his parents. I know they were philanthropic.”

“Can’t be too much, or he wouldn’t have his billions.”

You couldn’t believe you were standing here vouching for Bruce fucking Wayne, the man that just a few months ago scowled at you in his basement while essentially moralizing their existence. It dawned on you that you were promising them his money, and guilt washed through you yet again. “I’ll get in contact with his management. If that’s something you’d all want.”

The few people who were looking at you looked around at each other, and a pause hung longer than you thought it would. You stifled a sigh of relief at giving them a choice–you didn’t want to come in like some savior if it wasn’t what they wanted right now. You stifled another when they all nodded, and you disappeared back into the bushes after saying you’d only be a minute.

Calling him was hard. You stared at his contact in your phone like it was a mirage, and would leap from the screen and disappear any moment. Only once you heard a particularly strained meow from one of the camp’s cats did you press the button, all but slamming the phone to your ear. Ring one, ring two, ring three, ring four… you bit your cheek, already sore from biting it so much the night before. He isn’t gonna answer. He wants nothing to do with me. Rightfully so.

“Y/N?”

You loathed the way your body jumped when he said your name, a phenomenon you were becoming aware of ever since that night at your apartment. The request tumbled out of you, with both too much and not enough context; sudden, intrusive, and trapping. You were beginning to hate yourself, and the lengthy silence between your ask and his response had you jumping in place, holding tight, constricted air heavy in your chest. Fuck. I’ll have to tell everyone I was lying, that I didn’t have anything lined up. That you’d put your foot in your mouth, and felt entitled to his money. Maybe, in your emotional anguish, you’d even confess to them that you’d lied. That you’d lied to a big, important man about a big, important thing. All weekend you’d ruminated on his reputation, fully internalizing it for the first time.

“Be there soon.” His voice was flat, distant, and he abruptly hung up.

Not an okay, sure, or even a that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, stay away from me from him. Just another obligation. Another thing he had to swallow with you; another way you made yourself a menace, another way he couldn’t escape you.

He arrived the same way, eyes cast down as he slammed the door shut. His hair wasn’t done, but the rest of him was—donning a light brown sweater against tapered black pants rather than his baggy black-on-black, tattered tee look. As much as you wanted to mirror his avoidance, you had to bite the bullet, maintaining your eyes to his face and breaking the silence. “Thank you, I’m, I know this is unexpected,”

His eyes flicked up to yours and he flinched, his face scrunching together as he faced the concrete again. You felt queasy. His voice was low and mumbled. You could barely hear him, though the city din was much lower out here. “—fine.” He shrugged, his shoulders tightening. Your gut cinched as you led him to the camp, each step drawing the nausea more to the surface. After the rollercoaster of the past week, it’d been too easy to forget the fragile line you walked with him.

By the time you both stood at the entrance, watching everyone’s eyes widen at Bruce’s presence, you were almost positive you’d crumble to the ground. By some lucky break, he decided to speak first. He sounded nothing like he had when he’d been with you seconds earlier.

“I know the chill is coming in soon, and we want to help you get housed. For the first few nights you’ll be staying in a hotel or motel in the city. Beyond that, my team will get you set up in an apartment long-term. Fully paid.” Some people asked him why he was doing this, but others were already taking down their tents, shoving everything into their arms and into stray plastic bags. He answered with: “Money has no use sitting in a cell while people can use it.”

You tried not to linger on the we of it all, but it was hard. He didn’t look at you as you both helped residents pack up their things, staying to opposite sides of the encampment. After you did a headcount, you realized there were only about a hundred-fifty people living here. A handful of them were children, a few elders, but most middle-aged, and single. When people would turn to finish grabbing their belongings, you’d stare at Bruce’s back, or his side-profile, or his face if he was facing you. He never so much as glanced your direction, even when he was paused, waiting.

Once everyone was packed, you took out your phone to scour hotel sites, presenting the second time he’d acknowledged your existence in the two hours you’d been there. His voice was quiet still, this time with more discernible reasons as to why, though he kept his interactions short, clipped, impersonal. “My butler’s handling it. Marriot’s coming off a conference, everyone can go there.” He mumbled something as he walked past about Alfred sending cars for everyone, directing you to stay back for the time being. He walked to the group toward the front and followed them out, saying something else you could hardly hear, but sounded like leadership.

Nearly in tears by how coolly he was behaving, you’d threatened to crumble until a small boy walked up to you holding a tiny kitten. The kitten shivered, their orange fur standing up in the wind tunnel the fencing and bushes created. They had open scabs around their back, and on the pads of their paws. “Mommy says he needs a doctor.”

Crouching down to meet his eye level, you reached out to gently pet the cat’s head. You could feel how small and weak they were. “Is this your kitty?”

He nodded. “His name is Bouncer.” He said it pointedly, like people had been calling Bouncer ‘cat’ against his wishes. His face was pouty, frustrated. He held the cat close to him, like you were going to take him away. “Can he come?”

“Yes, he can. I can take him to the doctor too if you’d like.” Dr. Vry’s second paycheck had come in over the weekend, so this task wasn’t something you’d have to ask Bruce’s card information for. Thank god.

“Bouncer.”

“I can take Bouncer to the cat doctor, and bring him back to you. How does that sound?” Your heart squeezed as you thought back to what had likely gotten him that name, the bouncing, leaping, energetic presence of a new kitten, seeing how clenched and tired the cat looked now.

The boy looked over your shoulder and pointed, and you followed his finger to Bruce, stepping back into the encampment. “You and him.” He pointed to the cat, brow furrowed, then back to Bruce again. “Get him.”

He was already motioning at Bruce, and you counted the sound of his footsteps until you felt him beside you. He wasn’t wearing the cologne he always wore at city hall meetings, the universe giving you a millisecond of relief. His voice was gentler when he spoke now, crouching to mimic your posture in front of the kid. “Is that your cat?”

The kid stared at you like you were supposed to introduce them. You didn’t look at him, only at the small, shaky head of the kitten in front of you. “That’s Bouncer. He needs to go to the vet.”

“You guys will.” He shoved the kitten in your arms, and you felt how chilly he was. His body trembled and shook, and you cradled his head as you looked into his face. The kid said something to Bruce about ‘the buddy system’ and ‘illegal’ to not go with someone else, but their conversation faded into the green of the kitten’s eyes. Their eyelids were covered in grime, their nose runny. Poor baby. You caressed their head, their eyes fluttering, and they stretched into a yawn, the tiny claws poking at your arms.

“Landon, there you are.” A woman, presumably his mom, walked up to the child and grabbed his elbow. “The cars are coming.”

“Bouncer! He’s going to the doctor.”

The lady met your eyes, and glanced between you and Bruce. She shook her head and hoisted the bag higher on her back. “No baby, we don’t have the money yet.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bruce intercepted. “I’ll cover it.”

The woman blushed, an exasperated sigh following. She ran her fingers through Landon’s hair. “You’re already doing so much, we can’t possibly,”

He shook his head and stood, but you stayed crouched. You pulled the kitten close to your chest, hoping to warm them off your body heat. “It’s no problem. I’ll have someone bring Bouncer to your room later tonight.”

As they shuffled away, the boy blew a kiss at the cat and waved; you gently grabbed the kitten’s paw and gave the teensiest wave back, careful not to move him much. As they turned out of view, stepping out of the bushes to the cars that supposedly awaited them all, you caught Bruce staring at you, blank-faced. He held the eye contact only a second, but it felt like a lifetime after being wholeheartedly avoided. You wished he would speak, you wanted to know what he was thinking so badly.

Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and strode forward, mumbling again. “Get in the backseat with it.”

You didn’t like his tone, but you didn’t feel in any position to complain; you’d probably cost him upwards of fifty thousand dollars today, not counting whatever the vet bill would be, food costs, and the long-term investment of housing everyone. You hadn’t consulted with him, of course he was angry. Of course he was being short with you. You didn’t care much about the money aspect, especially not as you walked past the crowds of people buzzing with anticipation to finally get a warm shower and soft bed, but when you paired it with your previous behavior, it didn’t feel too stellar. Seemed that as quick as the smoke cleared from a past fuckup, you were slamming another between the two of you.

Slipping into the backseat was easier than you thought; the kitten was far from rambunctious, tired and tiny, so you set them in the seat next to you and slid in, scooping them up as quickly as they’d been set down. As you gently pet their head, down their back, and wiggled their toes, you could’ve sworn you felt the beginnings of a purr. You looked out the tinted windows at the people climbing into Ubers and Lyfts, and rolled down the window to wave again at Landon before he climbed in the back of the rideshare.

Bruce slipped into the driver’s side and turned the car on as one pulled up beside you. Alfred was messing with his seatbelt before stepping out, seemingly orchestrating the rides. He said something to the group and those who had just hopped inside the cars, but Bruce sped off before you could hear it. Every movement of his felt impatient, stilted, forced. You remained silent the rest of the drive, the mood soured, millenniums away from the night before. You shifted your focus to the animal in your arms, which was automatic; they’d begun to let out pitiful meows, opening their eyes as much as they could.

You pulled into the parking lot of a clinic you’d never seen before, a 24 hour emergency vet. Bruce turned to take the cat, but Bouncer had clawed his way into your shirt, clinging on for dear life. You cooed at him, rubbing behind his ears, and stepped out without thinking, only realizing once both feet were on the ground to look for paparazzi. The beaming of the sun, a rarity in the inner city, caused a momentary panic, and you scurried into the clinic as fast as you knew you could protect the terrified pet in your arms. After pretending you’d found a stray cat and wanted to rescue them, you handed him to a tech, giving your card information and phone number to the man at the front desk. They told you for security reasons they’d need you to wait in your car, but they estimated it wouldn’t be longer than an hour. Apparently it was usually much busier, and the wait averaged twelve hours. Shit.

Walking out to the car brought an anxiety you hadn’t felt toward him since the first night at Wayne Tower. He didn’t look up when you walked past his window, nor when you slid into the backseat. In fact, he didn’t say a word for multiple minutes after, seemingly staring down at his feet, or the steering wheel. Is he okay?

“How long did they say it would be?” Still mumbling. Still with no further acknowledgment outside the bare minimum.

“About an hour.”

The silence continued for a cluster of minutes before you forced an apology through your mounting nerves. “I’m sorry. I know I should have asked you before. They asked what good was it to have their voice heard if they were gonna freeze to death anyway, and—”

“It’s fine.” But it didn’t sound fine, it sounded like he had an armory of sharp words to stab into you; an unspoken tension so tightly wound you had a feeling you couldn’t even ask about it without things escalating. Whatever it was, you felt it; a thick, dense cord jammed between and through you.

“It’s not right of me—”

“It’s fine.”

This felt eerily similar to how standoffish he’d acted the night after you hugged, but it didn’t make sense. All he’d done was drive you home. His reassurance wasn’t gentle, it was tempered. A kettle barely kept from boiling. Whenever he acted like this, you couldn’t help the storm brewing within you to pull him out of it, make him explain himself.

But you’d done too much. So you sat, twiddling your thumbs, and counted the seconds as they passed until the clinic called back. You put it on speaker so you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself to him.

“Hi Y/N, this is Mountain Valley vet clinic calling. Bouncer has been seen by our staff.” They went on to let you know that he had dermatitis and was extremely dehydrated; they gave him subcutaneous fluid, a wash, and a cone, as well as trimmed his nails. You agreed to purchasing the hypoallergenic kibble they recommended, and walked out a few minutes later with a cardboard carrier holding a tiny, washed kitten in a large cone.

Bruce still didn’t say a word.

Bruce felt like he might die.

You left him in the car with the kitten after insisting on the ride back that you get the creature some supplies. He peeked in once to see if it was breathing, and its bleary eyes stared up at him. He gave the little thing a pet, but that was the most he could do. He felt like he needed a trip to the doctor.

He didn’t want you to come back. He’d been pacing his room before you called, cataloging what he might say to you the next day. He’d been too terrified to sleep, afraid to shut his eyes after the debacle in the shower. He’d tried to come up with an excuse to not see you, but nothing revealed itself, and now he was here. Stuck in this stuffy, cramped car with you. Stuck remembering the tenderness in your body as you held the animal, stuck with the insurmountable, immovable, horrifying thought that there was nothing he could do but grow fonder and fonder of you with each interaction.

He wasn’t mad you’d taken the initiative; he was mad that his body had betrayed him, and annihilated his footing, making the sight of you absolutely unbearable. Seeing you felt like a hot branding iron, like your hand was wrapped around his throat to make him suffer, cutting off oxygen to his limbs until he felt them shrivel and die. He ached to lean toward you, converse, connect; but in equal measure, with equal force, nothing had ever felt more dangerous. Not even cutting the wire and plunging into the blood-filled waters during the flooding, though he knew how illogical it was.

He looked at the cat again. How you held it. How it clung onto you like the world would end if it let go. He couldn’t resist looking at you then. Couldn’t stomp out the part of him that wanted to do the exact same thing. It made him sick.

You slid into the backseat and for a split second he considered folding. Indulging the questions that spun his thoughts all afternoon. Why Crown Point? Why now? What article were you working on? Had anyone heckled you? Had Gavenstein or the other men said anything? Had you recovered yet from your injuries? What questions did you prepare for the rally that weren’t heard? How were you, really? Were you still having nightmares?

“Which room are they in?”

Holy shit, he’d been driving on autopilot, the Marriot sign projecting beams of light through his eyes in the parking lot. This was precisely why he couldn’t ask those questions, why it was imperative he resist the dynamic forming. He was entirely ragged and unnerved.

The click of your seatbelt unbuckling forced him to speak. “I’ll do it.”

“No, I’ll run up there, I was the—”

“You can’t be associated with this.”

“I already am. Look,”

His hand knocked into yours as he grabbed the box’s handle, and he slammed his head back on the headrest with a scowl as he yanked his arm away. His hand was burning where you’d touched, his heart racing…

“Just admit it.”

If he thought his heart was racing then, he had no idea what it was doing now, certain it would tear out of his chest. You couldn’t know about last night, impossible. You couldn’t. “Admit what?” It was easy for his tone to be harsh when he was this thrown. He counted the split of each second between your answer by the pounding of blood in his ears.

“You’re mad at me.”

His brow furrowed, gaze fixed on the top of the steering wheel. You shifted in your seat, the thin plastic handles of the Petco bag deepening the crease under your knuckles. It was oozing off of him. You nearly snapped when he denied it. “I’m not.”

“I know what I did was entitled.”

“Take the cat in.”

“You’re angry. That’s fine,”

He scoffed, something which didn’t help whatever case he was trying to front. “Do you want me to be?” He turned to face you, his face flushed with frustration. His chest was heaving, causing you to press your back flush to the seat in a strange anticipation. Almost like he might grab you if you got too close. Or run away.

You hid your surprise when he spoke again, his voice embittered. “Do you want me to tell you you shouldn’t have done that?” The collar of his sweater snagged your vision, your eyes oscillating there and back again. To his deep blue eyes with their fiery, unblinking focus… “That I don’t want you spending my family’s money? That you should’ve given it more thought?” His lips were fascinating as they wrapped around his words. “What do you want me to say?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking.” The words caught in your throat, coming out breathy. His intensity filled you to the brim with overwhelm, knocking the wind clean out of you. It began to feel obscenely difficult to only focus on his eyes. Something flashed across his face, like apprehension, or worry, and quickly settled. “Don't pretend you’re not upset.”

He glared at you another beat, one that you soaked up more than you cared to admit, before grumbling back into his seat. You couldn’t make out what he was looking at, but he was looking down. He suddenly looked a few years older. Is he okay? “Room 731.”

You reached around, taking great care not to brush his arm, and grabbed Bouncer’s box from the passenger seat. The cabin air was stifling, charged with whatever complaints Bruce was set on denying, but you couldn’t resist a last look at the frail little cat in the big, huge box.

You thought about how Bruce hadn’t held him yet, and, even though he was causing a well of something to toil in you, and his tone brooked no further conversation, you shoved through it. Hopeful it could help him off the edge of whatever he was dealing with. Walter always helped you regulate. “Do you want to hold him before I go in?”

“Why?”

“You haven’t held him yet.” And he had a shitty week.

Like nothing more than obligation, he twisted his body toward the box and reached inside, expression cross and unyielding. The kitten meowed, and Bruce’s face scrunched as he saw the bubble on his back. “What happened?” He held the cat up and looked at it from another angle, his concern mounting.

“That’s the fluid.” The kitten let out a sizable scream as he kicked his paws, scrambling. Bruce held him almost at arm’s length, confused. His serious expression and the wiggling kitten caught between his hands was a sight you burned into memory for when you needed to laugh later. “Bring him closer, he’s just cold.”

He folded his arms mechanically, and at such a snail pace you wondered if the cat might outgrow the cone by the time he reached the plane of his chest. The feeling that welled up in you when the cat snuggled into him had you interrogating your subconscious for an ulterior motive. Something about seeing a stony man holding the world’s most fragile kitten had you feeling woozy. You could’ve sworn you saw the sunrise of a smile glint in his eyes.

“Is that Bruce Wayne?!”

“Duck.”

You made yourself one with the floor of the back seat as he threw the car in reverse, one hand on the kitten, one to the wheel. Being this low to the ground in a vehicle made your head spin, all thought leaving you save making sure you didn’t vomit.

He parked sooner than you anticipated, wasting no time. “I’ll walk the cat back. Give me the bag.” He placed the cat delicately in the box, but your head was pounding. You didn’t like having to do this. Having to lay horizontal every time someone might see you with him, stay ducked behind bushes, across the room at city hall. You knew why. You knew it would destroy any chance of you making it on your own, typecasting you as Bruce Wayne’s mistress the rest of your life. You saw it at the rally the night before. The looks the women gave you. The snickers the men did as you walked past. The way none of the other press would interact with you. You hated how you’d done this to yourself, not thinking of the implications of actually getting the interview, getting it published, and sticking around.

He shut the door, walking off. You reminded yourself, not-so-gently, that you’d be leaving soon. If Bruce was so frustrated by your presence, the least you could do–after Dr. Crane gave you the clear–was leave. Swiftly. No more chance encounters, no more meddling… all would be right with the world. Maybe you wouldn’t even miss him.

Bruce had amassed an even larger aura of annoyance by the time he came back. He didn’t cloak his scowl, or pause to chat; he peeled out of the side street and booked it for The Moore. You sat up slowly, hoping he wouldn’t strike you down with another demand, though you felt like you deserved it. You stared at the back of his hair, dark and messy, covering his ears and half his neck. If you wanted, you could reach out and touch him. Run your hands down his shoulders to his wrists, slip through his palm back into his fingers. You drew a sharp breath, covering the sound of it with another apology, the envelope of the luck you’d pushed nearly bursting at the seams. “It won’t happen again.”

Nothing in the car changed. He didn’t care, and you couldn’t blame him.

You hadn’t lingered when he pulled into the same alleyway, trying your best to slip out of his sportscar like an apparition. The stale air threatened to snuff you out, and for once you relished the mildewed public air as you gulped back to your apartment, heart tumbling down your sleeve. Everyone who walked past was blurry. The key shook in the lock as you pushed inside. It felt horrifying having him pull away, and horrifying that it was over something so avoidable. What if he could’ve came back and watched a show? If only you’d called him before? Instead of crossing boundary after boundary, fuck.

You wished he would’ve yelled at you. Torn you up. But you weren’t worth that. You were only worth brooding; tense silence that would inevitably turn into avoidance, which would mean he’d never talk to you again. No matter how often you told yourself it didn’t matter, god… sitting in his car last night had felt fun. The happy, bouncing adrenaline of hoping he’d find you at the end of the night when he’d waited precisely for your spot in line to join. His presence felt so warm.

You prayed he wouldn’t ignore you at City Hall, but it wasn’t heeded. It was as if you’d stopped existing. Alfred had texted you an update earlier that day about the housing situation, letting you know he’d secured apartments for the last of them through this time next year, probably the most obvious confirmation that Bruce was done interacting with you. He’d ended the text with: We’ll take it from here. You’d crossed a line.

The crossbody bag hanging heavy on your shoulder mocked your spine, though you’d packed light. At the meeting’s end, you kept to the foyer wall as you dug through it, pulling out the plane ticket to make sure it didn’t rip on the hard edges of the recorder and notebook shoved between chargers and sweatpants. Pen…

“Thought you were staying through the election.”

The bag slipped off your shoulder and fell to the floor, masking your gasp. Positive he wasn’t looking at you, you chanced a look up after stooping to grab your bag. His eyes were fixed on yours, relentless. You wondered how any criminals resisted him. “Um,” you swallowed, hard, your mind drifting away. After a few embarrassing breaths that felt weird to do while in direct eye contact, words found you. “I’m visiting for the weekend. Mom stuff.”

The bags under his eyes were pronounced. He sprayed that cologne again. His hair was done, but somehow still in his face. His sweater switched for a black turtleneck. You caught it all in piecemeal, never spending too long in one place. He hadn’t blinked, something which made you feel wholeheartedly exposed. You broke the stare, flustered, pretending to fiddle with the zipper on your bag to escape it, his smoldering—but when you looked up he was gone.

Bruce took his time pulling out his wallet, making small talk with the valet about the weather while he thumbed through hundreds. Depending on how soon you got in the Uber, he’d be rich. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine–he needed to stop there. A thousand dollar tip for parking his car? He didn’t want the guy to get suspicious.

The guy’s face was pale, and he stuttered. “Sir, did you–”

“Feeling generous.” Waiting to see if you were about to get abducted. He nodded and took his keys, taking short, slow strides while he pretended to take in the air, maybe give the paparazzi more glamor shots.

The faintest whisper of your name from across the street pulled his attention to a man driving a blue Toyota Corolla. No dents, no scratches. He wished he could make an ID on the driver, a stocky man with a thick beard and dirty blonde hair. He watched you get in in pieces–first your hand on the back passenger door, then your bag, then your hips, then your head. He realized too late he’d been openly gawking, stowing his hands to hide their shaking. When the Corolla drove off, he jumped into the driver’s seat and sped to the nearest place of isolation, swallowing spoons of bile. Were you safe? His rapid breathing was speeding up his body’s rejection of breakfast. Would you come back in pieces?

The very instant he’d thrown off the cameras, he stumbled out and vomited, one hand stabilizing him to the brick, the other holding his hair behind his ear. It splashed over his shoes and freckled his calves. He gasped between spurts, gag reflex mingling salt pooling by his lips. His forehead dragged on the concrete wall, catching some hairs of his eyebrow. Retching turned to dry heaves, which evolved to wheezes. He couldn’t follow you. He couldn’t drive you. Fuck.

He got dizzy again when he thought of the plane ticket. Hysteria had taken over him, freezing his veins with pure panic. You were killing him. How long it had taken you to answer, leaving him standing there, frigid. You were going to kill him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at it, he couldn’t. He couldn’t talk to you. He wanted to fall into you. Learn more about you. Be around you. It was actually killing him, he should’ve just let you leave. He shouldn’t have talked to you. He’d seen that you’d bought the ticket a week ago on the receipt dangling out of your bag, it wasn’t an emergency, and that should’ve been enough, but he’d wrestled with asking you about what prompted the visit, if your mom was alright, just to hear you talk. Just to hear you talk!

He’d deluded himself into thinking he could ignore it. But the fear that gripped him now, the damn terror, the grating, emulsifying anxiety that liquified his insides at seeing you get into the car. He hadn’t thought it would be that bad. That it was still this bad. Why was it this bad?! He barely knew you! Why did it feel like you were dying? Why couldn’t he breathe?

Logic hadn’t helped quell the worry. Not yesterday, not last night, not the night before, not this morning, not during the meeting, not now. He was being stupid. Stupid, stupid…

He pulled out his phone and fought the urge to throw it. 8:20, you were probably at the airport by now. It wasn’t far, you’d absolutely be there if you hadn’t been kidnapped. Barrel to your skull. He should’ve driven you. Should’ve. Should’ve. Should’ve.

Get there safe?

But he couldn’t press send. He couldn’t wait on a response. He dropped the phone with the earthquake that were his fingers, scraping indents into his nails as he clawed at the ground for it. His chest was tight, his mind going in and out of a red backdrop, the sounds of the cars on the highway searing through his eardums. His throat was closing up. It was closing up, and he wouldn’t be able to breathe, he’d die right here, he’d die.

His finger hovered on the dial below your name.

The next day Bruce found himself sitting in a small waiting area at three in the afternoon. The walls were the same shade of beige, and the same secretary took his name. The seats were the only thing different, a lot softer than he remembered.

Seeing her face again felt disorienting, nearly catapulting him back to the months after the murder. She was older now, her hair filled with shades of gray. Her smile was the same, and her voice unchanged. It was the only thing tethering him to the same room down the stuffy hallway, into a room far smaller than he thought it had been.

“Bruce, welcome back. It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?” Iris was the only name he knew of hers. He hadn’t looked at the directory when he’d called, he’d only left his name, number, and his preference of provider. He struggled not to feel ten years old sitting in front of her after all this time, his body already folding in on itself. His hands warmed themselves squished between his thighs, his shoulders trying their damndest to connect.

He nodded, and glazed over while she went over the consent forms he’d already signed. He had to blink back to the room when she said ‘tell me more about that’.

“I don’t want a lot of sessions. I just need solutions. They need to stop.”

Iris nodded at him, her brows knit just so. Her chair was thick and upholstered, the yellow sitting discordantly with the shade of blue on the walls. “The panic attacks need to stop?”

“Yeah.”

She wrote something on her clipboard, scribbling the only sound in the room. “What usually precipitates the panic, Bruce?”

Per usual, her eyes drilled into him. Like they wouldn’t let him get out of it. “Nothing.”

The silence hung for a few beats, something she did often, but he’d conveniently forgotten. The first few sessions of theirs they’d sat in mutual silence, with the odd prompting question to try to bring him out of it. She threw him a bone this time. “Seems to come out of nowhere?”

He immediately knew why he’d stopped coming. He loathed to sit in his body, to have someone point their finger at all the sticky points. Like she did again, not letting up.

“What’s coming up?”

“People. People cause them.”

“Tell me more.” She crossed her leg and sat back in the seat, anticipating Bruce giving a novel. It made him only want to say less, and he only shrugged in response.

The silence continued for another two minutes, like a game of tug-of-war.

“Is it certain people?”

There was always a sticking point, too. The first question that set him on edge, brought him closer to the jagged edges of his mind he desperately tried to drown. He nodded slowly, not wanting to give anything away, not wanting to sit and stare at each other.

But that was all it was. Silent, apart from the ticking of the clock by the door. He knew why she did this, and why she did it now. She’d explained it one day, letting him know this was his space, and she could only do with it what he gave. She’d been kind enough when she said it, but he’d still felt like he was doing it wrong. Still loathed why he was in there in the first place. He hadn’t wanted to sit in this room while Alfred waited in the lobby, he wanted to eat dinner with his parents.

He forced more words to fill the space, determined to rid his body of the emotional toxin as hurriedly as possible. He tapped his foot impatiently. “So what do I do about it? If I have to keep being around those people?”

“What do you think?”

He grunted, sucking on his teeth to abate a scoff. “Just tell me what to do.”

She nodded, setting aside her clipboard. “Sounds like you really want relief from something excruciating.”

He hated when she used feeling words. Hated when she’d pull out the feelings wheel, try to get descriptive with the toils of his head and stomach. He didn’t realize he was breathing harder, eyes shifting about the room, until she drew attention to it. Of course she did.

“Are you starting to feel it right now?”

His hands gripped the edge of the couch, shoulders tensing. He felt like something was about to spill out of him, bubbling to the surface, but it wasn’t clear, it wasn’t tangible. He focused on the carpet, counting the rings of thread, staving it off. He felt himself begin to sway, and nodded.

Her pointed, slow breathing filled the room, and he begrudgingly matched it until his shoulders dropped. She’d described deep breathing to him twenty years ago as ‘pulling in air’ to your body so it can ‘keep you on the floor’. God, he hadn’t thought about that in over a decade. Once his breathing was under control, she struck again.

“Are you fine with me asking some questions about what it feels like?”

He waited for her to speak, eyeing her cautiously. She caught his imperceptible nod, something that made him more angry than he wanted to divulge. Always under the microscope.

“Let me know if it’s too activating, and we can go right back to breathing.” She pulled up her clipboard again, clicking her pen open. “Does it feel like your throat is closing up, chest tight, like you’re worried you won’t be able to breathe?”

His face grew hot. “Yes.”

“Any images cross your mind, or repeating thoughts?” She wrote something down while he hesitated, squeezing his eyes shut more with each syllable. He felt small. Tiny. Smaller than that kitten.

“That I'm dying.” The color red smeared across his vision, recurrently. When he opened his eyes and refocused, the image unblurred. His face scrunched, nose crinkling. “And… blood.”

Iris nodded, giving him a moment to take another regulating breath. She waited for his shoulders to drop again before pressing on. “I noticed you started trembling. Is there anything else you noticed? Thoughts, feelings, physical sensations?”

He’d been trembling? He looked down at his hands, knuckles white from gripping the couch, buzzing. His stomach flipped, burning, springing saliva to his tongue. He hated this. “Nausea.”

“If you could describe how you’re feeling in one word, what comes to mind?” Her pen hung loosely in her hand, balanced on one knuckle. Her eyes had more wrinkles around them. Her shoulders sagged more. The bookshelf that had been to her right was now a side table with a glass of water and box of tissues.

He deliberately reminded himself that the faster he answered, the faster he could leave. Moreso than that, the faster he could get over the bullshit plaguing him. “Fear.”

“Mmm.” She nodded, clicking her pen into the top of the board. He didn’t like how she was sitting up. What was she about to say? Had she already psychoanalyzed him enough? Could she give him a plan to walk out of here and never break down again? “Thank you for exploring that with me.” Bruce sat further back into the couch when she resituated closer, nervous to bridge any of the distance padding their interactions. “Mind if I make an observation?”

He gestured for her to speak, wishing his body would stop trembling, giving itself away to her. Everything felt too charged, she was choosing her words too carefully… her tone too soothing, too soft. She pulled a paper from her stack, from the bottom of the clipboard. “You gave me the exact same answers after the death of your parents. What comes up when I say that?”

No shit. He didn’t suppress his eye-roll, a decision she’d praised him for years ago. ‘Expressing yourself is good, Bruce. Gets it out of your system. That’s what this place is for.’ She didn’t acknowledge it now. “That’s when they started.”

Her sigh was gentle, accommodating. It made him uncomfortable to sit in a room that felt like someone walking through his brain. “The reason I ask is that we identified some triggers and base fears in our previous work together. I’m curious if they hold up now.”

Bruce vaguely recalled a few, the general concepts of people and grief, but nothing specific. Still, his palms grew sweaty, the shaking increasing–so much so that he had to metabolize it by tapping both feet against the ground. The sticker-worthy cliches were coming back to him in whispers. ‘Go through to get through’ ‘feel to heal’, phrases that Alfred had picked up from their brief group meetings, employing incessantly at home in the year following their deaths. Maybe getting to the root will solve it. Make his brain a crumb more hospitable, no longer running completely loose. Maybe it was something about needing to save you somehow, like he’d felt with his parents. Finally, something he could logic through. You’d be gone from Gotham soon enough, and wouldn’t need any saving. You didn’t even want saving. Yeah. Bring it. Easy.

“Would you like me to read them to you?”

Bruce nodded.

“One of the activating events for you was making friends at school. You described it as being ‘scary’ to spend time with others. When I asked what was ‘scary’ about that, you said: ‘I don't want to be more sad’.”

Ah, shit. He felt like the room was swallowing him up, the walls closing in.

“Another activating event was sleeping. You used to have a lot of nightmares. We deduced the nightmares were flashbacks to–”

He cut her off, hoping it would salvage the last molecules of oxygen left in the room. “I remember them.”

She glanced over her glasses—when had she put those on?—and paused before saying the rest. “When I asked you what helps, you said being alone. You said ‘more people means more funerals’.”

More, more, more. He was shoved under a spotlight, her eyes the lens of a microscope, excavating all of what he’d so diligently buried. Was this therapy or suffering? Therapeutic, or torturous? The room began to spin.

“Do you think that’s still true for you?”

Stars entered his vision, blurring her features into one blob. She started her breathing thing again, which only made him more aware of his body. He felt claws around his neck, nails jamming into his skull, a bear sitting on his chest that he couldn’t roll out from under. “It’s bullshit. I don’t care about her.” He winced, like you might have overheard it. “I don’t have a reason to.”

If she was thinking something, her eyes didn’t give it away. “Do you need a reason to care about someone?”

His eyes could’ve bulged out of his head, a scoff rolling off his tongue, escaping the ropes of doom pulling him under. Obviously!

He wanted her to stay silent. Do the silent thing. Do fucking anything than keep her foot on his neck. “What’s the reason for others in your life?”

Speaking = leaving faster. “Alfred, Dory, they’re family.” He shook his head, the back of his throat lighting up in flames. Shocked the words were still coming out, certain his esophagus wasn’t open anymore, wishing these confessions brought any relief. “It’s stupid. Stupid.” His breaths were shallow, rapid, and he felt his brain shut down in one thunk. “She hasn’t, I don’t,”

“Take a deep breath in through your nose, then a long breath out–”

He started to wheeze, clamoring to his feet. “I can’t do this,”

Iris sat forward. “Bruce,”

He fell to the side of the couch, gasping. “I can’t fucking breathe,” he folded over the edge, clutching his chest. He needed to go to the hospital. She needed to call 911 now, while he was still partially here. He wouldn’t for long, one of these breaths was going to be his last, he knew it…

She crouched next to him, making him think of you. He slapped the thought down as quick as it came, unbearable. Dying. Chest. Air. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The last ten minutes had been hazy, in and out, but he was sitting on the opposite end of the couch now, fiddling with a stress ball she’d handed him during a grounding technique he barely remembered. His throat was thick with snot, his eyes hot and dry. He didn’t even have the strength to feel embarrassed, though the feeling kept knocking to be heard.

“How are you feeling now?” Her low, even voice was more soothing now. He was utterly depleted. Worn. Avoiding eye contact. “That grounding exercise seemed to help. Do you think so?”

Now he felt silly. Now he felt stupid, but he nodded. How ridiculous was it that he couldn’t even handle something as silly as a passing emotion? Call 911? She probably thought he was an idiot, but couldn’t say it because of therapeutic rapport or something. Or something. Even his thoughts weren’t forming right. He felt hollow.

“Panic attacks are terrifying, and draining. Do you want to stop for today, and come back next week?”

He had a visceral response, jolting back to life. “No. I want them to stop. Now.”

Her weak smile told him everything he needed to know. “Panic attacks are tricky. Especially when they’re attached to early traumas. Avoiding can sometimes have the opposite effect, increasing the panic response, and that fear you described.”

His body clenched with defeat, the last kicks of anger pouting like a little kid. “So I have to feel like this forever.”

She shook her head, but he didn’t believe her. If he wanted to panic, he could do that in any alley in the city. Could do it in his own bedroom. No witnesses. “Becoming more aware of triggers can help. Help us be kinder, gentler, utilize coping skills early on, before a full panic response. Sounds like one of the triggers is someone new in your life. That’s something we could explore.”

Fifteen minutes left on the clock, he shoved through. Still time for a breakthrough. No need to come back. Rapid fire. “Doesn’t that mean I don’t care? This panic?” It wasn’t a good feeling, and definitely not one anyone with any sense would associate with anything positive.

“Depends on what it stems from. Are you sure you’re wanting to discuss this today?”

“I want it done.”

A resonant pause, absolutely there to help his words echo. “What situations with her cause the attacks?”

“A lot.”

“What’s the most recent?”

“Being worried.” Shit, speaking this fast, maybe they could get somewhere.

“Being worried?”

The thought that swerved into him made him still. Made his chest hurt all over again. Made him afraid it wouldn’t stop. He pulled a sigh from the depth of his chest cavity, swearing he could taste the blood on his tongue. “That she’s gonna die.”

“Is that a common thread with the other times?”

He hardly heard her as he stared off into space, his mind and body numb.

“If this is too distressing,”

Bruce felt the world fall away. “When she tries to help me. It’s too much.” The clock didn’t tick anymore. His lungs didn’t breathe anymore. His stomach shivered, pulling its lining into his throat.

“Overbearing? Overstimulating?”

Every breath was a swallowed knife. Every word spoken under his breath evaporating into mist. “It’s like I'm on fire.”

He was far away, but finally in the feeling. “Stay with that. What is it saying?”

The walls shifted and moved, glimmers of light fusing to the center of his retinas. “…Run. Everywhere.” His face twitched. “Closer. Farther.” A tear slid down his cheek, but he couldn’t move. Blood spurted in his ears. Globbed over his shoes.

“Is any direction louder?”

“No. Yes.”

“Which one?”

It came out in a gasp, thick with saliva. “Closer.”

“But the flames hurt.”

His body shuddered. Exhaustion split his spine, his shoulders calloused from the barbell welded to his skin. His empty voice showed how intensely he yearned for rest. “Yeah.”

“Is that why you were saying it’s stupid? Stupid to walk into a fire?”

His jaw quivered when he nodded.

“Sounds like there’s something that draws you in.” She followed his analogy. “Fires can destroy, but they’re also warm. Full of light.”

His eyes shut and his chin fell to his chest. No words flowed in or out, no feelings but the weight of his bones and a keen awareness of the flesh casing them. He didn’t know how long he sat there. He couldn’t feel time passing at all.

“What’s pulling you closer?”

He winced.

“Is the fire too bright?”

All the saliva left his mouth, and he blinked back into the room, orbs of light swimming in his periphery. “I won’t make it.”

“Sounds like your body trying to protect itself. Survival.”

His face squeezed in unison with his hands, his body coming back into focus. “I don’t want to go through any of that ever again. I can’t.”

“Or you won’t make it?”

“I’m not made for that.”

“For what?”

He thought of the slip of the grapple between his fingers when he wasn’t sure it took. The disorienting overwhelm of an elbow to the mouth while a chorus of shouts and gunshots peppered his chest. The metal-on-metal wrenching of a loose axle joint on a high-speed chase. Nothing frightened him more than the feeling of being around you. And nothing had ever made him feel more ridiculous.

Bruce packed up then, taking his copy of the intake forms from her clipboard on the way out. She thanked him for coming, sharing that her schedule was pretty available for the coming weeks if he wanted to dive deeper. “It was pleasant to see you again, Bruce. I hope you take care.”

He took a moment before going to the basement to haul his weary body to bed. He laid on his back and counted the dusty cobwebs lacing the ceiling; if he suspended disbelief enough, he could place himself there. Counting the boards on his ceiling and the creaks of the walls in the wind. Feel the dying hope in his chest that it was all just a nightmare. See the fading indents of his mother’s slippers until the carpet bounced back.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to dive deeper. Maybe he wasn’t made for it, but god… you made the concept alluring.