#You kind of know something is very wrong but at the same time you're already so far gone it's hard to think anything

[nanamisexyslut]

Tension in the Air

quick summary for y'all : Things are getting complicated. Between lingering glances, unspoken feelings, and unexpected confessions, you're stuck between two very different guys Nanami Kento, the calm and quiet but somewhat possessive neighbor, and Renji Abarai, the one with a past he’s still carrying but is trying. Emotions are rising, tensions are high, and nothing will be the same after this chapter...

tags : nanami x fem!reader, renji x fem!reader, romantic tension, slow burn for now, bit of angsty romance, unrequited love, emotional conflict, and cross over between jjk, aot, and bleach (eventually nana)

quick note : the word count on this is apt 10.4k and i have a lot of the story written down already I just wanted to give a bit of lore before the smut :D but this is my first time making a fan fic y'all so bear with me and please enjoy.

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It’s the first day of my sophomore year, and I wish I could say I’m excited, but I’m not. My body’s running on fumes, my brain has been on autopilot since June, and the monotony of my routine is starting to take its toll. Balancing full-time work with a full-time course load is no joke. Every day feels like a loop: early mornings, long commutes, rushing through traffic, only to be greeted by a parking ticket waiting for me like a cruel welcome mat.

Then, the usual rituals—circling the parking lot for a space, hauling my bag up stairs, weaving through crowds of students to get to class, and finally sitting in a room filled with people who either talk too much, don’t talk at all, or just rub me the wrong way. And yet, I show up. Deep down, I know I have to. I want a future. I want a real career. I want to make my parents proud. They left everything behind—their language, their culture, their comfort—to give me a shot at a better life. I owe it to them to at least try. 

So, I sit in my car for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel, and take a deep breath.

The kind that tries to cleanse your spirit but mostly just fogs up the windshield.

Then, I grab my bag, shove the door open, and walk across campus toward my law class. The hallway is familiar—too familiar. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, and a swarm of students moves around me like bees. The scent of burnt coffee and cheap cologne fills the air. As I enter the lecture hall, I spot them—my usual crew. Some familiar faces from last semester already gathered in the same corner of the room like they never left: Shoko, Nanami, Rukia, and Gojo.

Gojo is the first to spot me, of course. With that unmistakable grin, he jumps up and throws his arms wide like he’s about to give me a bear hug. “Y/L! We missed you so much!” he practically shouts across the room. “How was your summer?”

I smirk, slinging my bag over my chair. “It was fine… How about you, Satoru?” I ask, giving him a half smile—somewhere between genuine and exhausted.

He plops into the seat next to me, sunglasses pushed up on his head, still the same dramatic whirlwind of energy. “Oh, you know me—annoyed a few professors, found the meaning of life in a microwave burrito. The usual.”

Shoko rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath, while Nanami gives me a nod of acknowledgment—his version of a warm welcome. Rukia pats the empty seat beside her, and I slide in, already feeling a little lighter. Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.

I sink into my seat and thank God I’m next to Rukia—my best friend, my ride-or-die, my soul sister. We’ve been inseparable since childhood. She's practically family. Rukia is everything I’m not—confident, fearless, poised. She’s beautiful without trying, ambitious without being arrogant, and walks through life with a sense of certainty I envy more than I’ll ever admit. Where I overthink, she acts. Where I doubt, she decides. Sitting next to her makes everything feel a little less overwhelming.

Gojo is across the room, already causing chaos with our mutual friend Geto. Typical. Meanwhile, Shoko and Nanami are seated just beside us.

I can feel Nanami’s gaze on me before I even look up. It’s subtle, but it lingers. There have always been little rumors that Nanami might have a crush on me. I never took them seriously. He’s too composed, too aloof. Whenever we hang out, whether with the group or one-on-one, he keeps a polite distance, like there’s a wall between us only he can see. Not that I’ve ever been that into him… right?

Okay, I’ll admit he’s attractive. Not in a conventional, heartthrob way, but in a quiet, powerful kind of way. He’s tall, built like someone who lifts for function, not attention, and always carries himself like a man who knows exactly who he is. He’s brilliant, listens more than he speaks, and is loaded—though I swear that’s not important. He’s never let me pay for a single thing, and, yeah, I like that. What really gets me, though, is how respectful he is. To every woman. The way he softens his tone, the way he actually listens. There’s something insanely attractive about a man who knows when to shut up and just let a woman speak. Dominant, but not overbearing. Obedient, but not weak. But all that said, he’s never shown real interest in me. Not enough to believe the rumors.

“Alright, class! Get into groups of three!” Professor Hange calls out from the front of the room, clapping her hands for emphasis. The sound of chairs scraping, conversations bubbling up, and the shuffle of bodies fills the room like a wave. People are pairing off quickly, forming tight clusters.

Rukia and I glance at each other, realizing we’re one short.

“Who doesn’t have a third?” Hange asks, scanning the room. We raise our hands.

Professor Hange points toward the back. “Abarai! Please form a group with Miss L/N and Kuchiki.”

I turn to see him approaching. Tall—maybe 6’2, with a lean, muscular build that says he spends time in the gym but doesn’t brag about it. His crimson red hair is pulled back in a ponytail, a black headband covering the ink on his temples. His expression? A storm brewing. Like he’d rather be anywhere else than walking toward us.

Renji Abarai. He looks like trouble. And judging by the way his eyes narrow slightly as he approaches our table, he’s definitely not thrilled about being paired with us. He stops in front of us, arms crossed over his chest. “Guess I’m with you two,” he mutters, voice low and rough.

Rukia raises an eyebrow and leans back in her chair, clearly unimpressed. I, on the other hand, look up at him with a mix of curiosity and guarded interest. Something about him intrigues me—the quiet confidence, the sharp edge in his voice, the way he carries himself like he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation. He’s got that smug, slightly challenging air, like he’s already sized me up and decided not to be impressed. But he’s not rude. Just rough around the edges. Still, I’m not put off by it.

“Renji,” he says, nodding slightly. “Y/L,” I reply, offering a small smile. His lip quirks into the faintest smirk. Not warm, not cold. Just enough to say, I can’t read him.

After a beat, I clear my throat and offer, “We could do a case where a whistleblower leaks confidential documents from a pharmaceutical company. The files reveal that the company was hiding a life-threatening side effect of one of its best-selling drugs. The leak ends up saving lives but the whistleblower hacked into private servers to get the information and shared it with the press, which violates federal law. Now the company is suing for damages and pressing criminal charges. Our job would be to defend the whistleblower in court.”

Rukia nods slowly, impressed. “That’s actually solid. We could argue public interest versus corporate confidentiality.”

Renji leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “Risking legal punishment to save lives… I like it.”

And just like that, we’re locked in.

Class wraps up for the day, and the sound of chairs scraping and notebooks closing fills the room. I gather my things, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Rukia and I exchange numbers with Renji before we all head out together, walking down the hallway toward the warm afternoon light.

“We should figure out when to meet and work on the assignment,” Rukia suggests, checking her calendar.

“How about we do it at my house?” I offer, shrugging casually. “My parents wouldn’t mind, especially since it’s for school. I don’t think they’ll try to burn the house down or anything.”

Renji raises an eyebrow, his voice tinged with annoyance. “You still live with your parents?”

I’m not offended, though I sense a slight judgment in his tone. “Yeah,” I say honestly, “It doesn’t bother me. I’m planning to transfer to Y University after this year. It’s just cheaper to stay home for now and figure out housing once I graduate. Law school’s gonna drain me enough as it is.”

Renji opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, a familiar voice calls out from behind.

“Y/L!” Gojo jogs toward us, a grin plastered on his face. “Me and the crew are gonna grab some pizza—you guys coming?”

“Pizza?! I’m down as fuck,” Rukia grins, already convinced. I laugh and nod.

“I’m in.”

I glance at Renji, giving him a tentative invitation. “Hey, Renji… wanna come with us?”

The group goes quiet for a second. I feel their eyes on me, especially Nanami’s. They all look slightly confused, like my invitation came out of nowhere. But I don’t think it’s weird. He’s my partner for the assignment. I’m just trying to be friendly. It’s not like I invited a serial killer or something.

Renji looks startled, almost caught off guard. His eyes widen, and for a second, he just stares at me, clearly processing.

“Thanks, but I’ve got other plans tonight,” he says, his voice softer than I expected. “Still, I appreciate the offer.”

I smile and nod. “No problem.”

Rukia and I wish him a good night, and we part ways at the edge of campus. As we head to our cars, The night is calm, the cool air brushing against us. Nanami quietly falls into step beside me, like he always does. It’s never something we plan—he just ends up there, walking me to my car like it's his natural place to be. He doesn’t do that for anyone else. I’ve never asked why but I don’t mind.

Rukia shoots me a look when we near the lot, her grin giving everything away. “I’ll meet you guys at the pizza shop,” she says, voice light and teasing as she walks off.

I roll my eyes, but I don’t stop her. Nanami and I keep moving in silence. His presence feels heavier than usual—quiet, sure, but charged with something I can’t quite name.

When we reach my car, I unlock it and turn to him. “Do you want a ride to yours?” I offer, casually. “It’s the least I can do for you walking me to mine.”

Nanami pauses for a beat. “Yeah,” he says, voice low. “I’ll take you up on that.”

We both get in, and the moment the doors close behind us, something shifts. The night seems quieter inside the car, the windows framing the stillness around us. I start the engine, but don’t drive off yet.

He turns his head, meeting my eyes. “To the pizza place. You didn’t have to invite him.”

I raise an eyebrow, unsure if I heard him right. “Renji?”

He nods once. His expression is unreadable, but his jaw tenses slightly. “He’s not really part of the group. Yet you brought him in like he was.”

I blink, thrown by the edge in his tone. “I was just being polite. We’re working on the same case. It felt… fair.”

Nanami looks away, eyes on the windshield now. “Fair,” he repeats under his breath, like it tastes bitter in his mouth. “Sure.”

Something in his voice makes my pulse skip. He doesn’t raise it—he never does—but there’s a tightness behind the calm, like he's working hard to keep himself in check.

I glance over at him, trying to read him. “You don’t like him.”

“It’s not about liking or disliking,” he replies evenly, still not looking at me. “I just don’t think you see him clearly.”

The air in the car stills.

I search his profile for a hint of something more—jealousy, concern, maybe even hurt—but all I find is that same calm mask he always wears. Except now, it feels like a shield.

I speak carefully. “He’s just a classmate, Nanami.”

He finally turns his head to look at me again, and this time, the softness in his gaze catches me off guard. “That’s not how he sees you.”

My breath hitches. For a second, neither of us speaks. The tension hums between us—charged, quiet, almost intimate.

Then, he leans back in his seat and looks away. “But it’s none of my business,” he adds, more to himself than to me.

I grip the steering wheel, heart racing. The engine hums softly beneath us, but the silence is louder.

I smirk a little, turning to face him fully. “Ouu… is that jealousy I hear, Nanami?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just gives me a slow glance out of the corner of his eye. “No,” he mutters, almost convincing. “Just didn’t want him acting like he does in class, that’s all.”

I raise an eyebrow, amused—and a little intrigued. “So you do think he’s kind of a douche.”

Nanami lets the smallest smirk show, like he’s trying not to, but it slips through. “Maybe I do.”

I laugh under my breath, the tension softening just enough to breathe. It was tight in the car for a minute there—tight with something unspoken. Something that lingered between what we said and what we didn’t.

I pull out of the lot, merging onto the street as we head toward the garage. The silence returns, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s thoughtful. Weighted.

Then, out of nowhere, Nanami speaks again—softer this time. “Y/L… do you ever feel like you’re just… barely holding it together?”

The question cuts through everything else. I glance at him, heart tugging a little at the look on his face—so calm on the surface, always so composed. But there’s a flicker of something in his eyes now. Something quieter. Raw. And it shakes something loose in me.

“All the time,” I admit, voice low. “It feels like if I let go for even a second… everything would fall apart.”

He shifts slightly toward me, his posture still reserved, but something in him reaching. Tentatively, he extends his hand and gently takes mine. His fingers wrap around mine, warm and steady. His thumb strokes once across the back of my hand—slow, deliberate, grounding.

“You don’t have to do it all alone,” he says, voice low. “Let someone carry it with you. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

My chest tightens—not from sadness, but from something that feels like safety. Like softness I didn’t realize I’d been craving. I turn to face him more fully, one hand still on the wheel, and lift my other hand to his cheek. My palm rests there, light but certain, the warmth of his skin meeting mine.

His breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest second before opening again—brighter now. Softer.

A faint blush tints his cheeks, and it’s… honestly kind of adorable.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Really.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull away. His eyes stay on mine like he’s trying to memorize something. Like he doesn’t want to forget this moment.

Then, almost shyly, he says, “You look really beautiful tonight.”

My breath catches. Of all the things he could say—he chose that. And he means it. I see it in the way his gaze dips slightly, in how it lingers, taking in every detail like it’s precious.

“You really think so?” I murmur, almost teasing, but I can’t stop the small smile spreading across my face.

“I do,” he says, firmer this time. “I always think so. But tonight… I don’t know. You just look like you. And I love it.”

He’s still holding my hand. My fingers are curled gently into his, and his cheek is warm under my touch. My heart’s beating so loud I swear he must hear it.

“I like when you blush,” I say softly, letting the corner of my mouth curve. “It’s cute.”

He doesn’t smile, not fully—but there’s a softness in his expression that says more than he probably ever will out loud. A moment passes. Then, he gently pulls away, opens the door, and steps out into the cool night air. He pauses, glancing back at me through the open car door.

“I’ll see you there,” he says, quiet but certain. “Drive safe.”

“You too,” I reply. “Drive safe.”

I watch as he walks to his car, hands in his pockets, posture tall but thoughtful. There’s something unspoken in the way he walks. Like his mind is still back here in the car. With me.

As I pull away, his words echo in the quiet of my chest.

“You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

But I do… don’t I?

And yet… I can’t shake the feeling that Nanami is starting to make me question that.

The local pizza joint is buzzing when we walk in—cheap neon lights flickering above cracked vinyl booths, the smell of garlic and grease clinging to everything like secondhand smoke, and some guy’s remix playlist rattling the walls. It’s chaotic, messy, and way too loud. Basically, Gojo’s natural habitat.

Rukia and I spot the group immediately. Nanami, Shoko, Geto, and Gojo are already crammed into a booth, half the table buried under greasy paper plates and half-empty soda cups. Gojo’s holding court with both hands, already halfway into some dramatic retelling.

“—and then I said, ‘It’s Satoru, but I am the G.O.A.T., so like… fair,’” he finishes, grinning. He spots us and points with his cup. “There they are! The brave scholars. Pizza’s hot, but your entrance is hotter.”

“Relax,” I say, sliding into the booth beside Nanami. He shifts slightly to make space, and our shoulders brush. He doesn’t pull away. Neither do I. “We had to park three blocks away thanks to Gojo’s cult following.”

Rukia collapses beside me, already reaching for a slice. “Honestly, this pizza is healing my soul after Professor Hange tried to crush it.”

Shoko leans in, interested. “What scenario did you guys end up with?”

“We picked the pharmaceutical whistleblower case,” I say, wiping my hands. “It’s messy. Layered. Legally complicated with a moral kick.”

“We’re defending the whistleblower,” Rukia adds. “They broke the law, yeah—but they also saved lives. The kind of case that makes you think.”

Geto nods. “Classic ‘gray area’ pick. Definitely a thinker. You two are going to start a civil war in class.”

Shoko raises her drink. “Respect. That’s a tough case to pull off in front of Professor Hange.”

Then Nanami speaks, his voice calm and measured. “You both chose well. It’s the kind of scenario that demands clarity and conviction. You have that. Especially you, Y/L.”

My head turns slightly. That last part—it lands soft but sharp. Nanami’s not the type to say things just to say them. I meet his gaze for a second, and something tightens in my chest.

Rukia catches the shift and grins. “Nanami, was that almost a compliment?”

He glances at her, then back to me. “It was an observation.”

Gojo nearly chokes on his drink. “Wow. Compliments and emotional insight? What’s next, Nanami? A mixtape?”

Gojo grins, sensing the shift. “Look at that. Emotional support wrapped in legal analysis. If that’s not flirting, I don’t know what is.”

I shake my head, cheeks warm, and reach for a napkin—only to brush my fingers against Nanami’s. He doesn’t pull away. Neither do I. It lasts only a second, but the contact stays with me like heat.

Gojo notices, of course. “Almost as spicy as you inviting Renji to join us. Didn’t see that plot twist coming.”

My smile falters. “What?”

“Oh yeah,” Shoko grins. “You went out of your way to invite him after class.”

Gojo leans in like he’s narrating a soap opera. “Bold move. The loner with the bad attitude? You’re playing with fire, Y/L.”

I shake my head. “It wasn’t like that. I just thought it could be a good time to get to know him and work on the project.”

Nanami’s quiet beside me, but something shifts in the air around him. I glance over. His jaw’s a little tighter than before, though his expression remains unreadable.

And Gojo? He’s having the time of his life.

“Careful, Nanami,” he teases. “Sounds like you’ve got competition now.”

Nanami lifts his drink slowly, unbothered. “I’m not worried.”

“Which is exactly what someone with a crush would say,” Shoko adds, smirking.

Rukia’s gaze flicks between us like she’s watching a long-simmering plot finally boil. “He’s been sitting next to her for ten minutes and hasn’t looked away once.”

Nanami meets my eyes again, steady and quiet, and I feel the spark of something there—unspoken, but real.

Gojo leans across the table like he’s offering a toast. “To Y/L: making bad boys feel seen and emotionally repressed boys feel things.”

I groan, nudging Rukia with my foot under the table. She just laughs and keeps eating.

The night spins out into more laughter and chaos. Somehow, Nanami and I end up doing most of the cleanup while everyone else argues over who’s paying the tip. He passes me a stack of cups, his sleeve brushing against my wrist. I glance at him. He’s calm as ever, but there’s something in his eyes—steady and unreadable, like he’s waiting for me to say something I haven’t figured out yet.

As we head out, Gojo stretches dramatically. “We need to do this more often. Who knows, maybe Renji will show and grace us with a whole sentence.”

I laugh, but something about the comment lingers. I remember Renji’s face when I invited him—surprised, like no one had ever bothered before. There’s something under the surface with him, and I want to understand it.

Still, as we leave the pizza place and the cool air brushes against my skin, it’s Nanami’s presence I’m aware of. He walks close—not too close—but when his hand brushes mine again, light and quick like a question, I let it happen.

Rukia and I make our way back to my car, the neon fading behind us.

She bumps me with her shoulder. “Soo… Nanami, huh?”

“Don’t.”

“He was watching you, Y/L. Like you were the last piece of evidence in a case he couldn’t solve.”

I sigh, unlocking the car. “He’s just… thoughtful. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, smirking. “You sure he wasn’t thinking about how to plead guilty to falling for you?”

I groan. “We’ve got to meet with Renji tomorrow. Focus on that.”

But my hand still tingles from where it met Nanami’s, and his voice echoes in my mind like a quiet truth I’m not ready to name.

“Oh yeah,” she grins. “You ready for that adventure? I still can’t believe you invited him. Gojo’s face looked like you brought home a stray cat.”

“Maybe I did.”

We both laugh, but the truth is I’m curious. Renji’s reaction to my invite has stayed with me. Something about the way he hesitated… like he wasn’t used to being included.

The next day, we meet at my house. I tidy up the living room more than necessary and pretend I’m not overthinking it. My parents greet Rukia warmly, already used to her presence, and then the doorbell rings.

Renji walks in, backpack slung over his shoulder, still wearing that headband, still looking like he walked straight out of a fight scene. But when he sees us, he gives the smallest nod.

“You got snacks?” he asks, eyeing the kitchen.

Rukia grins. “Of course. We’re not savages.”

We settle in, papers, laptops, and printed case details spread across the table. Renji reads through the packet silently, then looks up.

“You two seriously wanna defend this guy?” he asks, one brow raised.

I nod. “Yeah. He did the wrong thing… but for the right reasons. That’s the whole point of the dilemma.”

He leans back, arms crossed. “I like that. Makes it hard. You could win the class with this, if we do it right.”

Rukia whistles. “Was that... encouragement?”

Renji smirks slightly. “Don’t get used to it.”

And just like that, the energy shifts. Not totally warm, not cold either—just possible. 

Just as we’re settling deeper into our materials, I hear the soft creak of the hallway floorboards my parents.

They step into the living room with warm smiles. My mom wraps me in a quick hug, brushing a kiss on my forehead, while my dad ruffles my hair like I’m still sixteen. It’s automatic, comforting, and a little embarrassing with company around.

“We’re heading out for a bit,” my mom says. “Don’t work too hard.”

My dad adds, “Make sure your guests are comfortable. There’s plenty of snacks in the kitchen, and if you get hungry, order something. Here” he slips a folded bill into my hand, insisting before I can even object. “Just in case.”

“Dad, I work full-time,” I whisper, glancing toward Renji and Rukia. “I can handle it.”

He smiles, but it’s the kind that means I shouldn’t push it. “Just take it. That’s what parents are for.”

They hug Rukia goodbye my mom always loved her and then turn to Renji. My dad offers a polite wave. “Nice to meet you. Good luck with the project, and help yourselves if you need anything.”

Renji nods stiffly. “Thanks.”

As soon as they leave, I tuck the cash into my wallet and try not to feel like a child.

“If you guys get hungry later, just let me know,” I mumble. “My dad gave us some money to order food.”

Rukia smiles and bumps my shoulder. “Your parents are always so generous. I love that they still look out for you.”

Renji, on the other hand, raises a brow. “They lend you money like that? Even though you work full time?”

I hesitate. “Y-Yeah. I think they just want to make sure I’m okay.”

He doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face says enough. Disapproval. Maybe even confusion. And honestly? It grates on me. This—this—is exactly why I hesitate to talk about my family around people like him. My parents don’t see generosity as enabling; they see it as love.

I clear my throat and change the subject. “Let’s focus on our project.”

We sit around the low coffee table, laptops open, case files laid out between us like a war plan. The fictional scenario is complex. A whistleblower illegally leaked documents that revealed a pharmaceutical company’s cover-up of a dangerous side effect. Lives were saved, but laws were broken. We’re tasked with defending the whistleblower justifying their actions within a legal framework that wasn’t designed for heroics.

Rukia and I start outlining arguments based on public interest, whistleblower protection statutes, and moral obligations in corporate accountability. But Renji?

He crosses his arms, clearly unconvinced.

“I still think the guy should’ve gone through legal channels instead of hacking in,” he says. “There were other ways. He broke federal law.”

“He had to,” Rukia argues, flipping through her notes. “All the proper channels were either compromised or too slow. People were dying.”

“There’s still a system,” Renji insists. “If we start defending people for breaking the law just because it feels right, where does it end?”

I sigh. “It’s not about ‘feelings.’ It’s about the greater good. The case is messy for a reason it forces you to weigh morality against legality. That’s literally the point.”

Renji shrugs, clearly not buying it. “Doesn’t mean I have to agree with it. If you want the class to take us seriously, we better come up with more than just some idealistic speech about ethics.”

Rukia leans back, arms crossed, frustrated. “Wehave the legal foundation. Whistleblower statutes, First Amendment protections, even case precedent. You're acting like we’re making this up out of thin air.”

“And you’re acting like he’s some martyr,” Renji shoots back. The tension builds, sharp and steady. i bite back my irritation. “Look, if you don’t like the argument, that’s fine. But this is the scenario wechose. So either help us strengthen it, or come up with something better than just ‘follow the rules.’ Because that’s not going to win us anything.”

Renji stares at me for a second. Then maybe for the first time his expression shifts. Less combative. More… thoughtful.

“Alright,” he says slowly. “Then let’s find a way to make the law work in his favor, without sounding like we’re excusing a crime.”

Rukia and I exchange a look. Not exactly a win, but not a loss either.

We get back to work, the room quieter now less about arguing, more about building. And somewhere in the middle of all that silence, I realize Renji’s not impossible. He’s just guarded.

But even guarded people have reasons for how they see the world.

And I’m starting to want to know his.

After nearly two straight hours of bouncing ideas around, debating case law, and refining our argument, Rukia throws her head back and groans dramatically.

“I’m starvin’ like Marvin right now,” she says, placing a hand on her stomach like she’s about to wither away.

Before I can answer, Amora my fluffball of a cat leaps up onto the couch, landing gracefully right beside Renji. I tense, expecting her usual routine a few seconds of observation followed by a tail flick and a dramatic exit. She's never been much of a social cat… especially not with men.

“Don’t worry,” I say, waving a hand casually. “She’s nice just doesn’t really like”

She hops directly into Renji’s lap.

And trills. Loudly. Constantly. Like he’s the first warm lap she's ever known in her life.

My jaw drops. “Wait. You’re saying… she doesn’t like men?” Renji asks, petting her awkwardly as she rubs her face all over his hoodie.

“I—I mean yeah,” I mutter, squinting like I’m seeing a glitch in the Matrix. “She’s never even trilled on Nanami. I don’t think she’s trilled for any guy. She’s kind of a feminist.”

“Well,” Renji says, giving her a couple of gentle strokes, “seems like she’s taken a liking to me.”

Rukia dramatically smacks her hand against the couch. “GUYSSSS. I’m really hungry right now.”

I jump a little. “Oh my god Rukia, I’m sorry, I forgot you were dying.”

She rolls her eyes but smirks. “Starvation makes you invisible, apparently.”

I turn to Renji. “You hungry?”

He nods once. “Yeah. I could eat.”

We gather our stuff and pile into my car. As I pull out of the driveway, the late evening air is warm and quiet, the street lamps giving everything a slightly golden glow. Rukia turns in her seat, eyes lit up mischievously.

“Y’know what else I’m craving?” she says, already smirking.

I glance over. “What?”

“Kava,” she says like it’s a secret between us.

My face lights up. “Oh thank god, I was hoping you’d say that. We’re literally about to pass the place.”

I glance at Renji in the backseat. “Renji, do you know what kava is?”

“Yes,” he says a little too quickly, almost offended like I just asked him if he knows what water is.

I blink. “Okay. Well. A lot of people don’t, so I was just—whatever. You want some?”

“Sure. I don’t mind.”

We park, and the three of us walk up to our usual little kava spot, a chill place with low lighting and reggae humming softly from inside. Rukia orders a single shot. Renji and I both go for doubles.

He looks at me like I’ve committed an act of bravery. “Double?” he asks.

I shrug. “Yeah. One doesn’t do anything to me anymore. I’ve built immunity.”

They call out our names and hand over the little cups of earthy, bitter liquid. We take them back to the car in silence, each one holding our shot like it’s some ceremonial chalice. I laugh to myself thinking how ritualistic it all feels.

We hop back into the car and head to In-N-Out. It’s a long line, as always, and the car settles into a peaceful quiet. There’s no music, just faint conversation about kava how it makes me and Rukia a little nauseous if we haven’t eaten first, how we still love it anyway. Renji listens, occasionally chiming in, but mostly seems to be observing. Taking us in.

After we get our food, we drive back to my house and park in the driveway. Before heading in, we all step out with our shots, the porch light casting soft shadows on our faces. One by one, we knock them back. The taste is bitter, muddy, but the feeling that follows is warm. Grounding.

Thankfully, I remembered my Hydro Flask, so we each rinse out our mouths like seasoned pros.

Back inside, we settle around the dining table. The smell of fries and burgers quickly fills the room, blending oddly well with the soft hum of leftover incense my mom lit earlier. Rukia is already tearing into her meal like it’s her last. Renji eats slower, quieter, but he’s relaxed more than he was earlier. Amora is back, curled up near his feet like she’s claimed him.

I watch them both with curiously. 

Something about tonight feels different. Less like an assignment, more like a beginning of something I can’t quite name yet.

After we finish eating, the effects of the kava start settling into my body like heavy fog. My speech slurs slightly, and every time I move my head, the world shifts with it slow and blurry, like a dream with a bad frame rate.

Rukia, of course, has already knocked out cold on the couch, curled up like a cat. Lightweight. Classic. Renji, meanwhile, looks completely unfazed calm, composed, chewing the last of his fries like nothing’s touched him. Not even the kava.

I glance at Rukia again and notice how awkwardly her neck is tilted. Guilt tugs at me, and I slowly get up, adjusting her so she’s lying comfortably with a throw pillow under her head. But as soon as I stand, the nausea rushes in like a tidal wave. My stomach flips.

I stumble toward the backyard door, shove it open, and run out into the cool night air just in time to throw up everything I just ate.

Behind me, I hear quick footsteps and feel someone gently gather my hair out of the way and start rubbing soothing circles on my back. His touch is surprisingly steady. Grounding.

“Hey,” Renji says softly. “Are you okay? Do you need water?”

I glance up at him through watery eyes, nodding weakly. I must look a mess sweaty, pale, eyes teary from throwing up. But he doesn’t flinch. He just nods and rushes back inside.

A minute later, he returns with a cup of cold water. I rinse my mouth and barely have time to breathe before another wave of nausea hits. Two more rounds of throwing up follow before I finally slump forward, exhausted and embarrassed.

“You don’t have to watch this,” I say between shaky breaths. “I’m fine. Just go back inside.”

“I don’t think you are,” he replies, voice calm but concerned. Not annoyed. Not grossed out. Just steady.

He helps me to my feet, one arm gently supporting me as we walk back into the house. Every step feels like it takes more energy than I have, but he doesn’t let me fall. He sits me down at the kitchen table, grabs a napkin, and hands it to me as I rest my head against the cool surface.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble into the table. “I don’t usually throw up in front of people. Especially not people I barely know.”

Renji pulls out the chair next to me and places a reassuring hand on my back. “It’s okay. I’ve dealt with worse. Just take it easy, alright?”

I manage a weak laugh. “Kava doesn’t usually hit me this hard, but maybe two shots was pushing it tonight.”

“Maybe stick to one next time,” he says, his tone softer than usual. “Even if it ‘doesn’t work,’ like you said.”

I groan and bury my face in my arms. “God, this is so embarrassing.”

He leans back a bit, watching me quietly. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. You’re human. And, for what it’s worth, you handled it better than most.”

That surprises me not just his patience, but the way his voice drops when he says it, like he's not just saying it to be polite. He means it. It’s so different from the version of him I’m used to seeing in class the blunt, borderline abrasive guy who seems like he doesn’t have time for anyone.

Right now, though, he’s not like that at all.

He’s just here.

And for some reason, that makes me feel a little less alone.

I sit there with my head down, arms folded like a makeshift pillow on the kitchen table. The nausea’s fading, but in its place is a heavy wave of embarrassment. I can feel Renji’s eyes on me, steady and unreadable.

“I know you probably didn’t expect this when you agreed to come over for a group project,” I mumble, barely loud enough to hear.

He shrugs lightly. “I didn’t expect to get head butted by your cat either, but here we are.”

I laugh just a little and lift my head enough to glance at him. He’s still sitting next to me, his posture relaxed but eyes a little softer than usual.

“You’re really not as mean as you come off,” I say before I can stop myself. “Like… you can be intense, yeah. But tonight you’ve been gentle.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just runs a hand through his hair and looks down at the floor.

“I’ve seen people go through worse,” he finally says. “If someone’s throwing up from something that’s supposed to make you relax, I figure there’s more going on under the surface.”

My throat tightens a little. Not from nausea this time, but from the honesty in his voice.

“I work full time,” I say quietly. “And I study full time. And sometimes… the pressure builds up. Kava just helps me feel like I’m not drowning for a few hours.”

He nods. “Yeah. I get that.” A pause. “You don’t strike me as someone who ever lets yourself fall apart.”

I look at him, startled. “What makes you say that?”

He meets my eyes. “Because even tonight, when you threw up, you still tried to get back up and fix things. You’re always managing something. Even your guilt.”

That hits harder than I expect it to. I stare at him for a second, unsure of what to say, but I don’t have to. The quiet between us feels almost… safe.

A soft snort breaks the silence.

Rukia, groggy and still half asleep, shifts on the couch. “Did someone say guilt? Or is the kitchen spinning?”

I turn to look at her, grateful for the interruption. “You good?”

“Define good,” she mutters, rubbing her face. “Why does my mouth taste like stress?”

Renji smirks. “Kava.”

“Gross,” she groans, sitting up and pointing at me. “You puked, didn’t you?”

I nod sheepishly.

She squints between us, then grins. “And Renji stayed with you?”

He rolls his eyes. “She needed water. It’s not that deep.”

“Mmm,” she hums knowingly. “That’s not what it looked like from this couch.”

I throw a napkin at her and she laughs, falling back against the cushions. The weight in my chest lifts a little. But I don’t miss the way Renji’s eyes linger on me before he looks away like he wants to say something else but doesn’t quite know how.

Later, when we walk him out, the porch light hums above us and the night air is still cool.

“Thanks for tonight,” I tell him, quietly. “For staying. For being patient.”

He looks at me for a long beat before nodding.

“See you in class,” he says. But it sounds like there’s more behind it.

As he walks away, I watch his figure fade into the darkness, my stomach finally settled but something new turning quietly in its place. 

Renji had finally left, and Rukia and I were sitting cross-legged on my bed, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows around the room. The quiet hum of my ceiling fan was the only sound as we both relaxed, my thoughts still lingering on the mess from earlier.

I glanced over at her, noticing the mischievous smirk on her face. "What?" I asked, half-expecting her to make some joke about how awkward the whole throwing-up incident was.

Rukia shrugged, but her grin only widened. "You know, I wasn't exactly asleep."

I blinked at her, caught off guard. "What? You—what are you talking about?"

"I wasn't knocked out," she said, her voice light and teasing. "I was awake the whole time. And I heard everything."

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. "Rukia, please don't tell me you overheard all of that."

She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I heard plenty. Especially when you were out in the yard with Renji."

My stomach dropped, the memory of that whole interaction rushing back. "No way," I muttered, the embarrassment creeping up my neck.

"Oh, yes way," she teased, crossing her arms. "And honestly? The way Renji was looking after you? It wasn’t just because you were throwing up. You could practically feel the guy's concern. It was pretty obvious, you know?"

I shifted uncomfortably, the realization hitting me slowly. "Rukia, come on. He's just my partner. He was being decent."

She raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. "Okay, but, like, he stayed the whole time. After everything, after seeing you at your worst, he didn't bail. He was worried. For you." She paused, letting the words settle in. "And when he was helping you back inside? That wasn't just being 'decent.' That was him making sure you were okay."

I felt my face flush. "I don't know, Rukia. I don’t want to make it into something it’s not. It’s just… it’s just Renji."

She looked at me with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Yeah, but that 'just Renji' guy? He's got more feelings than you're giving him credit for."

I sat up, my mind racing. "You really think so?"

"Come on, Y/L," she said, her voice dropping to a softer tone. "I’ve known you forever. You’re not blind. You felt it, didn't you? The way he looked at you? The way he made sure you were okay? He might not say it, but there’s something there."

I bit my lip, the weight of her words settling in. "I don't know… It just feels complicated. I don't want to make things weird."

Rukia shrugged but gave me a thoughtful look. "I get it. It’s not easy. But just don't be surprised if something happens, alright?"

I sighed, my thoughts swirling. "Yeah, I won’t be… but I don’t know if I’m ready for any of that."

She leaned back against the headboard, her voice teasing but with a hint of sincerity. "Well, just keep your eyes open. It’s not every day a guy sticks around when you’re throwing up in your backyard."

I smiled, shaking my head. "You’re ridiculous."

Rukia just grinned, unfazed. "Maybe. But I’m also right. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you."

I stared at the ceiling for a moment, the conversation settling in my mind. Part of me wanted to brush it off, but another part of me couldn’t help but wonder if Rukia might be onto something.

The next day, I was sitting in class, trying to focus on the lecture about precedent and case law. But my mind kept drifting back to last night, specifically what Rukia had said about Renji. I couldn’t help but glance over at him during class, watching the way he took notes so intently, his jaw clenched in concentration. He looked like he was in his own world, which, honestly, he probably was. But there was a quiet intensity to him today, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Rukia might be right about something.

I quickly looked back to the front of the room when I felt my face heat up, hoping no one noticed me staring. But the feeling didn’t go away. My thoughts kept drifting back to Renji—his hand on my back, his concern as I was throwing up, the way he made sure I was okay. It wasn’t anything huge, nothing overt, but there was something about the way he acted that felt different than I expected.

Rukia, sitting next to me, nudged me with her elbow and gave me a smirk. I looked at her, and she raised an eyebrow, a silent question in her eyes.

"What?" I muttered, trying to act like I was paying attention to Professor Hange.

She glanced at Renji, then back at me, her voice low. "How’s your project going?"

I glanced at her, trying to keep my cool. "It’s fine. We’re making good progress. Just talking about the moral dilemma in our case."

Rukia leaned in a little closer, her voice still quiet but full of mischief. "Is it just me, or does Renji seem a little… different today?"

I froze for a second. "Different how?"

She leaned back, her gaze flicking to Renji. "I don’t know, maybe it’s just the way he’s been around you since last night. I don’t know. But I’m just saying, don’t be too surprised if things get a little more complicated than you’re expecting."

I let out a breath, frustrated but also curious. "Rukia, can we please just focus on the project?"

She grinned at me, clearly enjoying this. "Sure, sure. But don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Just then, Renji looked over at us, catching my eye for a moment. He seemed distant, almost like he was unsure of how to act. My stomach flipped. For a second, I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me because he had something to say or if he was just zoning out. The whole thing felt oddly intense, and my heart rate picked up.

Professor Hange started calling on groups, and I snapped back to reality, suddenly focused on the task at hand. It was our turn. Renji stood up, his usual air of calm confidence intact, but there was something else in the way he held himself today. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

I took a deep breath and glanced at Rukia, who was practically vibrating with excitement. "Okay," I whispered to her. "Let’s do this."

We stepped to the front of the class, ready to present our case. But as we spoke, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of Renji’s presence beside me, his quiet attention on me as I talked through the details of our project. There was something in the air—something that felt like the beginning of something complicated, whether I wanted it to be or not.

The presentation finishes, and a sense of disappointment settles in my chest. I can’t help but reflect on how it went, and how it didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped, especially with Renji. Sure, we got a solid 90%, but there was tension in the air, especially on his side. His answers felt stiff, and his usual confidence seemed almost forced. I tried not to show it, but I could feel the nerves bubbling up—nervous about how we did, nervous about what the professor thought, and especially nervous about the fact that I’ve always prided myself on getting the best scores. I work alone for a reason; it’s easier that way.

I quickly slide a note to Rukia, my hand trembling slightly as I scrawl down the words: “I’m going to try to talk to Renji by myself after class, so please don’t wait for me.” I look at her, and she raises an eyebrow, smirking like she knows exactly what’s going on. Her thumb goes up, and she winks at me, clearly excited by my decision to finally approach him. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s eager to see how this plays out, or because she’s just amused at the whole situation.

When class ends, Renji immediately stands up and walks away from the table without even looking at me. It’s like he’s in a rush to escape. I can’t let it slide this time—not with everything that’s been building up. My heart races as I quickly stand and follow him out of the classroom.

“Hey, Renji!” I call, my voice a little shaky as I catch up to him and tug on his sleeve.

He turns sharply, his eyes narrowing for a split second. But then his expression softens when he realizes it’s me. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes my stomach flip.

“What’s up?” he asks, his voice still a little guarded, like he’s bracing himself for something.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Are you okay? You seem off today.”

His eyes flicker to the side, and I can tell he’s debating whether to brush me off or actually talk. After a long pause, he exhales sharply and starts walking toward the small creek behind the college campus, not looking at me but clearly expecting me to follow.

I hesitate for a moment before walking alongside him, trying to keep up with his longer strides. We reach the creek, and he stops at the water’s edge, staring down at the flowing water with a tension in his shoulders that I can’t quite place. The air is cool, and there’s a calmness to the sound of the creek that contrasts with the weight of the moment.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, you know?” Renji’s voice is quieter than usual. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, and he kicks a small rock into the water. “About… everything.”

I watch him, trying to process what he’s saying. “Everything? What do you mean?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “I guess I’ve been holding this in for a while… and it’s stupid, but back in high school, I never had the guts to say anything. And I don’t even know why I’m bringing this up now, but…” He looks at me, his gaze serious, almost vulnerable, and my heart skips a beat.

“Renji…” I start, but he cuts me off.

“I liked you. A lot. Back in high school. And I didn’t know how to tell you.” He looks away, like he’s embarrassed, but there’s a quiet sincerity in his eyes. “I just—I never thought you’d even notice me, you know? You always had it together. And I was just that guy. The one nobody really paid attention to. But I watched you. I always did.”

I stand there in stunned silence, my mind racing. I never realized—never even considered that Renji might have felt that way. It’s like everything falls into place, all the little moments I brushed off as nothing suddenly making sense in this one confession.

“You liked me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I don’t know why it surprises me so much, but it does. I thought I had him figured out. I thought he was just the brooding guy who didn’t care about anything, certainly not me.

“Yeah,” Renji says softly, running a hand through his hair. “I just never thought I had a shot. And now here we are, working together, and I don’t know… it just feels like the right time to say it.”

There’s a long pause, and I can feel the weight of the air between us. I don’t know what to say. My thoughts are a jumble. I’ve always known Renji as the guy who kept to himself, the one who didn’t show much emotion. But hearing this—this part of him that I never knew—makes my chest tighten.

“I had no idea,” I finally manage to say, my voice softer now. “You never let on.”

Renji looks at me, his gaze intense but vulnerable. “I never thought it mattered, not with everything else going on. And now it feels weird, like I’m just dumping this on you. But I needed to get it out.”

I swallow, my emotions a mix of surprise, confusion, and something else I can’t quite place. “Renji, I—I don’t know what to say. I never thought… you’d feel like that.”

He shrugs, looking down at the water again. “It’s okay. I don’t expect anything from you. I just needed you to know. I’ve been holding this in for too long, and I don’t want to keep pretending I’m some guy who doesn’t care.”

We stand there for a while, the quiet of the creek filling the space between us. I don’t know what comes next, but I know one thing for sure—this conversation, this moment, has changed everything.

The moment still hangs between us, a quiet weight that lingers in the air like morning fog. Renji's confession, raw and vulnerable, is something I wasn’t prepared for, but it’s also something I can’t shake. My heart beats louder than I want it to, and I take a deep breath before speaking, needing to break the silence.

“Well, thank you,” I say gently, my voice sincere. “Thank you for being open with me. I know it’s never easy to admit your feelings, especially when you’re not sure how the other person will take it. That takes a lot.”

Renji nods slightly, but doesn’t meet my gaze. His eyes remain fixed on the water, like it’s easier to talk to the creek than to me. I shift on my feet, feeling the weight of this conversation pressing in on me.

“And…” I continue, my voice lowering, “I’m sorry I never noticed you back in high school. I wasn’t trying to ignore you. I just—I was too focused on grades, on being the best. I didn’t want to date. I wasn’t really interested in anyone. Honestly, I don’t even remember much about high school. It wasn’t a great time for me either.”

Renji finally looks at me then, and I can see something flicker in his eyes, a softness I’m not used to. It’s like I’m seeing him for the first time, really seeing him.

“I do appreciate that you think I have everything together,” I say, offering him a small smile. “Because I try. I really do. But most of the time, I feel like I’m drowning in stress I create for myself. I put so much pressure on doing everything perfectly that I forget to breathe.”

He looks at me now—fully. And there’s something in his expression, some kind of recognition, like we’ve both been burning quietly under the surface for too long.

“But,” I say, taking a careful step closer to him, “even if I didn’t notice you then, I notice you now. I don’t think you’re a guy who doesn’t care. I think you’re just… selective. Careful with who you give your energy to. You’re guarded. And that’s okay.”

Renji swallows, his jaw tightening as if he’s holding something back. I let the silence stretch for a moment before gently asking, “But what made you that way? Why do you get so defensive?”

He exhales slowly, his hands tightening in his jacket pockets. For a moment, I think he won’t answer. But then his voice comes, quiet but steady.

“I guess I learned early not to expect people to stick around,” he says. “My mom left when I was twelve. Didn’t even say goodbye. One day, she was just gone. My dad was around but checked out—worked too much, drank more than he worked. I basically raised myself. Got in fights a lot. Stopped talking much. Stopped trusting people.”

My heart tightens at his words. It’s hard to imagine him like that, the Renji I know, this tough guy who’s always been around, with such a lonely past. I bite my lip, letting him continue.

“And when I did trust people—friends, girls, whatever—they’d flake. Or lie. Or only stick around when it was convenient. So I stopped showing how much I cared. Started acting like I didn’t. It was easier that way. People can’t hurt you if you act like you don’t give a fuck.”

I don’t interrupt him. I just listen, my heart aching for him. I don’t know how long we stand there, the sound of the creek filling the space, but it feels like time itself is slowing down.

“Then college came around. New start, right?” He laughs, but it’s bitter, without any humor. “Except I still felt like I was just passing through. Then we got paired up. You… you treated me like I mattered. Like I had something to say. It threw me off.”

I’m silent for a long time. The weight of his confession settles over me, and I realize I’ve never really understood Renji before today. I’ve always seen him as the tough guy, the one who doesn’t care, but now I see there’s so much more beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “For everything you went through. For not noticing back then. For not knowing now, until today.”

He shakes his head, not looking at me. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… I didn’t expect to care this much. About this project. About how you see me. But I do. And that scares the hell out of me.”

I step closer, placing my hand gently on his arm, grounding both of us in the moment. The contact is brief but meaningful, and I feel the pulse of something—something honest, something real.

“I see you now, Renji,” I whisper. “I really do.”

For the first time since we started this conversation, he looks at me with nothing to hide. His eyes are open, raw, and vulnerable. And in that moment, everything shifts between us. Quietly, undeniably. Something that might change everything.

My heart flutters under the weight of his gaze, and instinctively, I turn my head away, trying to calm the warmth that spreads across my face. But I steady myself, and when I speak, my voice is quiet but firm.

“I promise I won’t leave. And I won’t hurt you.”

When I look back at him, I see his ears have turned a faint shade of red. He’s caught off guard by my words, but then he smiles—softly, almost shyly. It’s a smile that feels like it’s just for me, and I can’t help but smile back.

I reach for his hand. His fingers are warm, large, rough, the kind that could easily span the width of my shoulder. I cradle his hand in both of mine, my thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles along his skin. It feels like a quiet promise between us, something that might grow into something more. Something steady.

For a moment, the air between us is calm, the tension replaced by something lighter, something more sincere.

“Let’s start over. As friends,” I say softly. “You don’t need to rush anything. Time is on our side.”

Renji’s posture shifts, relaxing in a way that I’ve never seen before. It’s like a weight has lifted from him, even if just a little. The walls he’s spent so long building seem to have cracked, even if just a bit. I can’t help but blush, overwhelmed by how tender the moment feels.

He reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his voice low. “Okay.”

But then, just as easily as he’s opened up, Renji clears his throat, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We should head back up. Pretty sure this area’s restricted. We could get arrested.”

My eyes widen. “Wait, what? Seriously?”

Renji laughs, the sound warm and teasing. “Kidding. Mostly.”

I swat his arm lightly as we start walking back toward the lot, the tension between us replaced with something lighter, something real. Something that, maybe, can last.

As we near the parking lot, he glances at me from the corner of his eye. “By the way… I like the way you cut your hair. It suits you. Makes you look professional. And pretty.”

My face flushes, the compliment hitting somewhere deep in my chest. “Thank you,” I murmur, smiling softly.

He walks me the rest of the way to my car, and as I fumble for my keys, I notice a familiar vehicle pulling in beside mine Nanami’s.

And just like that, the night shifts again.

Nanami steps out of his car just as I’m about to unlock mine. He’s calm, composed, as always, but something’s different. There’s an edge to him tonight, an intensity that wasn’t there earlier.

“I didn’t see you after class,” he says, his tone even but slightly clipped. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Before I can respond, his eyes flick to Renji standing beside me. The air tightens, like the space between us thickens in response to his attention. Nanami nods at him, offering a quick, half-hearted dap. Renji returns it with a casual “Later,” then glances back at me.

“Get home safe, yeah?” Renji says, his voice a little softer than usual.

“You too,” I reply, and Nanami mutters the same under his breath just before Renji heads off into the night.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Nanami turns back to me. “Is there something going on between you and Renji?”

His voice isn’t accusing, but there’s something in it—a hint of suspicion, maybe, or maybe just the edge of something deeper. I blink, caught off guard by the question.

“Why does it matter?” I ask, sharper than I intended. “Why are you suddenly questioning my relationship with him?”

Nanami doesn’t flinch. He just leans back slightly against my car, arms crossed, staring at me like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. His gaze is unwavering, too knowing. It’s like he can see right through me.

“Y/L,” he says quietly, voice low and serious, “don’t tell me you’re this blind.”

I freeze. “What are you talking about?”

He sighs, a deep, frustrated breath, and then, without warning, takes off his glasses.

That’s when I know something’s different. Nanami never takes off his glasses unless it’s serious—unless he’s letting his guard down.

“You really don’t know?” he says, his eyes meeting mine without a single flicker of hesitation. “Y/L, I’ve liked you for a while now.”

I just stand there, stunned, the world suddenly too loud around me. The quiet hum of the street, the leftover heat from the day—all of it fades into a buzzing, static noise in my ears. My heart races.

Are you serious?

That’s all I can think. This can’t be real. This feels like a fanfic someone else wrote, and forgot to warn me about.

And I’m the main character—completely unprepared for this plot twist.

[hajihiko]

ok this is gonna sound really weird but were the ppl like,,,, conscious???? when they got taken over?? idk how to word it,, like,,,,,, did they know i guess??? srry if i missed smth lol

i left it ambiguous on purpose!

[sukunasweetheart]

hear me out on bully!sukuna okay...

warnings; highschool setting, DUBCON, dry humping, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, sex in a confined space, semi-public sex, breeding, sukuna is kinda mean but is a simp at the same time, groping, cum in panties, just lots and lots of cum, "just the tip" he lied, mentions of pregnancy risk, ?cheating, sukuna the toxic tsundere but is horrendously down bad and perverted, eventual or mildly submissive sukuna?, this isn't gonna be the healthiest relationship - but its to be expected tho bc its a bully fic so..

Word count; 5.5k

bully!sukuna bothers you because he has a weird complex with you - preferring to be outright hated by you rather than deal with indifference or facing possible rejection.

it's often teetering on the edge of actual bullying; his existence is more of a nuisance than a serious distress to you.

he often loves getting on your nerves by tripping you up with his foot, only to catch you himself, or he purposefully bumps into you in the hallways making you almost topple over - like the fucking asshole he is. and you'll never forget the time you happened to get paired up with him on an assignment and the bastard had the audacity to try and take you both down by not doing his part. in exchange for his participation, he had you carry his bag for him around school for a week...

and he only gets more thrilled the more you fight back or retaliate.

sukuna likes to call you names, often using very condescending and colourful insults against you. and he likes to harass and chase off any potential boyfriends that come your way. that last one pisses you off the most. you want a boyfriend so bad, and that bastard is being such a huge cockblock. god forbid a girl wants to get laid. all your friends have had their first times already - why can't you?!

and he's back at it again too, after finding out that another guy confessed to you at school today. you accepted it. obviously when he wasn't watching. for a damn reason.

he finds out your last class was P.E today and you find yourself cornered in the locker room, empty of girls except for you. you ended up lagging behind as you were texting your new boyfriend over your phone after class. you try to walk past him to go home, but he traps you against your own locker.

you end up snapping back at him, having had enough of it.

"what is wrong with you? you know what? i think you're obsessed with me!" you shout back, shoving at his chest.

"who do you think you are, to stop me from getting a boyfriend... what, do you like me or something?" you speak without thinking, in a fit of anger.

"i bet you do! i bet you go home every night and jerk off to daydreams of me. is that right?" you go off, pushing every button you can.

sukuna falls silent. you expect him to argue back, to deny all your claims fiercely, and then go storming off, having heard enough of your nonsense.

but he's glaring at you, tight lipped, ears and cheeks turning bright red.

"...why're you silent all of a sudden? say something..." you continue awkwardly. "don't tell me... you actually...?"

"shut up," he hisses at you. "just shut up, for a second."

he wears an expression you've never seen on him before, and seems to be thinking about what to say next. he looks as though he wants to say something.

you open your mouth to tell him 'nevermind', but the sound of a small group of girls approaching the locker room is audible, which interrupts the both of you, and you panic. just what kind of rumours would spur on if they caught you and sukuna like this in here? you only just got your first boyfriend, there's no way you're gonna let this bastard ruin that for you!

thinking quickly, you open up your locker and roughly push sukuna inside, and then jump in after him. you shut the locker door quietly and peek outside through the little gaps at the top. the girls come in, having come back to get something that they left behind. what terrible timing.

one of the girls walk up a little close to your liking and you end up moving your body back as far as you can, your back pressing up against sukuna without thinking. and then you're startled by the low and quiet groan you hear behind you.

whipping around, you see sukuna with clouded eyes and a tightened jaw, barely able to fit inside this narrow locker. but he doesn't find it in himself to feel uncomfortable or annoyed at the situation.

after all, your ass is pressed up tightly against his growing bulge right then and there.

you were right about what you'd said earlier. he'd always daydreamed of a moment like this, pumping his cock at the thought of doing lewd things with you...

you turn back to the front, panicked. what the fuck? why does he look... like that?

kinda hot...

shaking your head, you try to ignore your beating heart, praying that the girls exit the locker room soon so that you can quickly escape from this situation.

meanwhile, sukuna's hands struggle to keep away from you as his brain begins to short circuit, dick helplessly twitching in his pants, chest heaving but it being of no help - as the locker fills with the scent of you in it, the sweetness of your shampoo and perfume, making his heart pump harder.

you slowly shuffle forward a little, trying not to lean against him so much. when are these girls leaving... you think to yourself. they've started gossiping amongst themselves, sitting on the bench. goddamn it!

large hands fall onto your hips and pull you back toward him. you feel him grinding his crotch against your ass, and you know that whatever is poking you is definitely his fucking boner.

"what the fuck, sukuna? s-stop," you whisper to him as quietly as you can.

sukuna has stopped his thinking in itself entirely. whatever's making him act right now is nothing but his pure and selfish desires. there's no way he can resist you when you're the one who climbed inside your own locker with him. he needs to relieve his ache somehow.

he gets more and more handsy with you as each minute passes. his large hand snakes up to fondle your clothed tits as he continues to discreetly dry hump your ass.

you should be disgusted. you should jump out right now and snitch on him and call him a molester right in front of these girls.

but good god, this feels like... nothing you've felt before. his wandering hands. his immense horniness. this tight enclosed space. the size of his boner. it's all making you excited in a weird way, and you're starting to feel aroused at your core.

sukuna is doing his best to get some pleasure from this minimal friction he's getting inside his tight space, but it's not enough. the desperation and arousal claws at him, his dick hurting from how tightly it's sitting in his pants. he swallows on nothing.

fuck it. he's already started. why hold back now?

you feel a shift behind you and the sound of fabric and a zipper being undone. is he...?

you gasp softly when something hot and hard gets pushed between your thighs. it's... it's pulsing. you can't believe this is happening. with sukuna, out of all people? should you be mortified or intrigued? you fear that the latter might be truer.

there's ringing in his ears. not a single logical thought is occupying his brain as he thinks purely with his dick at the moment, having waited so long for a moment like this. fuck, he's so hard. and it only excites him more that you haven't leapt out of this locker yet, running away from him. even though you could. his heart is on the verge of beating it's way up to his throat.

small, shallow thrusts. you feel his heavy cock rub up against your inner thighs, and both of his large hands are now groping your clothed breasts lewdly. he unbuttons your blouse, and then messily pulls down your bra, as he's desperate to feel the real thing, and you can't muster the strength to swat him away. when his fingertips tease your nipples, you have to stop yourself from making any noise. you've always wanted someone to touch you there...

never did you know that someone would be sukuna. you grab his wrist in a fit of desperation.

"you're a fucking pervert... what the hell are you doing?" you tell him a tad bit loudly, trying to deny the heat in your cunt.

"... did you guys hear something?" one of the girls suddenly ask outside.

your heart drops to your stomach as this sets off a panic inside you again. a big, warm hand clasps over your mouth, shushing you effectively.

"quiet..." he mumbles into the shell of your ear, and it weakens your knees. it never occurred to you that he's always had an attractive voice. a wave of goosebumps wash over your skin.

you look down. you can get a tiny peek of his tip whenever he thrusts in... it's so fucking big. you can't possibly fit that inside you, could you? when you catch that it's glistening with precum, your pussy squeezes around nothing.

one hand still over your mouth and the other teasing your tits, sukuna is busy slowly chasing an orgasm, regardless of the girls that have gotten a little wary outside. they soon forget about it and continue their pointless chatter.

fuck... his cock is so close to your cunt. the thought of it makes him shudder. he's almost there.

your hands are semi-clawing at his hand that's still against your mouth, when you suddenly feel him cease the incessant groping at your breasts. instead, it goes under your skirt - a finger loosening your panties up to fit his fat cock beneath the flimsy fabric.

there it is. your bareback fuckin' pussy. he has to bite his own lip to hold off groaning out loud. he does his best to slide his dick in and out against your slit - being restricted in movement due to the tight space, but make doing somehow.

you're actually thankful for his hand covering your mouth up, as you would've definitely moaned out loud if it weren't for him. it's unreal how turned on you are right now. does he feel it? all the slick pouring out of you? it's so, so strange. you were so sure that you didn't want this with him before, but not anymore...

it grazes over your clit over and over, painfully teasing, and you need to orgasm so badly.

sukuna jolts his hips against you, giving a final short thrust as his tip catches the fabric of your panties - he presses his own face against your neck to effectively silence himself as he reaches his first high.

you shudder as his dick pulsates between your thighs so strongly, making a hot mess in your underwear, cum spilling out in thick ropes - you feel the heat of it on your poor cunt, and you shiver as sukuna inhales deeply against your neck, his breathing wavering, dick aching for more even as it continues to spill heavily, creaming your panties. his tongue licks a stripe up your neck, causing you to shiver.

it's a pleasure that's greater than he could've ever given himself alone. but he wants more. he needs more.

you're in the middle of trying to gather yourself again, but you again, feel him moving his hips. just what is he up to now...?

your eyes widen when you catch onto how he's trying to thrust himself inside you now. there's no way... you struggle against him but he holds you still - mouth still firmly silenced by his palm.

the best he can do is have the tip inside. but for now, it's enough. he doesn't care - as long as he can get whatever pleasure that's available...

"j-just the tip..." he whispers with the smallest voice he can manage, against your ear again. it turns you on so good.

you can't help but enjoy when he gropes at your chest again, his tip bullying it's way in your desperate and wet hole, popping in and out, in and out, in and out.

even with just the tip, you're about to lose your mind. you want more, but at the same time you're scared what'll happen to your mind if he shoves that whole thing inside you.

sukuna's brain is yet again short circuiting as he dips the tip of his cock into your hot and slippery cunt - making him feral and desperate to get deeper. yet, what's stopping him is this confined space that suffocates him. there isn't enough oxygen for both of you here, and he wonders whether it's you or the lack of oxygen that's making him endlessly breathless.

oh, he's close again.

he's going to cum again, but this time inside. you want to protest, but you've always wondered... does it feel good to have it spill inside? regardless, you still try to struggle against him purely because you don't like the thought of sukuna knowing that you're enjoying this. even though it's already too late.

he holds you so tightly against him - before letting himself loose once again - tip poking into your pussy as he pumps inside, balls clenching. your hole is welcoming, and it puckers around him mind numbingly, milking his heavy cock for everything he has. you feel the warmth of his seed reaching inside you but not very deep - most of it trickles back out onto your panties. he twitches against you harder and more intensely, hips shoving into you messily.

you're both out of breath...

...and that's when both of you hear the girls leaving the locker room with muffled laughter, successfully avoided noticing you and him inside.

they turn the lights off before they leave, and the locker room turns dark and silent. you're now sweating against sukuna - and the moment you feel his hands loosen against you, you push the locker door open and step outside, unsure of what exactly you're trying to run from. sukuna himself? or the fact that you might be forming some kind of attraction to him? to the way he treats you?

but alas, no matter how fast you think you are, you could never beat sukuna's reflexes. in that quick momentum, he's pursued you outside and grabbed your arm - before pulling you back and shoving you against the now closed locker door.

"where do you think you're going?" he asks with a deep and low voice, vein popping on his forehead and looking desperate and an intense blush being permeated on his face. why is it that it's always made you feel so squirmy, whenever he cornered you like this? the size difference, the strength difference... the pervert here is not only him, it seems.

your needy gaze flutters from his eyes down to his exposed cock. it's veiny, throbbing, and leaking messily. it looks heavy and most importantly... it's so fucking big.

in the blink of an eye, sukuna has hiked your legs up, holding you up against the lockers, making it so that you cannot run from him again. it's game over.

"having the nerve to try and run after seducing me with your ass..." sukuna mutters angrily, lining his dick above your cunt and tummy, showing off how deep it'll reach if he slid it inside.

"no- i didn't..." you protest weakly, heart hammering with excitement. "idiot... let me down."

you tell him, despite your arms that loop around his neck.

"your voice is lacking it's usual sharpness," sukuna tells you breathlessly, flipping your skirt up and pushing your panties aside. it's still wet with his previous loads. oh- he can't think straight.

"wait-! something that big won't fucking fit!" you tell him, only now the fear beginning to hit you. moreover, you're afraid he'll end up breaking you and stop all rational thinking - this is dangerous.

"it will. i'll mould the shape of your insides to my fuckin' cock," sukuna insists, eyes focused on your wet glistening pussy. so pretty.

he pushes it in. but he doesn't stop there. he pushes it in all the way. balls fucking deep.

your eyes widen and when he thrusts the whole thing in one go, you well and truly break. legs trembling, pleasure washes over you and you cry out a moan.

"fuck-! did you just cum? are you cumming?" sukuna asks, panting, slowly sliding himself in and out as your cunt spasms around him. soon enough, he speeds it up and makes sure his tip is bullying your cervix with each deep thrust, eyes rolling back as your walls welcome him so warmly and clamp down on him.

"haah- haah- mm, fuck! you're so fuckin' tight! ugh, 'm gonna bust again," he slurs messily, hips moving non-stop. the unkempt bush of his pubic hair gives friction against you adding onto your strange sensations of pleasure. drool begins to roll out from the corner of your mouth.

his balls have never felt heavier as they slap against your wet ass each time he slams his cock inside, slick pooling out of you and creating droplets on the floor. he has a lot to give you... and your cunt is being so agreeable, the way it sucks on him, warm and wet. it's turning him animalistic, no thoughts running inside his brain except to fucking breed this hole. breed you.

not inside... not inside... you think, not realising that you're not saying it out loud.

"i'm gonna do it inside. i'm gonna-!" he hisses, hips stuttering at the last second.

"ugh- shit! 'm c-cumming... fuuck... fuck!" sukuna cusses deeply, thighs trembling as he continues giving tiny, but sharp thrusts even as he's spilling into you while buried to the hilt.

it's hot. you can feel that it's thick. there's so much. even more than his two previous loads. sukuna's face being twisted in pleasure puts you in awe - and you unknowingly tighten your pussy around him as he orgasms inside, joined to you hip-to-hip.

he's never felt such a deep seated pleasure in him before. he continues to gasp and shudder with every stringy spurt that he knows is reaching your womb. what if he actually knocks you up? what if his seed takes? it's a scary but thrilling thought. the thought of you swollen with his baby... all rational thinking has been thrown out the window due to this pleasure.

sounds that you never could've imagined coming out of sukuna continue to spill from his lips... he slides his cock in and out and squeezes every last drop out of himself, and he suddenly brings his lips to yours, kissing you feverishly. both of you pant over each other while making out messily as he slowly begins to thrust into you over and over again. he's going to get addicted to this. he's going to crave your pussy everyday from now on.

sukuna sucks on your tongue like he wants to swallow it. your arms hold onto him for dear life.

all too suddenly, he brings you off the locker, arms hooked under your legs and palms supporting you by holding onto your ass cheeks.

the kiss breaks, and catch sight of sukuna's lust-filled eyes as he moves you up and down his cock using his monster-like strength. and you're held up by him like this, you can't do anything to stop him. just cling onto him and take what he gives you.

"f-fuck, sukuna... ooh-! t-too deep," you mumble with tears in your eyes, gasping from the way his tip kisses your womb effortlessly. he's seriously too big for his own good.

"keep saying my name like that- it'll only make my dick harder," he pants, continuing to use your pussy like a fleshlight. his thick load has made it even wetter. he can feel your slick beginning to cream up around the base of his cock now, and it makes his chest well up with something like pride. does he turn you on that good? this hole of yours refuses to run out of lube.

the absurdly obscene plap plap plap sound of flesh against flesh, makes for the lewdest echo in the locker room. that, paired with the mild darkness, and the possibility of being seen by someone coming in during after-school hours, makes for the perfect thrilling atmosphere for such feral sex.

it's driving you mad. the echoing, the subtle anxiety, the smell of his sweat.

it's marvelous...

another orgasm hits you like a bullet train. gasping, you whimper as he continues fucking you through it this time, relentlessly thrusting into you regardless of your pulsing walls.

"shit... your cunt's clinging to me," sukuna groans, feeling blessed to see you get undone by him, by his cock. the fingertips of his large hands against your ass sink deeper, the pleasurable knot in his stomach getting tighter once again.

"you and your uselessly big dick... fuck you," you chide breathlessly, doing your best to keep your sentences clear even as he plunges into you with an unforgiving pace.

"clearly not useless when it's made you cum twice now, right?"

"shut up-"

you get cut off when he begins to thrust faster, as you witness the very moment sukuna's eyes become blank with pleasure, getting ready to empty his balls again.

"slutty fuckin' cunt. latching onto me so greedily... can't stop- thrusting-" he mumbles, gripping onto your ass tighter.

you can't help but sigh with pleasure when he begins to fill you up again, twitching and pulsing like crazy inside you as he spills so much seed like he's peeing.

"ohh, shit... cumming s-so hard..." he breathes out shakily.

you're starting to feel full. but you get the feeling that this still isn't the last one. desperate kisses are pressed against the side of your neck as he takes some time to relax a little again, thoroughly finishing deep into you, hips jolting every now and then.

he carries you over to the bench in the middle of the room, where he lies you down and brings your knees closer to your chest, fully exposing your cunt to him, whole. his dick still squeezed into you.

with a hoarse shaky groan, he slowly drags his thick cock in and out of you in this position, with only the heavens knowing how he is still hard after so many orgasms.

you give a small yelp as he speeds up - your plush walls embracing him warmly and filling up his balls once more. god, he doesn't think he'll ever have enough of this pussy. of you.

"idiot! e-enough.. take it out... i'll get- pregnant-" you warn him not-so-convincingly, with gasping moans between each word.

"c-can't... you're... sucking me in so good... can't stop-" sukuna replies with no thoughts in his brain other than to relieve the throb in his erection again. it's driving him up a wall, too. the flesh of your ass that softens the impact everytime he drives his hips into you. your squeals and whines of euphoria. your exposed breasts and glistening clit. he burns every detail into his brain, to make sure he remembers forever...

he doesn't even know what number round this is, but it amazes even him how he feels like he's already edging close to another climax. it's pathetic and ridiculous of him. but he can't help the fact that you push him over so easily.

the number of tissues he'd run through just from jerking off every time he thought about you all night... you have no clue.

recalling those moments makes him feel even more determined to chase this final orgasm even more rigorously. it won't be difficult, not with how your cunt swallows him up so nice.

"fuck.... i- i like you. i've always liked you..." sukuna mumbles out the sudden confession slowly.

"stupid... bastard... you say this now...?" you say as you sigh in pleasure, almost being close to your own climax as well, this position setting off yet another deep arousal in you. after all that bickering and tormenting - he has the audacity to confess to you? only after cumming inside multiple times?

"can't give any excuses can i?" he voices with a curt laugh - finding himself to be pitiful in this moment as well.

"but it's true... i- fuck- i like you so much..." he groans, hips getting faster.

your eyes begin to blur with tears again... sukuna thumbs your clit gently... and then you arch your back with a gasping squeal. sukuna too, hisses as he pumps you full for a final time, letting his dick drain itself in your fluttering hole, hips and thighs jerking uncontrollably while his tip leaks spurt after spurt through your cervix, overflowing you to the maximum.

after dumping his final load, he slowly drags his large, twitching cock out of you with a pop and lets it rest against your gaping cunt, pulsing weakly against your clit. his thumb pushes your panty lining aside to keep your pussy exposed for him to see. your hole is still gaping and thrumming, as if missing him already and he's watching with awe as big globs of his spend trickle out of you thickly. if he wasn't so exhausted, the sight of this would've made him hard again.

sukuna lets go of you and lets your legs rest on the bench, as you're still panting from the exertion, mind numb from that last orgasm. he seems to loom over you for a second, before leaning down, arms caging you against the bench, knee between your legs, to kiss you on your glossy lips. it feels good, but you wouldn't want to admit that out loud to him.

"i like you." he repeats again, after breaking away from you. he wonders why it had taken him so long to admit this fact. once he got it out, it became an easy thing to say. you look at his face and he looks so pathetic in your eyes, the usual look of cockiness and mischief being wiped away. he says it as if he's pleading you, and you know what he's asking for, what he's unable to say out loud. he probably wants to be your boyfriend.

it's strange to see the puppy eyes of your literal arch nemesis, and it's also strange to hear his voice give you a love confession. it makes you mad. it makes you angry. not because you hate it, but because you don't hate it.

he sees it. he sees the instant your eyes glint with anger, and he very swiftly dodges the head butt you try to give him at the very last second.

"move, idiot," you say sharply, glaring at him.

alright, he probably deserved that one.

you stand up and fix your bra and blouse before gathering your things from the locker before leaving without another word - sukuna follows you outside in a fit of mild anxiousness.

"hey-"

"you. take responsibility and buy me some plan b pills. and a pregnancy test kit," you interrupt, looking back at him.

"...alright," he responds rather obediently, after a nervous swallow.

after you turn back around to continue walking, the tiniest smile grows on your face... sukuna looking nervous is something you never thought you'd see. maybe you can use this to your advantage.

your phone vibrates in your hand. it's from your new 'boyfriend'. a sweet message saying he's excited to see you again tomorrow. you delete the notification with a little bit of guilt on your mind. you'll leave tomorrow's issues for tomorrow.

in front of the chemist, you languidly stand around outside waiting as sukuna does as you'd asked him. truth be told, it was because you didn't want to buy them yourself, out of embarrassment. you know he doesn't care about how people sees him, so no harm done there.

when he comes back out with the bag, he holds it out to hand it over to you. but when you try to grab it, he lifts it away.

"you're gonna break up with him, right?" he suddenly asks, with a rather serious expression on his face.

you ignore the question and try to grab the bag, but he avoids you again.

"...right?" he emphasises. he doesn't intimidate you at all anymore, not after knowing about his feelings for you.

"it's none of your business?" you tell him, finally snatching the bag. he doesn't look too pleased about that answer. you take the pills quietly and shove the rest into your bag.

"okay. now go home," you shoo at him. "i'm tired."

"you haven't answered me yet," he says firmly, holding onto your wrist.

"you'll have your answer tomorrow," you reply in an exasperated tone, shaking off his grip.

"and just letting you know. if it turns out positive, i'm never speaking to you again," you warn him with a deadpan face. in the back of your mind, you're pretty anxious about it, but you know according to your cycle, today wasn't a fertile day. that, and with the pill... it should be alright.

sukuna stiffens up and opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it again.

"and don't follow me. if you do, i'll also never speak to you again."

you're not that serious about not talking to him ever again, but you believe he deserves to feel as anxious as you do.

"... i wasn't planning on stalking you anyway. jesus," sukuna mutters, kicking at the dirt on the ground.

you narrow your eyes at him, and then continue your way home.

he scratches the back of his head in frustration. it's like he's skipped a lot of steps towards you and it's coming back to bite him in the ass. ah, well. nothing he can do about it now.

sukuna starts praying that the test comes out as negative.

-

in the end, you decided to become the asshole and just break up with the guy over text. what was there to even really 'break up' anyway? it was for less than a day...

regardless, the news seems to run across the entire school and your friends begin to pester you about why. you can't tell them the truth. what could you even say? 'oh, i got railed good by the one guy i despised in school and it made me end up changing my mind'? fuck that.

he walks towards you after school with seemingly high spirits.

"so... i heard you broke it off after all," he approaches you after hearing the good news. you'd been ignoring him all day, but he's hoping you'll stop once the day was over and there was no one else around to watch them.

you continue to give him the silent treatment, walking along without sparing him a glance.

"hey," he grabs your forearm to stop you from walking.

"stop ignoring me. please."

you only spare him a glance because he added 'please'.

"...i don't see how that changes anything between us," you finally respond.

"right. surely not," he responds, voice thick with sarcasm.

"is that the correct attitude you should be taking? i broke up with him because i felt bad i fucked someone else while we were together. not because i like you back," you shoot at him, crossing your arms.

"oh, give me a break. you were barely with him for one day-"

"sukuna. do you want me to like you back?"

sukuna falls silent, looking at you with annoyance yet also simultaneous desire.

"if you want me to like you... then you need to work for it. make up for all the mean things you've said and done to me."

"...how? what should i do?" he asks, daringly, stepping forward towards you.

you wordlessly take your bag and shove it against his chest with an aloof expression on your features. it startles him for a moment, but looking at your face, he understands what you're asking of him. he slowly smirks and slings your bag over his shoulder, on top of his own.

"easy. anything else?"

"...i'm kinda hungry. take me somewhere good to eat. you pay."

"so... a date?" sukuna hums teasingly, trying to hold your hand.

"nope. you're gonna act as my lackey for a few weeks. it's payback. after that... well, we'll see," you say as you dodge his hand.

he can't wipe the smile off his face. you're clearly playing around with him, but he doesn't hate it. it's another form of attention, is it not? he'll have plenty of chances to make you his from now.

little does he know... he's the one that will become yours in the end.

you know the drill! dot points bc im lazy as fuck!!

okay well, first off the test does turn out negative, lucky for him... from then on you make him wear condoms whenever you have sex

but before that, he spends a few weeks running around to try and appease you

everybody shocked to see the big bad bully is being so obedient, and little do they know...

mmmaybe you give him little rewards every now and then, some sneaky kisses or so, just to keep him afloat... and then you withhold your body from him again

still carries your bag for you everywhere

has to deal with the frustration of not having boyfriend privileges yet... always itching to touch you but you wont allow it until you think he deserves it

sitting between his legs but not letting him be handsy with you is torture. maybe he'll break the rules a bit and hug your waist anyway

love the thought of him borderline begging for your touch because he's so hard from spending so much time being so close with you and it's been well over three weeks since he's done anything remotely sexual with you

maybe you'll feel a little turned on by his pleading that you cave in a bit, and take him to the public restrooms for a few handjobs

he will take anything he can, the opportunist...

and you'll have plenty of fun edging and toying with sukuna until he's shaped nicely into being a good obedient boyfriend for you

bully sukuna trope was inspired and set alight by @gojos-thot-patrol btw, link to his fic here... mine took a completely different path but it was a similar concept in the end ✨️👌

Masterlist

[solvisun]

011925. cw | slightly suggestive (?) i hate him (affectionate)

if tsukishima kei learns the full extent of you losing your mind over the minuscule of things with everything he does,

babe, you’re done for.

if he learns that removing his glasses while kissing you makes your stomach do saumersaults, or when he fixes your clothes casually; smoothing down your skirt or adjusting your shirt, hand on your waist. or when he cups your face and squeezes both of your cheeks together, when it shows that he loves the physical touch in ways that feel crude if you say it aloud. in ways that no one else can speak about, makes you so mushy with him. to the point that it makes you sick, head throbbing.

if he learns that you find his jealousy kind of attractive, all cutting and ruthless, snappy. that you're totally not weak in the knees. if he learns that whenever he leans in whenever you speak is the cause of why you feel flustered, when he hums softly in question, tilting his head, or when he just hook you in his arms to get closer.

god. he will take absolute pleasure in pushing those buttons even more—actually, he’d press them with the precision of someone who knows exactly how far he can go to leave you reeling, all while pretending it’s no big deal.

and this is exactly what happens, as expected, but no less frustrated.

when he realizes how much removing his glasses during a kiss messes you up, he’d start doing it slow and methodical, taking his time to set them aside while giving you that piercing look, like he knows exactly what’s coming next. “what, nervous?” he’d ask, leaning in just a fraction, his tone laced with mockery, but his lips soft when they finally meet yours.

those casual touches? forget it. his hands—though he would ask first—roam your body and let them linger around your waist dangerously longer than necessary, you're not making it up now, you know you feel the slight squeezes his does on your skin, letting his fingers graze, just enough to send shivers down your spine.

when he holds your face in one hand, there’s something about how his thumb lingers near your jawline or how he leans in just a little too close. it’s playful, sure, but there’s a tenderness beneath it that leaves you spinning. because he knows. he knows all too well.

it's game over when he finally does this—one arm braced above your head, his whole figure towering over you, casting a shadow which makes him look ten times more insufferable. you cannot breathe.

his lips hover just shy of yours, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. “do i really make you that nervous?”

"fuck off."

"really? that’s all you’ve got? how original.”

“kei, i swear to—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as his thumb brushes the curve of your jaw, the touch barely there but devastating all the same.

“what? gonna tell me to stop?” the glint in his eyes turns playful, pupils dilated, “you’re all talk, aren’t you?”

your hands twitch at your sides, torn between shoving him away and pulling him closer. “i hate you,” you hiss, but it lacks any real bite.

“sure you do,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery, and then—because of course he does—he closes the infinitesimal gap between you, his lips brushing against yours with infuriating slowness.

he kisses you chastely. it feels so wrong with how he already built so much tension. that this all just a stupid game he can easily control.

there’s a distinct edge of smugness to it, like he’s savoring every second of your undoing. when he pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, the smirk is still there, lingering at the corners of his mouth.

“still want me to fuck off?” he asks, though he already knows the answer to it.

you can only scoff and roughly smack your lips against his in a solid, and very straightforward reply. your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else.

he relents to you just as easily, this is why he simply can't get enough of you.

my stupid writers block is not making me write properly for the hershey’s kisses mini series so i had to pull this stupid drabble outta my sick ass (coughing loudly as we speak)

[11cupids-tarot11]

★Your Future Spouse's Favorite Thing About Sex With Y♡U★

1 -> 3 ꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡

Cupid's Master-List

Cupid's YouTube Channel

My Kofi shop ♡ tips are appreciated, thank you guys so much!! Ily >< I still have two more available spots for my sale on Channeled Love Letters from your future spouse 18+ only, so check it out!

Want a private reading?

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Pile 1- Nine of Cups, Knight of Swords, Nine of Coins, Seven of Coins, The Emperor, Knight of Wands, and Queen of Wands.

Hi my pile 1 pookies ><

So this person hesitated a lot and although I usually do my readings starting off with pile 1 they made me skip them and work on pile 2's and 3's first instead? I think this person is really nervous about something. Kind of in a cute anxious way like 😅 but I had to listen because no cards would come out no matter how hard or long I shuffled. What's with this person? 🥴😭

Alright so this person feels very watery and emotional about you, I think their very thing about sex with you is definitely when you're on top, taking control. I think they really like the intimacy of the positions like cow girl or reverse cowgirl, they really like when you straddle their lap in general even when you two aren't having sex and just chilling on the couch. They really like watching your face as you ride them, they like watching your body move against them, they have the perfect view of you they said lol how cute eek ><

So if you don't want kids, that's okay, it's just in this person's fantasies they want to fuck you til the point the two of you actually want to take the condom off or maybe you both forget you have to pull out because you're both so emersed in pleasure and fucking each other? They want to get you pregnant but in such a wild way, they might not actually be ready for a kid yet, but the idea of it excites them so much they're hoping that you feel the same way and also want to have their babies.

This won't resonate with everyone but I'm picking up on a situation where you guys could already be married or just have children together already, this person could really like making babies with you, the sex that leads up to all, all the love that went into it!!

I think this person really enjoys angry sex, when you're mad at them and they get off their high horse and apologize first and they love to make up with sex afterwards, this person kinda just caves cause they love you and don't really want you to stay mad at them.

This person also likes it when you surprise them with sex, they love foreplay, they really like it when you two draw out sex and don't give it to each other right away, lots of teasing and just being playful until maybe you or them starts begging the other to do something more. I think this is partially because they really like spending time with you, this is only one of their favorite ways to spend quality time with you.

So this person could be a coworker or you might meet through work, something about business here. This person right now is at the top of their career, likes to present themselves as an Emperor. This person could really want to move forward in the connection with you if you know of them already, they're brainstorming lol. They really like you, they see you as a queen in their eyes, you could present yourself very carefully, like you have this clean look about you and you're pretty I heard! You take good care of yourself and your person really loves that about you! They're bananas for you? They said some cute cheesey pick up line or maybe a punch line that I'm unfamiliar with? ><

♡ Messages from them: "The way I have treated you was wrong."

"You are so different from everyone around me."

"You've triggered me."

"I can't handle your love."

I hope you enjoyed this reading!!

Pile 2- Seven of Cups, Three of Cups, Knight of Swords, Two of Pentacles, Seven of Coins, The Empress, and Ace of Chalices.

Hi my pile 2's!

So right away I feel like there's a message here for someone that you might know of this person already, that won't be for everyone so if it doesn't fit let it fly 🪽

So your future spouse might like how different you are in the bedroom than you are irl. Like you could come off as very shy or just someone that's not very kinky and your future spouse might've perceived you as inexperienced but your person loves it when you surprise them, take the lead and I'm hearing ride them lol. They like it when you're more dominant in bed, you don't have to be the dom every time but your person loves it when you are, they'll love for you to ride them until your thighs give out lol.

This person loves close sex, sex that's very emotional and clingy to one another. I think this person will have an emotional attachment to you, like even if you don't get married in 20 years this person will love you literally the same, even if you decide to take a break, this person will still carry so much love and respect for you! They love showing you how much they care for you during sex, they'll hold you a lot, and take the lead in bed most of the time to show you, they're very emotional when it comes to you. You guys might like to have sex in bed a lot, during the day, first waking up, because your person loves being close to you. I feel like they might like it when you lay there a lot while they give you oral, they love it when you're a pillow princess and they can bring you so much pleasure.

This person loves rough sex with you, the kinda sex the two of you can't keep your hands off each other and just can't get enough. They'll still be mindful and gentle with you, they love it when you communicate your needs and let them know what you want, they'll want to indulge in your kinks and make your fantasies happen, this person is safe to explore with. I think they might like to spank you if you're open to the idea! They're not super into bdsm but they're not vanilla either, I feel like this person actually wants to see how freaky you can get and they'd just match your freak so the sex will be better and better, it's never the same really, this person can be soft one night and super rough and wild another.

This person could love missionary a lot, bringing you to an orgasm in missionary so they can see your face, they could just love seeing you orgasm in general, in pure bliss beneath them, it's like it turns them on knowing they're the ones making you feel good. This person also likes that you're an Empress, you can stand your own ground with or without a significant other, they could love to watch you masturbate. I think this person loves chasing after you, it could turn them on lol! They love the idea of pleasing you, impressing you. They really want you lol how cute.

♡ Messages from them: "I know that we have a soul connection."

"I fantasize about you."

"They will never compare to you."

"You deserve better than them."

I hope you enjoyed this reading!!

Pile 3- Four of Pentacles, King of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles, The Lovers, Three of swords, Page of Coins, and Three of Cups.

Hi pile 3!

So right away I heard a funny little message that this person actually likes it when you yell at them, they said it in a hushed way so I feel like this person doesn't want you to actually know that 😭 lol, this person will do all kinds of things just to see you a bit angry and frustrated with them just because they find it hot? Kinda sadistic if you ask me 🥴

Your future spouse is kind of a wild card, but you might be too. I think you wouldn't imagine in a million years to settle down with this person because they always feel like they're on the move and really hard to stay in one place because they're constantly thinking of other things to do, they're very work oriented or something but I feel like at first they might not pay much attention to the relationship, they might even go as far as seeing other people but this is only in the beginning of the relationship obviously, this person will feel very drawn to you and will feel like you're they're missing puzzle piece, suddenly they don't have to be on the move anymore because no one is as interesting as you to them, you'll fill their senses I'm hearing! They'll just suddenly be so enamored with you.

I think when the two of you are intimate this person will become selfish, they'll only want you to come to them for everything, they'll really want to be your knight in shining armor, even during sex, this person will be all touchy and very sensual, they like having passionate sex with you, even if they are usually rougher you've made this person want to be all soft with you, maybe not during the whole time, but this person will definitely slow down suddenly and start giving you slower and deeper strokes, they love intimacy with you and just want to savor the moment and make sure the both of you will remember it, they want you coming back to them for more and only them. Even if this connection starts as friends with benefits this person would slowly come to hate the title, and realize they're scared of you choosing someone else over them because the title isn't permanent enough.

This person could really want to rip the clothes off you, they could rip your underwear right off you and it might surprise you. This person really loves your breasts, regardless of size they really like to suck on your nipples.

This person likes when you let down your guards for them, it could be a flex for them that they actually get to touch you in a way that this person admires you a lot and in their head they're yelling at themselves like "omg I can't believe I get to sleep with THEM, THEY'RE ACTUALLY ALLOWING ME TO???848&(_(_(&!'(&(!_(" This person thinks you're adorable, they just adore you! You could catch them staring at you a lot, like a puppy with big ol puppy dog eyes, it's the sweetest thing ever.

Even if you don't like this person the first time around or something happens that you two decide to break it off, this person would try really hard to come back around, I heard they love you even after you break their heart.

With the Page of Coins I feel like this person is actively working on the things in their life right now, all the things they want to get done they're getting done, they might be a student and they could be focused on studying a lot right now as well, but I feel like this person can't wait for the day this all pays off and they can finally reconnect with not only themselves but with friends as well, they could be in a moment of isolation right now because they're so busy studying or working.

They feel sad and lonely and their favorite thing about sex with you is being with you, they want emotional and healing sex with you, just to be close and feel the warmth of you, something about not feeling as lonely anymore with the comfort of you. :(

♡ Messages from them: "I feel lonely."

"I don't want to be alone."

"Emotions overwhelm me."

"I am better with my mind than my heart."

I hope you enjoyed this reading!!

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'dirty little secret' - 18+ logan x f!reader

summary: logan finds that you've left him a little gift behind, and he just can't help himself. (1.2k) tags: filthy, established relationship/situationship or smth idk, scent kink ig, age gap implied, sniffing panties, logan jerks off into readers underwear, sends reader a dick pic, for the 'scent' prompt for logan promptober.

the filthiness of it all only adds to his insatiable arousal, the dirty older man sniffing your damp panties as he gets off - you're so oblivious, oblivious to the wolf pining for his lamb. he'll take what he can get when you're not around, normally settling for a picture of you on his cheap flip phone. . . panties though? now that's a real treat.

it's the same every damn time. you leave and he misses you. his apartment feels cold and empty. a stark contrast to just a few hours prior, your head thrown back in ecstasy, his name slipping from your lips and echoing around the four walls.  logan grins at the memory, sighing softly. he'll see you again soon.

but not soon enough.

that's when the scent caught his attention, the distinct and undeniable smell of his woman. of you. your scent often lingered, logan revelling in it, but this was. . . different. you've left something behind.

and he intends to find it.

his nose twitches, snout high in the air as he follows the trail eagerly like an animal, seeking his prey. his boots stop abruptly by his bed, kneeling as he peers behind the frame.

logan's eyes light up the moment they land on your pretty pink panties. you've left a gift behind for him, how kind of you. he reaches out, grabbing the material, grinning when he rubs his thumb and forefinger against the fabric. still damp, fuck.

and he knows he shouldn't, it's a little wrong, a little dirty, but what's logan if not a little depraved? you wouldn't mind, not really, you probably did this on purpose. the thought of you dashing from his apartment in nothing but a stupid short skirt worn specifically to tease has him groaning - he's probably dripping out of you right this very second, down along your soft plush thighs for anyone to see.

so, he nestles into his bed, laying back with your panties hand. he crooks an arm behind his head, simply watching, feeling the silk brushing against his skin. and that scent. . . god, that fucking scent. he inhales deeply, the clear smell of your arousal making him go crazy, his cock twitching needily in his underwear.

bringing the cloth to his nose, he closes his eyes and inhales. his cock twitches angrily again as he exhales shakily, becoming oh so intoxicated by the addicting aroma of your sweet little cunt. you always smelled so fucking good, his mind wandering, getting lost in visions of his nose buried deep in your pussy, eating you like a man deprived.

"fuck. . ." logan hums into your panties, his free hand snaking along his white tank, tracing over his belt buckle to palm his growing bulge. he's so hard already. this is what you do to him, every damn time. have him acting up, acting like an animal with a primal desire to take you, hard and deep. but you're not here. so all poor logan can do is satisfy himself while high out of his mind on your scent.

the metal of his belt buckle rings out in the air as it's tossed aside, freeing himself from the confines of his jeans. he spreads his legs just a little, glancing down at the outline of his thick cock in his boxers. logan can't help but grin, how easy it was for him to get worked up with just a pair of panties and some thoughts.

his hand sneaks beneath the waistband and pulls out his throbbing length, groaning at the skin-on-skin contact as he pushes your pretty little panties against his face. the tip is leaking, his cock begging for you.

giving a few gentle strokes, logan's eyes roll back, the combined sensation of his hand and your scent so potent against his nose has him falling apart. he pictures you, how you leaked against this cute pink material, probably hoping he wouldn't notice. but he notices it now, with his nose buried deep in the cloth.

"dirty girl," he growls, large hand pumping lazily on his cock, "left your fuckin' panties behind on purpose huh?" his voice whispers into the empty bedroom, silent save for the sound of his strokes. "bet you wanted me to find 'em, wanted me to lose my mind findin' 'em all wet."

the filthiness of it all only adds to his insatiable arousal, the dirty older man sniffing your damp panties as he gets off - you're so oblivious, oblivious to the wolf pining for his lamb. he'll take what he can get when you're not around, normally settling for a picture of you on his cheap flip phone. . . panties though? now that's a real treat.

you're spoiling him, really. hand working himself faster as precum beads at his tip, nuzzling against the fabric as he snarls. he's close already, mind ablaze and body on fire from those beautiful pheromones of yours.

he grabs his dick harder, every vein throbbing angrily, desperate for release as he pumps himself, hips rising to thrust into his fist. your name finds its way out of his lips when he brings your panties down to wrap around his cock, fucking into the material.

"that's it. . ." he barks, "oh ffffffuck, that's it. . ."

he's gonna cum, gonna cum all over your little pretty pink panties, gonna make such a mess, stain them real good with his release. you'd like it too, maybe he'd invite you over again later just to watch you cum in them. fuck, you'd look good like that, sitting in ruined panties, all because of him, because of your man.

the cloth strains as his dick fucks against it, ripping slightly with his aggressive thrusts. can't help it, needs release too badly, can't focus on anything else. it's not as good as feeling himself sink into your soft, wet pussy, but god it feels fucking good all the same.

and then, he feels it, the warmth pooling in his gut. he's gonna cum, and it's gonna be hard, and loud. he's filled with the insatiable need to explode, wishing it was all over your face or. . . no, inside - fuuuck, he wants to cum inside you so badly. he watches as the fabric stretches across his tip, fucking into it like it's you, because it smells so much like you.

logan calls your name as white hot ropes of cum spurt from his twitching cock, escaping through the material, droplets landing on his fuzzy tummy while his vulgar thoughts run wild. he works himself through it, stroking himself through his dizzying release as every stiff muscle in his body settles.

he sighs, exhaling as he melts further into his sheets. logan lifts your panties from his softened length, smirking at the remnants of the tattered cloth, dripping with his cum. you won't be wearing these again, but that's alright, logan's already forming plans to take you lingerie shopping. this can't be a one-time thing.

reaching over for his phone on the bedside table, he flips it open, his smirk widening as he finds your number. he's not one for texting, doesn't really appeal to him. but in that moment, as he snaps a pic of his cock with your wrecked, cum soaked panties wrapped around the thick shaft, he wonders if he might have a new tradition.

' leave a blue pair next time. ' he types, and hits send.

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request Sorry, it's me again! I't just that I really, really love your writing and I forgot to mention "Alley boyfriends" and "Alfred's Boy". If you could update either of those I would be very grateful <3 <3 <3

The first sign that something is wrong is finding Damian with a bow and arrow in the tallest room at Wayne Manor. Or, more specifically, seeing the boy aiming the arrow out the window in the direction of Dick and Danny cuddling in a backyard hammock.

Thankfully, he had been fast enough to snatch the arrow from the air before it went anywhere near the cuddling duo. Damian insisted he wasn't aiming for either of them- just the strings holding the hammock up.

The reason? Dick had gone over the agreed-upon cuddle time, and Damian wanted to make him stop. Bruce knew it was just because he was jealous.

Bruce had seen his youngest making doe eyes at Danny earlier that morning while the boy was doing his daily chores. He's been more energetic since Wes left and was willing to share his half-human status with the Wayne household after a talk with Alfred.

All of his children took the news well. They had many teammates who weren't human, but Bruce could tell Danny was still afraid to tell them the truth. Despite the many times Danny provided support in the Batcave and knew of said teammates, he still feared that he would be the exception to their acceptance.

It seemed his parents had left more prominent scars than Danny had been willing to show.

After a brief but vague- Alfred made it a point that his contact did not want Danny stating what he was until it was safe to do so- the Waynes got the gist that Danny needed cuddles.

Almost all his youngest had quickly offered their services, but Alfred and Bruce stopped it. The two men created a cuddling schedule, like a meal plan, to help Danny regain a healthier state, along with the few older ones, excluding Jason.

His second eldest had been highly offended to not be on the schedule, but Alfred calmed him with a whisper. "Think about how hilarious this will be to watch?" Jason had returned to his romance novel, cackling like a loon.

He was easy to manipulate.

Alfred forbade Bruce from telling Jason about Danny's slight crush. The reason was that Clockwork had already spoken to Alfred about it being a passing fancy, and it was safer for Danny's kind to not be rejected until later. Bruce burned with many questions, but he would never dare investigate Alfred or his affairs.

He respected him too much.

Now, if only his kids would behave.

"Damian Wayne, we do not shoot arrows at our siblings." Bruce scolds, wagging a finger at the boy's pouting face.

"But you let Drake throw a spoon at Girl Row!" Damian whines, crossing his arms. In moments like this, Bruce is violently reminded that for all his advanced vocabulary and intelligence, his son is still a fourteen-year-old teenager who could act childish.

"I did not let Tim do anything. He's ground for throwing things at Harper." Bruce sighs, rubbing his right temple. A pounding headache was starting to build up there. "Just because she came to watch Danny's cooking lesson with Tim and Cullen and chose to give Danny a quick snack with her hug does not mean Tim had a right to throw utensils."

"It wasn't even aimed at her head," Tim mutters from the hallway. His punishment for his behavior was that he was to stay within the six feet radius of Bruce. It was the only surefire way to ensure Tim wasn't up to something, like working on case work or plotting to overthrow a small government.

Bruce would break out the kid's leash if he tried to run again.

It was hilarious when Tim was thirteen, and the kid leash still had the same threat level at seventeen as it did then.

"That's another week," Bruce tells him.

"What!? I didn't even do anything!"

"Two weeks."

"Come on!"

"Three weeks." Bruce drawls, which causes Damian to smile until his father looks him in the eye. "I don't know why you seem too amused. You're grown for two weeks as well, young man."

Damian throws his arms up, wisely keeping his mouth shut as he steps with Tim. Now Bruce had two kids he couldn't let out of his sight, and they did something crazy. He marches them out of the room towards his office, where he plans on getting some work done and putting them both to do some extra class studying.

They pass by Jason, who looks like the cat that got the cream at their obvious grounding. He waves a couple of tickets in the air. "It seems like you brats are grounded. Too bad, I was about to invite you to show at the planetarium."

"Why would I waste my time there?" Damian scoffs as Tim glares. Bruce feels his headache growing stronger as Jason smugly proclaims.

"Danny is a huge star nerd. He was excited to finally see the show now that he was feeling better. He wanted us all to go together, but you'll have to miss it since you're still getting grounded at your age." Jason mocks, walking away while shaking his head. Bruce has only a few seconds to wonder why his second is like this, and then Tim and Damian explode with pleas to let them join the rest of the children.

He stays firm in their punishment, but he honestly doesn't feel safe by the way the two, right in front of him, start putting their difference aside and communicate with mere glances a plan of escape. Bruce wishes their corporation wouldn't come at the expense of his sanity.

He glances out the window, watching Dick and Danny talk, and it hits him suddenly that Dick is making that face he usually reserves for staring at baby ducks and baby elephants. His eldest was forming a deeper bond with the boy, which could mean several things, but the center of it all was what made him such a good leader.

Dick was breaching the walls Danny had built so strongly around him.

By tonight, Bruce would not be surprised if Dick started calling Danny his little brother. Coupled with the effort Jason put in to get Danny out of the house and around more people, the boy was healing in a way he so desperately needed.

He was so proud of them. Bruce is so glad the kids allowed him into their lives in moments like these. They saved him more times than he counted, and he does not, meanwhile, being Batman.

The kids saved Bruce Wayne, and he hopes they will save Danny Fenton similarly if the younger boy allows it. Not just because he's Alfred's boy but because he is a Wayne in a different shade.

Danny's face lights up with a smile, looking far more alive than ever before, and Bruce's eyes soften. Then they harden when he spots Steph creeping closer to the hammock from behind some bushes, a garden hose in her hand.

"No! No, no!" He shouts, running down the hallway with Tim and Damian behind. "Don't even think about it, young lady!"

[ponderingmoonlight]

How you accidentally made Dante look like a hero again

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: All you wanted was to outsmart Dante and prove he was setting you up for demon attacks in order to get closer to you. Instead, you ended up buried under library rubble, fighting off scorpion demons, and getting saved by him — again. This is why you have trust issues.

Warnings: swearing, kinda enemies to lovers dynamic, I just love Dante y'all need to have mercy with me lol

You’re starting to think you’re cursed.

That’s the only explanation for it. How else do you keep ending up in demon-infested alleys, haunted casinos, and - once - dangling upside down from a stolen motorcycle, twice in the same week? No average person deserves so much distress.

But even worse: every time - every damn time - there’s Dante.

Bursting in like he’s auditioning for an action movie. Guns blazing, coat flaring behind him, a cocky smirk plastered across his stupidly handsome face.

God, how much you hate that guy.

…do you?

"Oh no," you mutter under your breath when you spot him swaggering through the chaos yet again.

"Not this asshole."

"Miss me, babe?" he calls, spinning his sword once before cleaving a demon in half like it's no big deal.

You barely dodge a flying claw, pretty used to almost dying by now.

"Dante, why are there hellhounds in the laundromat?! I just came here to do my laundry!"

He winks at you like this is all part of some grand romantic plan.

"You know. Crazy city. You never know what’s gonna happen. Nice panties by the way, wish I could see them up close."

You stare at him, sceptical to say the least, as he shoots a demon that was two inches away from biting your head off.

"This is the fourth time this month. And every time you're 'coincidentally' nearby!"

He strolls over, casually beheading something with his sword like he's just stretching his legs. How many times have you seen this already? Probably like a hundred times.

This month.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, sweetheart."

You gawk at him. No, the thing he calls fate can’t be an accident. There is literally no way in hell that you get attacked even more often than himself. There has to be another reason. Could it be that…?

"Are you setting this up?!"

He gives you a look, all fake innocence and devilish grin.

That bastard.

"Who, me? Nahhh. Demons just have a thing for damsels. Lucky for you... I'm a professional knight in shining armor."

A piece of ceiling collapses dangerously close to you. You flinch for once. Dante doesn’t even blink, just throws an arm around your waist and throws you out of the way with way too much enthusiasm.

You land on your back with a grunt, staring up at the cracked ceiling and wondering what life choices led you here. Where did you take a wrong turn to deserve this? Being liked by a hot guy is all fun and games until the name of that jerk is Dante Sparda, apparently.

Dante leans over you, upside-down, grinning like a maniac.

"You good? Need mouth-to-mouth?" he offers helpfully.

You shove him off you, the heat of his body almost devouring you whole.

"I’m getting a restraining order."

"You say that, but then who’s gonna save you next time you almost get eaten by a possessed vending machine?"

You open your mouth to argue - and realize you have no idea how to deal with possessed vending machines. You groan, burying your face in your hands.

“Maybe you’re the one who possesses everything around me…”

Dante pats your head fondly like you’re some kind of beloved but very dumb kitten.

"You mean like your thoughts? Most definitely, yeah. But don't worry, babe," he coos cheerfully, "I'll always be there to save your pretty little ass."

You’re pretty sure that’s supposed to be comforting. Instead, you start mentally drafting your will.

“Get off me now, I need to get going jerk. And stop staring at my panties”, you hiss through gritted teeth while getting up, packing your things and leaving.

No, this isn’t an accident, not your fault by any means. Dante is the one who sets all of this shit up.

“That fucker…”, you mutter to yourself, slamming the door shut in fury.

You can’t do this anymore, can’t take seeing a demon each time you leave your house. You’ll have to teach him a lesson.

Yes, there has to be a way to stop this madness once and for all.

“I’ll catch you mid-act, Dante…”

You hatch a plan.

A pretty simple one: bait Dante into showing up, catch him red-handed, and finally prove he's arranging all this chaos.

You pick the most boring, demon-unfriendly place you can think of: the public library. No shady alleys, no creepy neon signs, no way in hell anything supernatural is hanging out between the tax law section and the dusty romance novels.

You text him a fake tip, something about "possible demonic activity" near the library, totally urgent, definitely needs his professional attention.

Then you sit back, tuck yourself into a corner with a stack of books, and wait.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. Thirty.

No Dante.

You start to relax. Maybe he finally got the hint. Maybe he's actually busy for once. Did your words from yesterday finally stir something inside of his brain?

And that's when the ceiling caves in.

You shriek as a massive scorpion demon crashes through the roof, scattering books and terrified civilians everywhere. Librarians are running for their lives. An entire row of encyclopedias explodes in a puff of dusty chaos, taking your sight while you desperately try to crawl out of the scene.

Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. That definitely wasn’t written on your bingo card for today.

"What the hell?!" you shout, diving behind a bookshelf just in time before a whole fucking shelf bumps onto the ground next to you.

"HEY BABY!" a too-familiar voice yells from somewhere in the smoke.

You peek out and see Dante standing atop the checkout desk, dual pistols in hand, grinning like this is the best day of his life.

"Miss me?"

You stare at him, speechless. No, this has to be a dream. This was supposed to be a trap, you set him off in order to finally find him guilty. And now this?

"HOW?!"

He jumps off the desk, unloading a round of bullets into the demon's face like it’s a casual Tuesday.

"You sent me the text! Good instincts, by the way - I was gonna ignore it, but then I figured, ‘Hey, if my girl’s around, probably gonna be some action.’ And look! Action!"

You dodge a flying claw and seriously consider strangling him with a library card cord.

"I SENT YOU A FAKE TEXT!" you shout over the sound of gunfire.

"THERE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE A REAL DEMON!"

"Aw," Dante replies, kicking a demon minion into a copy machine, "you’re so modest. You’re like a magnet for this stuff."

You have no time to argue. The giant scorpion is bearing down on you. You grab the nearest weapon, a hardcover dictionary about curse words in Spanish, and hurl it at its head. It bounces off harmlessly. Yeah, what a surprise, actually.

Dante whistles low, impressed.

"Good arm, babe. But here - lemme show you how it's done."

Before you can blink, he’s in front of you, sword flashing, doing some ridiculously show-offy spin move that absolutely wasn’t necessary but looks cool as hell anyway.

The demon collapses with a final screech.

Silence falls over the destroyed library.

Books smolder, paper flutters in the air like sad confetti. Somewhere, a printer makes a pathetic beep before dying.

You sit down heavily on the floor, dazed.

Dante strolls over, all proud, offering you a hand up.

"No need to thank me. It’s kinda my thing."

You stare at him, mind still processing what just happened. Your mission failed – miserably, so say the least.  

"I literally TRIED to set you up."

"And look how well it worked!" he declares brightly.

"You lured out the bad guys! You're a natural at this demon-hunting stuff. I'm so proud."

You want to punch him. You want to kiss him. You want to punch him then kiss him.

Instead, you let him pull you to your feet, dusting off your scorched jacket.

"I'm never texting you again," you grumble.

"Sure you will," Dante coos, flashing that stupid, charming grin.

"You can't resist me."

You open your mouth to argue - and immediately get tackled to the ground as a second, smaller demon leaps from the wreckage.

You land with a painful thud, pinned beneath Dante’s weight as he shoots over your head, finishing off the last monster.

When the danger’s over, he stays there for an awkward beat too long, smirking down at you.

"See? Told ya. Always there to catch ya when you fall."

You groan, covering your face with your hands while absolutely hating how good his body weight feels on top of you, how surprisingly good that asshole of a man smells.

"I'm going to die of second-hand embarrassment."

"Nah," Dante retorts confidently, getting up and pulling you with him again.

"If anyone’s gonna kill you, it’s gonna be something way cooler. Like a demon. Or a possessed espresso machine."

You squint at him.

 "You’re not gonna let this go, are you?"

He slings an arm around your shoulders like he owns the place, like the ablaze library isn’t his fault at all, and leads you toward the exit.

"Nope. You're stuck with me, sweetheart."

You sigh.

Maybe getting a new phone and a new name wouldn’t be the worst idea.

…Or just giving in.

[tikitakatia]

Swapsies — A.Putellas x Reader

WC: 0.9k

Summary: It was supposed to be a quiet night just watching netflix. Now you're late, Alexia's wearing toothpaste, and someone definitely packed the wrong lunch.

You wake up in a panic.

The kind of panic that comes from realizing you and Alexia were definitely not watching Netflix until 2am like you promised yourselves. No. There were zero shows. Just a lot of kissing. A little dancing in the kitchen. And then… Well, let’s just say the couch is never going to look at you two the same way again.

Now the sun is way too high in the sky, and both of you are tangled in sheets, limbs, and disaster.

“Mierda,” Alexia mumbles, hair a complete mess from how many times your hands had been in it last night: angled, tousled, and very much the result of non-sleep-related activities. “I have that meeting at the foundation.”

“And I’m late for my first day at the new school,” you groan, pulling on pants backwards and realizing only after you’ve buttoned them.

Chaos becomes teamwork. You pass her a hoodie while brushing your teeth. She hands you a banana with her mouth still full of toothpaste. Somehow, two lunch boxes make it into two bags and kisses are exchanged like a panicked currency.

“I love you!”

“Don’t die!”

And you both vanish into the day.

You’re halfway through your substitute teaching gig, taking a small food break when you realize: something’s wrong.

This isn’t your lunch.

You open the container expecting your sad, weird combo of a PB&J sandwich, half a granola bar, and the cookie you accidentally sat on last night during “couch activities.” Instead, you’re staring at a perfectly arranged, macro-balanced meal of grilled salmon, quinoa, avocado, and steamed broccoli. There’s even a tiny tupperware of tahini dressing.

You’ve made a terrible mistake.

Across town, Alexia is chewing on your sandwich like it personally offended her.

The granola bar crumbles in her hand. The cookie is fused to its wrapper in a way that feels disrespectful. By 11:30, she’s in a boardroom, smiling politely while her stomach growls loud enough to register on nearby seismographs. One of the interns glances under the table like a small animal might be loose.

Alexia excuses herself with the calmness of someone about to rob a bank.

The school receptionist doesn’t even question her. Just blinks twice as Alexia, hair in a bun, hoodie half-zipped, marches through the door like she owns the place.

She’s almost made it to the staff room when it happens.

“OH MY GOD.”

Three kids spot her first.

Then five more.

Then ten.

Suddenly, she’s swarmed.

“ALEXIA PUTELLAS?!”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“Are you a substitute now? Is it for P.E.?!”

“Can I touch your hair?!”

“Do you live in Messi’s old house?!”

Before she can say a single word, one kid is hugging her leg. Another is already climbing her back like she’s a jungle gym. A small girl with sparkly glasses hands her a crayon drawing of “Alexia and a lion fighting crime.” A boy in a Spider-Man T-shirt asks if her knees “make robot sounds when she runs.”

Someone gives her a juice box.

Someone else tries to trade her a Pokémon card for “one goal in a real match.”

She’s signing a notebook when a group drags her to the gym for an impromptu penalty shootout using a foam ball and a laundry basket as a goal.

“Play fair!” one girl yells. “You’re a world champion, not a cheater!”

Alexia raises her hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to eat!”

They don’t care. She’s theirs now.

By the time she finally finds you, she looks like she’s survived a toddler uprising. Her hoodie is covered in stickers. There’s glitter on her face. A “Be Kind” badge has been clipped to her chest, crooked.

You’re sitting in the cafeteria, already smirking, watching her approach. You know what’s coming. Alexia, with her signature determined look, angling straight for your lunch, ready to reclaim her stolen meal. She’s probably plotting her usual move to swipe it from right under your nose.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed, making sure to place her lunch in front of you like a prized possession.

“They mobbed me,” she says, eyes wide. “I got tackled. Tackled. I played an entire match and didn’t get this bruised.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to suppress a grin. “Did you win?”

She looks down at her foam ball trophy with marker scribbles and shrugs. “Barely.”

You chuckle. “You’re always so dramatic.”

She raises an eyebrow back, giving you a pointed look. “I’m not the one who stole food.”

You’re about to respond when she makes her move. She shifts toward your lunch, clearly intent on getting back the meal you “borrowed” from her. You brace the usual swift maneuver, but instead of snatching your food, she pulls out another lunchbox, a second one, and slides it in front of you with a grin.

“You’re not the only one who can play the food game,” she says. “I figured you might need something healthier today.”

You stare at the neatly packed lunch: grilled chicken, roasted veggies, quinoa, and hummus. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

“You’re a sneaky one,” you say, shaking your head in amusement.

She smirks, sitting down next to you. “Just making sure you actually eat something that won’t leave you starving in an hour.”

You look at the meal in front of you and then back at her. “This is way too nice for me.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, picking at her own lunch with a satisfied look, “you’ve earned it.”

You lean over, kiss her, glitter and all, because even after a chaotic morning, she’s found a way to take care of you.

And somehow, she still looks like she could score a hat trick right after.

[goatgoesmbe]

There was this one idea that was kind of plaguing my mind. (Poly141× fem reader)

Reader joins 141, and is great, like nothing wrong with her. Following orders to the T, like overall on paper she's a hardworking team member just like the rest of them. But she doesn't really open up you know? Like others make occasional jokes and all. But she's not a hardass either she just simply stays in her space and is quiet just observing them.

Like if they even try to include her she's just either politely refuses them or occasionally gives her input. But that's it. They basically never have seen her smile, laugh, joke. They don't know why? Like were they doing something wrong? Or maybe it's cause you're new that's why.

But imagine their surprise when the they're all in bar, just enjoying each other's company. And they all hear a girls group basically entering the bar and then they see you. Dressed in such a pretty tight dress, smiling, laughing with her friends, drinking, flirting with bartender to get free drinks. And it's like there's a whole new human in front of them. They were all stunned, even Ghost (which was rare).

And it's like they could addicted to the sight of you smiling and laughing but you don't even talk to them outside work ;( So they all start to make a plan on how to get you to open up to them and probably has bets and all too.

(Sorry I vomitted too much. This is kind of self insert because I'm like this😭. I keep my guard up for very long time in front of new people and then I'm a complete different person in front of my friends lol)

im lowkey the same, but im more like a feral gremlin instead of a hottie-

I feel like Johnny would be the one who's very serious about getting you to be comfortable with them. But he'd be too eager, if Simon didn't hold him back by his shirt, he would already walk over to you and your girlfriends.

John would observe and think. And he didn't know why he felt a bit jealous of your friends who are able to see that version of you often, he wanted you to be comfortable with him too. As his eyes met yours, he smiled at the flushed on the high of your cheeks, embarrassed at being caught in that persona.

Kyle would be similar to Johnny but he's a smooth guy. He wouldn't approach you, but he would order drinks for you (and your friends) without you knowing. He didn't tell the bartender about telling you, but he wasn't against it either. And of course, you had to ask who was buying the drinks, and when the bartender pointed at him, you felt your cheeks heating up even more as your friends giggled and made eyes at him.

And i think Simon would be more understanding. He had been living a double life himself, separated by the mask. Ghost might be known as a ruthless killer, but Simon Riley is just a silly guy who enjoys making bad jokes with his friends. So he would just let you be, he's content with any version of you, and you would eventually be comfortable with them soon enough anyway- as he let the others do the job for him.

[djcandiepaws]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ yandere! crossdresser x reader

summary: a fanfic introduction to yan!crossdresser cw: stalking, mentions of murder, and implications of masturbation!

You had recently moved to a new state due to your mother being given a job offer in a state completely different than yall's previous one.

When you transferred it was lowkey hell. I mean, obviously you were exempt from assignments prior to you coming because you JUST transferred. But even so its a different state so there's obviously different teachers with completely different teaching styles, and not only that but also new topics. Some of which you weren't taught beforehand.

It was tough to catch up, and especially with math. They were teaching a topic you weren't taught in your other school yet and to make matters worse they were already well into the unit and so you were pretty much behind from the start.

One day you were in class struggling to listen to the teacher. She goes over stuff a bit fast and you're one of those students that have trouble asking for help so right off the bat it was a bad start.

Soon the class ended and you were about to get your notebook and leave until you feel a tap on your shoulder. That's how you met her. Or him? It's confusing. Like you saw the teacher call him by male pronouns yet, I don't know, they look like the epitome of feminine beauty, it's intriguing. "Hey! I saw you were struggling to keep up with notes in class. If you want you can take a picture of mine, I don't mind at all! Especially since you're a new student and all!" He chuckled while uttering the last bit.

You're very thankful for the help but oh my god.. He's ethereal. It's honestly fair how perfect he is. He doesn't even seem human, I mean, he's androgynous which people say is like peak attractivity, he seemingly gets good grades, and he seems kind so far? Like he's offering up his notes, and as far as you know he hasn't done anyone dirty, well that you know of. He's so perfect it's uncanny.

He nervously fidgets with the ends of his hair due to him noticing your very obvious staring. "Uhhh, is there something wrong?" You instantly snap out of it and become flustered after realizing how you must've made him a bit self conscious with how hard you were staring.

"I'm sorry! Also, yes, thank you! I was struggling really bad with this lesson. It's been hard to keep up!" You reply feeling a bit bad with how you obviously made him feel. "I understand that, I just transferred a few months ago but trust me it gets easier to stay on top of stuff. Actually, after school would you mind meeting up with me at the library and we could study together and maybe even grab lunch after?" Honestly your eyes lit up the moment he said that. This could get you on top of your grades and finally get you passing!

"Yes! Of course! Thank you!" Instinctively you hug him tightly. He gives you the pages of his notes and you take a few snaps of them. Y'all also save each others numbers in your phones to keep in touch. This honestly feels like your lucky day, your grades mean everything to you and to get the upper hand by meeting this guy feels like winning the lottery!

As for him? Poor you just existed and he's love-struck by you already! Even before officially meeting you he's been watching you around the school. Taking pictures of you openly but using him being in the photography club as an excuse when people question him (he isn't in ANY club). He often goes to the same places he sees you visit/pass by to catch glimpses of you, and when he does he goes in his notes app and writes down the places you go to/pass by and writes at what time you often visit so he can be there when you pass by again.

Sometimes he'll follow you home closely behind you and take photos of you and he REALLY likes the photo he took he keeps it in a special ribbon box of photos he especially likes of you and keeps it for his alone time. It might seem creepy but you have to understand he loves you and he will do absolutely anything to get you to himself, maybe he would even kill if need be.

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- to you being bullied in the past/highschool

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

tw: this one holds a lot of mentions of verbal bullying and cyberbullying - it's something very close to home for me and this fic will be for anyone who has experienced the same thing. remember that you are strong and the harsh words don't define you! i love you and stay safe <33

he can feel his blood boiling the moment you comment on your past experiences with bullies. seungcheol prides himself to be a level-headed type of guy, but the thought of you getting hurt - even in the past - strikes a chord deep inside of him. he's thinking about buying a plane ticket to your hometown just to find those fuckers and bury them six feet under. however, he's mature enough to know that violence never solves anything, opting to show you even more love than before (if that's even possible) to remind you that you are worth everything in the world.

jeonghan's mind is already whirring overtime the moment he finds out about your past. using his scary, evil, mastermind brain for good this time, he can't help but envision decking the people who've hurt you. doesn't mind listening to you as you rant, knowing that you need a silent supporter by your side. will never tell you about how he sees red just thinking about your so-called "friends" who made you feel so horrible about yourself.

joshua can feel his heart crack with each name you tell him you've been called. takes the time to reassure you that you are none of those horrible things, that you're kind and beautiful and so so so smart. traces his finger across every scar and imperfection you've been bullied over, whispering how much he loves you. doesn't mind giving your bullies the nastiest side-eye the next time he sees them.

although he's doing his best to be present as you tell him about your past, jun is internally screaming at himself because you. are. crying. it's like he malfunctions every time it happens, hating how sad and scared you look. despite his panic, he's awfully calm when he comforts you, explaining to you that no, you are not weak because of this. in fact, you're much much stronger.

soonyoung's somehow found himself perched on top of a chair, his body steaming with anger, holding too much rage to sit still. you can tell he's struggling to hold back the foulest curse words, knowing that he should at least let you finish your rant. the moment you're done however, he's cursing them, their mother, their partner, anyone he can get his metaphorical hands on. it's okay baby. he'd tell you once he's calmed down. they're probably failing in life. but look at you! you're successful and beautiful and you're dating me!

wonwoo's asking you questions in a way that makes you fear for what he's about to do. what's their address? social media? social security number? you have to physically sit him down and remind him that the bullying happened years ago in highschool and that there was no point in trying to get revenge now. he's visibly deflated by the news, but decides to just dote on you even more to prove to you that their awful words were wrong. i'm no good with words, but i'll show you how fucking stupid they were to hurt you.

jihoon doesn't really know what to say when you tell him. he only thanks you for feeling brave enough to share such a painful part of you with him, feeling happy you trust him enough to do so. neither one of you revisits the topic: until one day, you see a suspicious amount of rageful revenge lyrics and comfort lyrics in seventeen's new releases. i guess we can credit the making of Hug to that instance.

minghao's glad he meditated last night because what you just told him would have definitely set him off without it. he doesn't hesitate to hold you, asking you if you need anything from him. i'm so proud of you for surviving all that, my love. they were obviously blind and didn't see your worth. and i'm sorry you thought they were your friends. he makes it clear that he's here for you, whenever you need to talk about it again.

seokmin more than upset when you're finished telling him everything- he's confused. he doesn't understand why anyone would want to hurt you, let alone say all those nasty things and pretend to be your friend. he apologizes for crying, trying to laugh it off by saying idk why i'm crying so hard, it didn't even happen to me but i'm the one sobbing like a baby. promises you that he's never leaving your side and you don't have to ever worry about him turning on you like your friends did in highschool.

all mingyu can think about as he listens is that he could have made it all better if he had just been there. he tells you while gently wiping away your tears that he would've traded places with you in an instant. i wish we'd met when we were younger, love. i would have fought them all back. but most of all, he wishes he was there to protect the younger you, knowing a child didn't deserve all that.

although you're doing a great job already, seungkwan can't help but join in on dissing your bullies and so-called "friends." he nods along enthusiastically every time you throw an insult, preferring always to laugh about it instead of cry. he's hyping you up, agreeing with everything you say as you recount your highschool days. yeah, no she sounds like a bitch. i bet he couldn't even read a chapter book. bro probably stank, you were safer without him. she's sounding like one of those insane kdrama rich ladies - and not the hot ones.

vernon's quietly listening, storing away every single piece of information for the next time you guys return to your hometown. he's already preparing his plethora of insults and backhanded digs, ready to show them a taste of their own medicine. he quietly tells you that he can relate - school had never been kind to him either - and he somehow spins all your shared trauma into something beautiful. we were meant to be, he says, cause you healed me, and now i can heal you. his words make you smile through the tears - and you fucking love him for that.

chan's at a loss for words once you're finished telling him everything. he's overwhelmed by the sheer amount of harsh words and sickening moments, knowing that if he felt this bad just hearing about it, he couldn't imagine how you felt going through it all. you're much braver than i would have been, is all he says after a pause. i love you. chan might be a man of few words, but he knows just what to say.

[vroomvroomwee]

Crowley is Lucifer

(Ok I know some of you don't believe this theory but I highly suggest you give this a quick read anyway. I tried to make it short and easy and I'll be going chronologically, from s1 all through s2)

- First, let's get this out of the way, Lucifer and Satan aren't neccesarilly the same person. Even in the show the devil that appeared in s1 has only ever been reffered to as Satan, not even once as Lucifer.

- In the bible Lucifer was the one to tempt Eve with the apple, and who do we know that does that in the show. Crowley is literally THE snake from Eden.

- An obvious one perhaps, but the red hair is also a giveaway

- In the bible Jesus was tempted by the devil for 30 days, in the show Crowley says "I showed him all the kingdoms of the world", so that's another role Lucifer has that Crowley had in the show

- It's well known (even mentioned in the Sandman) that Lucifer was the most beautiful of all angels, and our demon is played by no other than David Tennant

Now on to season 2 because there's a LOT to unpack here

- He litterally started the engine of the universe which was one of Lucifers roles

- He's the first to say "let there be light", which is pretty fucking huge since that is Gods line

- "I worked closely with upstairs on it" even in the first scene they're telling us Crowley is an angel of very very high rank

- He fell for asking questions, which is litterally what Lucifer fell for, for questioning God. This in and of itself should be a pretty big indicator. "I only ever asked questions"

- Shax: "a miracle of enourmous power only the mightiest of archangels can perform"

Crowley: "How do you know I didn't do it"

And Shax just... doesn't counter that. She looks even skeptical, as if it COULD be a possibility, unlike Uriel who says to Aziraphale don't excpect us to believe you did it. Shax litterally doesn't shut the option down which confirms Crowley has the power not only of an archangel but of the mightiest kind

- In the bookshop with Gabriel/Jim he says "I don't remember. It [gravity] seemed like a good idea when we were all talking about it"

- "You're welcome to come in, you might even spot an archangel" don't tell me this was Crowley just egging Shax on and not being sneaky

- The fact that he could sense the demons coming. "Somethings wrong""It's coming in waves", when Aziraphale couldn't. It could be a demon thing but we saw Sandalphon, an archangel of lower rank, in the first season mention "something smells evil" so obviously angels can sense demons too, they just have to be powerful enough. And keep in mind Sandalphon was already in the book shop for quite some time, Crowley sensed them even before they had arrived (he also sensed the hell hound who was some fucking miles away)

- The.fucking.folder. "You have to be a throne or dominion above" and this dude opens these clasified documents like it's nothing. If this isn't an indicator of his high position as an angel I don't know what is.

- He's worked with Saraqael, another very high ranking angel

- "I'm the only first order archangel in the room"... and the camera imediately pans to Crowley, and for anyone who's read the book and watched the show you know that rarely anything is coincidental

- When the Metatron says they can't lose another prince of heaven. This... this fucking line. So it's relatively well known that Gabriel and Lucifer are brothers, and if Gabriel is one of the princes of heaven I wonder who the other one could be. "Two princes of heaven". And the Metatrons words were very careful, he doesn't say lost as in heaven can't find him, he says it in the context that they won't be sending Gabriel to hell since they won't lose another prince to downstairs

- In the bookshop when no one can identify the Metatron he turns to Crowley who imediately recognises him. Now you have this dude, who's literally on top of the angel hierarchy and is responsible for running heaven and the connection to God themself, surrounded by archangels and a principality you spoke to face to face with just a few years ago and... none of them can tell who you are, the only one who does is the literal demon. That tells us that Crowley has not only seen him in this form, but has probably worked with the Metaron himself personally. "Always asking damn fool questions", 10 million angels and he remembers what this one particular angel was like 6000 years ago

- Crowley is also very reluctant to reveal his identity as an angel. Now if he were just an ordinary angel of no real significance he wouldn't have a problem revealing his name, but... if his name was one that's the literal representation of all evil in this world, then it is understandable he keeps it a secret, in fear he might scare Aziraphale away

- And I wanted to leave the best for last. So you remember in the book when Crowley has to sign his name to start Armaggedon, and Hastur tells him "no, your real name" after which he reluctantly writes it. Now in the book we never see him write anything, but in the show we see him write a sygil, something that looks very mich like an L. An L... A FUCKING L. And now I wonder how this theory didn't come up sooner.

(Also he can fucking stop time, like dafuq)

Edit:

- "Oh looky here it's Lucifer and the guys" we all thought he was talking about someone else, he's just refferencing things other angels have said about HIM. FUCK

- I keep seing people saying Crowleys memories were wiped because he couldn't remember Saraqael and Furfur. But I think people forget, demons lie. He's lying to make them think he's not that angel they worked with, that he's not Lucifer. (In season 1 we hear him a few times refferencing his life as an angel, so he does remember most of it)

- Also saying if the Raphael theory were true then as showrunners they would have mentioned him somewhere for those not that familiar with the bible (or don't read much fanfiction). The refferences for Crowleys past are so so vague that it would be too sudden and confusing if he were Raphael. But there is one name that everyone is familiar with, no matter who you are how old you are or where you're from, a name that needs no introduction.

Edit 2:

- Back to him being the most beautiful angel, I don't think it was ever quite explained how every single demon when they're in hell looks... awful, but Crowley doesn't. Beelzebub has the spores all over their face, Hastur the maggots and the sh-, Dagon the scales etc. But Crowley doesn't, not even when he's in hell, he's always just so, well, pretty.

- I saw a few people asking about how Lucifer started the rebellion and Crowley wouldn't do that. I think it's the same Crowley who wouldn't get stuck in traffic after creating the M25, or the same Crowley that wanted to call Aziraphale after bringing down the entire London network, "you told them you invented the spanish inquisition, and started the second world war""so the humans beat me to it that's not my fault", "so all this is your demonic work?""no, the humans thought it up themselves nothing to do with me"

- Also I think Satan's in charge of hell not Crowley the same way the Metatron's in charge of heaven and not Gabriel (and who can very easily demote angels if he so wishes)

Edit 3:

- like some of you pointed out Lucifer is also known/means Light-bringer. And Crowley was the first to say "let there be light."

- The file he opens with Muriel is Gabriels file, a class A archangel, so if he knows the password to that it means that either he's on the same level as Gabriel, or above him.

[jessica-problems]

Seeing @thydungeongal constantly wrestling with people interpreting her posts about D&D in ways that seem completely alien to me has convinced me that there are actually multiple completely distinct activities both being referred to as "playing D&D" Before we begin, I want to stress that I'm not saying one of these groups is Playing The Game Wrong or anything, but there seems to be a lot of confusion and conflict caused by people not being aware of the distinction. In fact, either one works just fine if everyone's on the same page. So far, I think I've identified at least two main groups. And nobody seems to realize the distinction between these groups even exists. The first group of people think of "Playing D&D" as, well, more or less like any other board game. Players read the whole rulebook all the way through, all the players follow the instructions, and the gameplay experience is determined by what the rules tell each player to do. This group thinks of the mechanics as, not exactly the *whole* game, but certainly the fundamental skeleton that everything else is built on top of. People in the second group think of "Playing D&D" as referring to, hanging out with their friends, collaboratively telling a story inspired by some of the elements in the rulebooks, maybe rolling some dice to see what happens when they can't decide. This group thinks of the mechanics of the game as, like... a spice to sprinkle on top of the story to mix things up. (if you belong to this second group, and think I'm explaining it poorly, please let me know, because I'm kind of piecing things together from other people saying things I don't understand and trying to reverse engineer how they seem to be approaching things.) I think this confusion is exacerbated by the fact that Wizards of the Coast markets D&D as if these are the same thing. They emphatically are not. the specific rules laid out of the D&D rulebooks actually direct players to tell a very specific kind of story. You can tell other stories if you ignore those rules (which still counts as "playing D&D" under the second definition, but doesn't under the first)And I think people in both groups are getting mad because they assume that everyone is also using their definition. For example, there's a common argument that I've seen play out many times that goes something like this:

A: "How do I mod D&D to do [insert theme here]?" B: "D&D is really not built for that, you should play [other TTRPG] that's designed for it instead" A: "But I don't want to learn a whole new game system!" B: "It will be easier to just learn a whole new system than mod D&D to do that." A: "whatever, I'll just mod D&D on my own" And I think where this argument comes from is the two groups described above completely talking past each other. No one understands what the other person is trying to say. From A's perspective, as a person in the second group, it sounds like A: "Anyone have some fun inspirations for telling stories about [insert theme here]?" B: "You can't sit around a table with your friends and tell a story about that theme! That's illegal." A: "But we want to tell a story about this theme!" B: "It's literally impossible to do that and you're a dumb idiot baby for even thinking about it." A: "whatever, jerk, I'll figure it out on my own."

--- Whereas, from B's perspective, the conversation sounds like A: "How do I change the rules of poker to be chess, and not be poker?" B: "uhhh, just play chess?" A: "But I already know how to player poker! I want to play poker, but also have it be chess!" B: "what the hell are you talking about? What does that even mean. They're completely different games." A: "I'm going to frankenstein these rules together into some kind of unplayably complex monster and you can't stop me!" ---

So both people end up coming away from the conversation thinking the other person is an idiot. And really, depending on how you concieve of what it means to "play D&D" what is being asked changes considerably. If you're only planning to look through the books for cool story inspiration, maybe borrow a cool little self contained sub-system here or there, then yeah, it's very possible to steal inspiration for your collaborative story from basically anywhere. Maybe some genres are kind of an awkward fit together, but you can make anything work with a little creativity.

If, however, you are thinking of the question in terms of frankensteining two entire board games together, then it becomes a massively difficult or even outright nonsensical idea. For example, for skill checks, the game Shadowrun has players roll a pool of several d6 at once, then count up how many rolled above a target value to see how well a character succeeded at a task. The whole game is full of specific rules about adding or removing dice from the pool, effects happening if you roll doubles, rerolling only some of the dice, and all sorts of other things that simply do not translate to rolling a single d20 for skill checks. On a basic level, the rules of the games work very differently. Trying to make them compatible would be much harder than just learning a new game from scratch. Now, neither of these approaches is exactly *wrong*, I guess, but personally, I find the rules of TTRPGs to be fascinating and worth taking the time to engage with all the weird little nuances and seeing what shakes out. Also, the first group, "TTRPG as fancy board game" is definitely the older and more widespread one. I kind of get the impression that the second group largely got into D&D through actual play podcasts, but I don't have any actual data to back that up. So, if you're in the second group, who thinks of D&D as basically a context for collaborative storytelling first and a game second, please let me know if I'm wildly misunderstanding how you approach D&D. Because I'm pretty sure it would save us a whole lot of stupid misunderstandings.

[goldfades]

i don't believe in god, but i believe that you're my savior; my mom says that she's worried, but i'm covered in this favor; and when we're getting dirty, i forget all that is wrong───PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | she was the kind of girl who lit up rooms and wrecked worlds in the same breath—a gravity too intense to resist. you’d sworn off falling, but the first time she laughed, smoke curling from her lips like an invitation to a wildfire, you were already in freefall. between stolen touches and reckless nights, you wonder if paige is your salvation or your undoing—or maybe a bit of both.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | whoo, where do i begin? very angsty (but with a happy ending!), A LOT OF religious trauma, biblical allusions, descriptions of internalized homophobia, um... idk what else?

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | okay i wanna preface this by saying... this is NOT a realistic reflection of paige because i know she is religious (i am too) but for the sake of this fic, it's just not a direct correlation. ANYWAY, i got this fic request a couple hours ago and this has been in my drafts for a while, and it's for sailor song so i decided just to mix the two. but fair warning; this is VERY self-indulgent, like super... but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless!

It started with her laugh.

Low, sharp, intoxicating—like she knew something you didn’t, and the knowing was half the fun. The sound carried through the room, brushing against your skin, leaving a warmth behind that didn’t quite fade.

You hadn’t meant to look. It was a casual glance, a passive observation of the crowd gathered in the dim light of some off-campus house party. But there she was, Paige, head tilted back, blonde hair loose and gleaming like spun gold in the chaos of flashing lights. Beautiful didn’t quite cover it. She was an image that felt ripped straight from a psalm—crafted by hands too divine to belong to this earth.

You told yourself to look away. But it was like trying to pull your gaze from the altar during a prayer; you knew better, but you stayed. Her presence burned, the kind of flame you’d always been taught to fear. And yet, the yearning rose in you like a hymn.

She held a vape pen in one hand, her other resting lazily against the kitchen counter. When she brought it to her lips and exhaled, the plume of smoke rose like incense, curling toward the low ceiling. It wasn’t just a casual gesture—it was deliberate, a communion, and you felt the weight of her gaze as she caught you staring. Her eyes—blue like stained glass on a Sunday morning—locked with yours, and in that instant, you swore she saw straight through you. Every doubt. Every prayer you’d whispered to keep yourself in line.

Your chest tightened. It felt less like a chance meeting and more like a test. A temptation. You wanted to pass. You wanted to fail.

Her smirk formed slowly, a deliberate curve of her lips that made your breath catch. She waved the pen in a lazy arc, motioning you over. Something inside you—rebellion, recklessness, or maybe just exhaustion—told you to move. So you did.

Every step toward her felt like crossing a line you’d drawn for yourself long ago. The room blurred, fading into irrelevance as you neared. She was all you could see, every detail sharper and brighter than it had any right to be. Her hoodie hung loose on her frame, the strings unevenly tugged. Her nails, painted the softest blush, tapped rhythmically against the counter.

“You always stare like that?” she asked, voice low but cutting through the din around you. Her tone was casual, but her eyes… they were anything but. They pinned you in place, unrelenting.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you fumbled for an answer. “No. I mean—sorry, I wasn’t—”

“Relax.” She leaned in, close enough that you could smell the faint mix of mint and something sweeter. “I don’t bite.” A pause, her grin widening. “Not unless you want me to.”

Your laugh came out shaky, a poor attempt at deflecting the rising tension in your chest. “Do you always talk like this?”

“Only when I’m interested.” The words landed heavy, like a confession in a darkened booth. Paige tilted her head, studying you. “What’s your name?”

You told her, and the way she repeated it back made it sound different—softer, like she was testing the weight of it in her mouth. She offered her hand, the gesture disarmingly formal. When your fingers touched, the spark was immediate, electric. You wondered if she felt it too.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her grip firm but unhurried, like she had all the time in the world to unravel you.

You didn’t have all the time in the world. That was the problem. Years of sermons and Bible studies echoed in your mind like a chorus of warnings. Narrow is the road, straight is the gate, and you were barreling down the wide, crooked path without a second thought.

“So,” Paige said, pulling you back to the present, “you drink, or are you just here for the vibes?”

“I don’t drink.” The answer came automatic, instinctive, a remnant of the rules you hadn’t yet shaken off. Paige arched an eyebrow, intrigued but not mocking.

“Interesting.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping. “Guess I’ll have to figure out what your vice is.”

The air between you felt charged, heavy with something unspoken. You tried to speak, to say anything that would keep you grounded, but nothing came. All you could do was stand there, caught in the pull of her presence.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing her vape from the counter and motioning for you to follow her. “Let’s get out of here. It’s too loud.”

You hesitated, the weight of invisible judgment pressing against you. But then she smiled—soft, earnest, utterly disarming—and the resistance crumbled. It felt wrong, undeniably so. But it also felt like freedom.

So you followed.

The night air hit you like a baptism, cool and sobering after the crowded haze of the party. Paige walked ahead of you, her hands shoved into her hoodie pockets, her steps unhurried. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure you were still there, flashing you a smile that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

You kept a few paces behind, your mind a storm of contradictions. Everything about this felt dangerous, like stepping into a story you’d been warned against since you were a child. But there was something magnetic about her, something that made you ignore the small, insistent voice in the back of your head telling you to turn back. She moved like she owned the night, and for a moment, you wondered if maybe she did.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice a little too high, a little too thin.

“Someplace quiet,” she said, not turning around. “Don’t worry, I’m not a serial killer.”

“That’s exactly what a serial killer would say.”

She laughed, and it was soft this time, less sharp-edged than before. “Fair point. But I think you’re safe with me. Trust me?”

You didn’t answer, but the fact that you kept walking was its own reply. Paige led you down a winding street lined with trees, the leaves whispering in the breeze like they were in on some divine secret. You felt like a lamb being led away from the flock, the shepherd nowhere in sight. But instead of fear, all you felt was the thrill of it—the breaking of the rules, the stepping out of bounds.

Eventually, she stopped in front of a small park, deserted except for a few streetlights casting pale pools of light over the benches. She sat on one of them, her legs sprawled out casually, and gestured for you to join her.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before sitting, careful to leave a polite amount of space between you. Paige noticed and smirked, shifting slightly so your knees almost touched. The proximity made your pulse quicken.

“Relax,” she said, pulling the vape pen out of her pocket and twirling it between her fingers. “I don’t bite, remember?”

You tried to smile, but it felt stiff, unnatural. “Not unless I want you to, right?”

Paige’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Exactly. You’re catching on.” She brought the vape to her lips, taking a long drag before exhaling. The smoke curled lazily in the air, illuminated by the glow of the streetlight. She tilted her head, studying you. “So, what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah. You’re giving off… I don’t know. Saintly vibes.” Her tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity in her eyes. “Like you stepped out of some Catholic school choir.”

You stiffened, the words hitting closer to home than she could’ve known. “I… grew up religious.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Religious, huh? Like, church every Sunday, Bible verses on the fridge, all that?”

You nodded, a tightness creeping into your chest. “Pretty much.”

She leaned back, her expression unreadable. “And now?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t a question you liked answering, mostly because you didn’t know the answer yourself. “Now… I don’t know. I guess I’m figuring it out.”

Paige nodded slowly, her gaze softening. “That’s fair. Takes time to unlearn all that, right?”

The word unlearn felt heavy, like it carried a weight you weren’t ready to unpack. You looked down at your hands, suddenly unsure of what to do with them. “Something like that.”

For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of traffic. Then Paige spoke, her voice quieter this time. “You know, I used to go to church too.”

Your head snapped up, surprise flickering across your face. “You did?”

She nodded, exhaling another plume of smoke. “Yeah. My grandma made me go. Every Sunday, no exceptions. I hated it back then. All the rules, all the guilt… it was suffocating.” She paused, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “But now, I don’t know. Sometimes I miss it.”

“Miss it?” The idea seemed foreign, almost impossible. “Why?”

Paige shrugged. “I guess… it was nice, believing in something bigger than yourself. Feeling like someone up there gave a damn about you.” She looked at you, her eyes searching. “You ever feel like that?”

You wanted to say no, wanted to deny it outright. But the truth was, you had felt that once. Before the doubts, before the questions, before the endless weight of trying to reconcile who you were with who you were supposed to be. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “I don’t know.”

Paige nodded, as if she understood. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty damn interesting. Religious trauma and all.” She grinned, her teasing tone returning. “Maybe I’ll save you.”

The words hung in the air, light and joking, but they hit you harder than you cared to admit. You looked at her, the girl who seemed to embody everything you’d been taught to fear, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was right.

And that’s how this whole thing began—the beginning of the end.

It wasn’t a relationship, not exactly. It wasn’t even a proper friendship. You weren’t sure what to call it. Some blurry, undefined space where your worlds collided—recklessly, beautifully, disastrously. Paige would text you late at night, a simple you up? and before you even had time to think, you’d find yourself in her orbit again. Her dorm, a parked car, that same park bench. The locations changed, but the pattern didn’t.

She kissed like she had something to prove, like she knew exactly what you wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it. And God, did you let her take it. Every time. Every brush of her lips, every tug at the edges of your carefully constructed world, it left you breathless. Empty. Full. You couldn’t tell anymore.

You told yourself it was just physical—nothing more than a release. But that was a lie, and you both knew it. Especially when she’d pull away and rest her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your cheek, her voice soft in the stillness.

“You okay?” she’d ask, her tone full of something that felt too much like care.

You’d nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Fine. That was another lie. You weren’t fine. You were far from it. Every time you left her, slipping back into the quiet safety of your own bed, you could feel the guilt clawing at your chest like a living thing. It whispered in your ear, cruel and relentless, reminding you of every rule you were breaking, every promise you were shattering.

But the worst part? You reveled in it. There was a twisted kind of freedom in the guilt, like stepping into a storm and letting it drench you. It was messy and terrifying and so far removed from the pristine, polished version of yourself you’d been raised to be. With Paige, you weren’t the good girl anymore. You weren’t the dutiful daughter or the pious believer. You were raw, unfiltered, unapologetically human. And you hated how much you loved it.

┈┈┈

One night, after another one of those late-night texts, you found yourself sprawled on Paige’s bed, your head resting against her chest as her fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm. The room smelled faintly of her lavender laundry detergent and the minty vape she always carried. It should’ve been calming, but it wasn’t. Not tonight.

“You’re quiet,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek. “Nothing. Just tired.”

“Liar.” Her fingers paused, and she tilted her head to look at you. “You’ve got that look again.”

“What look?”

“That I’m feeling guilty as hell but too stubborn to admit it look.”

Her words hit too close to home, and you shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She sighed, her hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was too tender, too intimate. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You closed your eyes, the weight of her gaze almost too much to bear. “I don’t think you’d understand.”

“Try me.”

The room felt heavy, the air thick with unspoken words. You didn’t want to say it, but the truth was clawing its way out, demanding to be heard. “I just… I can’t stop feeling like this is wrong. Like I’m wrong.”

Paige stiffened beneath you, the softness in her expression giving way to something sharper. “Wrong? What does that even mean?”

You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest. “It means this. Us. Everything. It’s not… it’s not what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Says who?” Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now, a defensiveness you’d never heard before.

You looked at her, your throat tightening. “Everyone. My parents. My pastor. God.”

The word hung between you like a curse, and Paige let out a bitter laugh, sitting up as well. “God? Really? You think God’s sitting up there, keeping score of who you kiss?”

“It’s not just that,” you said, your voice cracking. “It’s everything. The lying, the sneaking around, the… the way I feel about you. It’s too much.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, but instead of the defensiveness you expected, she exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing. “Look, I might not be the most religious,” she began, her voice steady but gentle, “but I don’t think God’s sitting up there keeping some cosmic tally of who you kiss or how you feel. That’s not love. That’s control.”

Her words made you flinch, and she reached out, her hand brushing yours lightly before pulling back. “You grew up being told He’s this all-powerful, all-knowing being, right? So, if He’s that big, that perfect, then don’t you think He’s got room for you, too? For… this?” She gestured between the two of you, her voice softening. “I mean, if God is love, doesn’t that include the kind you feel for me?”

Your throat tightened, and you felt the tears coming before you could stop them. Paige saw, but she didn’t shy away. Instead, she leaned in, her voice dropping even lower, like she was sharing a secret just for you. “You’re not broken. You’re not wrong. And you sure as hell don’t need saving. Not from me. Not from anyone.”

For a fleeting moment, the knot in your chest loosened. Paige’s words were like a salve, soothing the ache you’d carried for so long. She made it sound so simple—love as something pure and whole, untainted by judgment or shame. You wanted to believe her. God, you wanted to.

And for a moment, you did. You let yourself lean into her warmth, let yourself imagine a version of this where you could breathe freely, unburdened by guilt. But it didn’t last. The weight of your upbringing—the sermons, the warnings, the whispered prayers for deliverance—settled back over you like a heavy cloak.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “Maybe God doesn’t care. But I do.”

Paige frowned, her brows furrowing. “Why?”

“Because it’s not just about Him,” you said, your hands clutching your knees tightly. “It’s about everything. My parents. My community. The person I’ve spent my whole life trying to be.”

Her face softened, and she reached for your hand again, her grip firm and grounding. “But what about the person you are? The one sitting right here, right now?”

You couldn’t answer. Or maybe you didn’t want to. The truth felt too raw, too messy to say out loud.

Paige sighed, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Look, I get that this is complicated for you. But you deserve to love and be loved without feeling like you’re doing something wrong. And if no one’s ever told you that before, then I’m telling you now.”

Her words lingered, wrapping around you like a safety net. You wanted to fall into it, to let her catch you. But the ground beneath you still felt too shaky, too uncertain.

So you stayed quiet, letting her hold your hand while the silence stretched between you. It wasn’t resolution, but it was something. And for now, that was all you could handle.

Over the weeks that followed, something began to shift. Paige didn’t press you, didn’t demand answers you weren’t ready to give. Instead, she stayed patient, like she understood the weight you carried better than anyone ever had. She didn’t push you to talk about your guilt, but she made space for you when you did. Slowly, you began to let her in.

It started small. A whispered confession in the quiet of her dorm. A memory shared over takeout cartons and late-night reruns of shows you’d never admit to liking. The walls you’d spent years building began to crumble, piece by piece, under her steady gaze and unflinching kindness.

One night, as you lay sprawled on her couch, the conversation wandered back to the topic you’d both been skirting around for days.

“Do you ever think about leaving it all behind?” Paige asked, her voice soft but curious.

“Leaving what behind?”

She tilted her head toward you. “The guilt. The rules. The version of yourself you’re so scared to let go of.”

You didn’t answer right away. You traced the pattern of the couch cushion beneath your fingers, searching for words that wouldn’t come. Finally, you sighed. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” she said. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be as complicated as you think.”

The conversation stuck with you. Paige didn’t have all the answers, but she had a way of making you feel like you could find them yourself. She challenged you to ask questions you’d spent years avoiding, to rethink the parts of your faith that had been weaponized against you.

“I don’t think you have to throw it all away,” she said one night, her voice careful, deliberate. “Your faith, I mean. Maybe it just needs to look different. More… you. I never left that religious part of my life, I just... made it more me.”

You didn’t know what that meant yet, but the idea of redefining your faith—of making it your own—felt like a spark in the darkness.

For the first time in years, you began to feel something that resembled peace. There were moments, fleeting but powerful, where you allowed yourself to be happy without questioning if you deserved it. Moments when Paige’s laugh lit up a room, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her. Moments when she kissed you, and the world went quiet, and the only thing that mattered was her hands in your hair and her breath against your skin.

It wasn’t perfect. The guilt didn’t disappear overnight. It still crept in, especially when you were alone, whispering that you were wrong, broken, sinful. But it didn’t consume you the way it used to.

Because now, there was something stronger than the guilt. There was Paige. And there was you. The version of you she saw—the one who deserved love, who could rewrite the rules, who didn’t have to apologize for existing.

And maybe, just maybe, that version of you was worth believing in.

Falling in love with Paige wasn’t a dramatic, earth-shattering event. It wasn’t fireworks or grand declarations or sudden epiphanies. It was quieter than that, gentler. Like the tide rolling in, it happened so naturally, so effortlessly, that you didn’t even realize it was happening until you were already submerged.

It was in the small things—the way she’d instinctively hold your hand during a scary part of a movie, her thumb drawing lazy circles on your skin. The way she always knew when you needed space and when you needed her closer, as if she could read the thoughts you couldn’t put into words. The way she’d say your name, softly, like it was her favorite word.

You started noticing how her laugh could fill a room, making even the dullest moments feel alive. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved—basketball, her dog back home, or the time she convinced her whole team to wear matching Crocs. Paige had this way of making the ordinary extraordinary, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

She never tried to fix you, never made you feel like you were some puzzle that needed solving. She just saw you—the real you, the messy, complicated, guilt-ridden you—and loved you anyway.

Paige’s love wasn’t flashy or conditional or based on expectations. It was steady, like a heartbeat, a rhythm you could count on even when everything else felt uncertain.

It wasn’t in the grand gestures but in the little moments. Like when she brought you coffee the exact way you liked it, without asking. Or when she remembered the names of the books you’d mentioned in passing and bought you one “just because.” It was in the way she’d text you random memes during the day, just to make you laugh, and the way she’d listen—really listen—when you spoke about your fears, your dreams, your past.

One night, you found yourself lying beside her, the room lit only by the faint glow of her bedside lamp. She was doodling something on your arm with her finger, her touch light and absentminded.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice soft.

“Drawing stars,” she said with a grin. “Because you’re my universe.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your face. “That’s so cheesy.”

“Yeah, but it made you smile,” she shot back, her voice full of playful confidence.

And it did. She always did.

As you lay there, her head resting against your shoulder, you realized that this—she—made you feel complete in a way you hadn’t even known was possible. Paige loved you in a way that felt so simple, so natural, that it made you question everything you’d ever believed about love.

You used to think you were hard to love. That you came with too much baggage, too many rules, too much you. But with Paige, there was no effort, no hesitation. She loved you like it was breathing, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And for the first time, you began to wonder if maybe she was right. If maybe love didn’t have to be hard or painful or earned. If maybe, just maybe, it could be as simple as this.

Over time, the love between you grew, not in explosive leaps but in quiet, steady steps. It wasn’t just the way she kissed you or held your hand. It was in the way she made you laugh until your sides hurt, the way she celebrated your victories, big or small, like they were her own. It was in the way she never gave up on you, even when you struggled to believe in yourself.

It wasn’t perfect. You weren’t perfect. But Paige made you feel like you didn’t have to be. She made you feel whole, even in the moments when you felt broken.

And as you fell deeper into this love—this easy, unconditional love—you began to realize something else. You weren’t just falling in love with her. You were starting to fall in love with yourself, too.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[star--stilinski]

EVERYONE. GUESS WHAT. @obriengf AND I ARE HAVING A SPRING WEDDING AND YOU'RE ALL INVITED BECAUSE THEY FOUND THIS FIC. ALL TOGETHER MY ANONS SAY "THANK YOU JEMMA" AND GO READ HER FIC ABOUT STILES BEING DAD MATERIAL. IT'S ONE OF THE STILES FIC GOATS. OMG. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH JEMMA.

☆

you're practically vibrating with nerves when you approach stiles' front door, wearing your favorite date night dress and holding a small container of home baked cookies.

sure, you've met noah stilinski in passing. but you hadn't really met him met him and part of you was grateful. it would be so awkward if you were familiar with the sheriff (for the wrong reasons) and he turned out to be your boyfriend's dad.

you only have to knock twice for stiles to swing the door open. he's smiling, a bit disheveled, and he's got... flour on his face?

"hey, come on in, we were just finishing up dinner. what's in the box?" he ushers you inside and leads you through his home, stopping just before the kitchen to smile down at you.

"oh, just a little something to ensure parental approval." you joke, shaking the tupperware gently. stiles laughs and wastes no more time taking the container out of your hands to set on a nearby hallway table, pulling you into a hug. you inhale his scent deeply and feel him do the same to you, squeezing you tightly against him.

"you smell nice." he mumbles into your hair. "missed you."

"you saw me yesterday."

"yeah, and i missed you afterwards. okay, come on." he kisses the top of your head and pulls back, hands sliding down your arms to hold your hand. "burnt pasta awaits."

you don't dare ask how he burnt the pasta when stiles turns a corner and leads you into the very room his dad is standing, mixing a pot of penne pasta. he looks up and smiles politely when he sees you, and you do your best to return the smile with confidence (and not fear of rejection).

"dad," stiles hums excitedly, "this is my girlfriend. girlfriend, dad."

"nice to meet you, sir." you hum. you step forward and shake his hand, meeting his eyes.

"ah, the pleasure's all mine." his handshake is firm and he's grinning kind of like stiles does when he's about to make fun of you. "my son won't shut up about you, it was about time."

you blush and laugh, glancing back at stiles, who snakes his arms around your waist and presses his cheek to the side of your head. "that's very true, she's already gotten that comment from scott."

eyes widening, you feel even hotter with embarrassment. stiles is acting like a theme park couple, one of his hands squeezing your waist where he knows it tickles. you squeak and jump back, wiggling out of his arms. he smiles all dopily at you.

"alright," noah claps his hands together, seemingly not even noticing the interaction. "who's ready for burnt pasta?"

you clear your throat, throwing stiles a bit of a warning look before turning your attention to noah. "i've heard about this, i'm curious to see what burnt pasta could taste like. i'd love a bowl."

noah laughs and dishes you up some, leaving you to bask silently in the victorious (accidental) joke. meanwhile, stiles tucks some of your hair behind your ear and smirks.

"me, too. we never really cook, so it's got to have something wrong with it." he turns to his dad. "dish me up some, chef!"

"you can dish some up yourself. i'm only getting it for our lovely guest." noah looks unimpressed with stiles, waving the wooden pasta spoon at him. "don't think you get off just because you have her to hide behind."

stiles makes a "wha-hey!" noise and scoffs, reluctantly grabbing himself a bowl and scooping out some pasta, bringing both of your dishes to the table. once you're all sat, you thank them both for dinner and ask noah about his work.

and you swear, on your life, you're trying to focus.

but with stiles' big, veiny hand on your thigh like a lifeline, it's a bit fucking difficult.

you know stiles likes touch. but when his fingertips are pushing the hem of your dress up a bit to caress your upper thigh? you swallow thickly. in front of his father, of all people!

you tune back in when stiles starts relaying a funny story. his unoccupied hand reaches across himself and lays on top of your hand as he gets animated, explaining scott's hilarious mistake to his dad with enthusiasm. once he finishes, his hand slides away from yours and the one on your thigh squeezes lightly. "do you guys wanna watch a movie?"

"i rented close encounters of the third kind." noah smirks, pointing at stiles. you watch as stiles gives you a bashful look.

"my dad has an affinity for alien media. you'll learn this sooner than you think."

"they're real!" noah seems only half-joking as he gathers your dishes and makes for the kitchen. "just you wait, you'll be wishing you listened to me."

"yeah, okay dad." hums your boyfriend, waiting for his dad to be out of earshot. once you're safe, he pulls his chair impossibly closer to you. "so, how's it going?"

you blink, still blushing from the whole thigh-hand thing. "oh, uhm, good. right? i think it's going alright."

he nods, standing. you follow and let him cup your face. "i think it's going great. he likes you."

"do you say that to all the girls?" you joke, letting him glance down at your mouth obviously. if stiles wants to make a move on you now that you're dating, he usually does. he hums and laughs a little, pushing your hair out of the way.

"only the pretty ones." he leans down and kisses you, briefly. by the time he's pulling back you've forgotten your manners, pulling him by the t-shirt weakly to keep going. he laughs at you, nibbling his lower lip. "when do you need to be home?"

you glance to the side. "soon, probably. how long is the movie?"

"...two and a half hours."

"yeah," you smile apologetically. "i won't make that. sorry, sti'."

"it's okay babe. my dad and i will probably talk through the whole thing. or worse, we'll kill whoever does talk. it's best if you leave on a good note. c'mon."

you follow blindly as he leads you through the house to the living room, pulling you into his side and wrapping his arms around you loosely. his dad is sat on the couch pulling up the movie, and he turns to look at you guys. he seems only mildly phased by stiles' touchiness. you blush, completely mortified at the inappropriateness of it.

"dad," stiles muses. "she's gotta go."

"ah, alright." noah slaps his thighs and stands, and stiles only moves from your side to behind you, holding your hips lightly as his father approaches. "it was so great to finally meet you. thank you for coming."

you smile and shake his hand, doing your best to ignore stiles' too-comfortable hands. "thank you for dinner, sorry i can't stay."

he shakes his head and waves like 'no problem', but he doesn't get to speak it as stiles perks up. "oh shit, the cookies! we have to try them in front of you!"

"stiles, i'm sure that's not-"

"i'll go grab them, be right back." and he's gone.

you make eye contact with sheriff stilinski, watch as he sizes you up and smiles softly. "i'm sure you're a bit put off by the touching?"

"it's... not unusual. just not so..."

"confident?"

"yes," you laugh, flustered and warm, and glance to where stiles ran off. you can both hear him rummaging around. "i'm sorry about it. i don't want you to think we're immature."

noah shakes his head. "believe it or not, it means good things. i don't know how much he talks about it, but..."

noah stilinski looks off, clenches his jaw. "stiles used to hang off of his mother like that. constantly touching, holding. he used to do it with me, too. a lot. and then, after claudia passed... he just stopped. didn't touch, even hug. the first year was the worst. he's much better, but we don't do much loving anymore. not as much as i should be."

he looks back at you, dead in your eyes. "you're the first person i've seen him so comfortable with. physically, i mean. he holds you almost exactly how he used to hang off of his mother. save for a bit of..." noah clears his throat. "romantic tendencies."

you feel your heart swell; you remember when stiles first got all touchy, that night after you had really dug in, actually had a conversation about the nitty gritty of each other. it had been the first month into dating. he had wandering hands ever since, fully subconsciously.

before you can respond (what are you supposed to say? your boyfriend's dad basically just told you that his son loves you in a way he hasn't loved anyone before), stiles comes barreling back in.

"found 'em! they were on the hallway table, imagine that!" he slings an arm over your shoulder and it makes you all fuzzy in the chest. "okay, lets try them. open the lid, babe. my hands are full."

his hand that isn't offering you the container full of cookies is too busy running through your hair. you smile and gently take the container from him, only giving him another hand to put on you.

☆

later, when he walks you to your car and kisses you goodnight, he can't stop talking about how good the night went. you smile into the kiss (he tastes like chocolate chips) and lean back against the drivers side door (his hands are on your hips your cheeks your neck your sides) as he kisses all over your jaw and cheeks and finally, your lips.

"i love you." he whispers against you as he pulls away. you can feel his hands tighten against your body. he's nervous.

"i love you too, stiles." you smile up at him, feeling your heart flutter as he leans in for more.

☆

another bad boy from the vault!! don't forget to like, subscribe, and drop into my inbox with that daydream you've been having about stiles for weeks on end. you know the one.