#anyway these are are just some of my thoughts

[karmaswhiskee]

I could never😭 I'm too picky about my writing disclaimer: I do use Grammarly, but that's because basically cannot spell.

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

[sweetcalebb]

Catching reader listening to nsfw audios hehe 😼

They catch you listening to NSFW audios ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 1.9k (~350 each boy)

a/n: there wasn't a specification on which boy, so i did my take on all of them. also a special thanks to @beaconsxd who helped me with raf's dialouge (directly quoted!!) and mannerisms. i hope it was okay!! :(

content: caleb/ zayne/ xavier/ sylus/ and rafayel x reader, some of them are pouty and whiny, obsessive, possessive, making your own videos together! <3

––

Caleb

You thought you were careful. How were you supposed to know that Caleb's earbuds would connect to your phone?

You sit there for a second, dumbly—brows furrowed with annoyance and fingers nudging at the volume button.

"What the hell?" you murmur.

You check your Bluetooth status. It says connected. But when you look closer, your cheeks burn.

They're connected. To Caleb's earbuds.

Before you can disconnect, you hear footsteps padding to your room.

Then there he is, brows furrowed and lips parted.

"What am I listening to right now?"

You scramble, turning the volume all the way down. Then you just sit there, blankly. What are you even supposed to say?

"How often do you listen to this stuff?" he asks, his voice edging with curiosity and something darker as he steps closer

"Not often..." you murmur, shrinking back into your bed like the pillows will erase the fact that you've been caught red-handed.

You want to die. This has literally been one of your worst fears since you stumbled across these NSFW audios—for someone else to connect as you're listening.

But for it to be Caleb of all people?

"I just—Sometimes I..—"

"Do you want me to make those sounds?" Caleb sits down next to you, hand twitching at his side. "Because I can. I can groan and grunt all you want. I can make videos for you."

Your chest tightens at that.

"N-no, that's not—"

"Then you wouldn't have to listen to that," he says, his voice caught between something equal parts soft and rough. Like he can't decide whether to be sweet or jealous.

"You could have me in your ear instead."

Your breath hitches. "You would seriously... make audios for me?"

Caleb nods, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours, then your jaw, then your neck. Then his hand finally slides up your side.

"I would do anything for you."

(BONUS)

Caleb really followed through. Of course he did.

Anything for you.

You could tell he had fun—could practically hear the lopsided smile in his breathy sighs and moans.

Especially when he'd grunted out the words, "M'mhah. Is this what you wanted, Pipsqueak?"

Oh yeah, he was cocky.

But the pure possession and jealousy started bleeding in through the cracks. So painfully shameless, too. He started saying things like "I'm the only one you need pips," and "Just me, just me, just me," through grunts the closer he got.

And you ate it up.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Zayne

You had a routine. Connect to your earbuds. Check once. Check twice. Check thrice.

So the last thing you expected when Zayne asked if you guys could talk was for him to bring up the NSFW audios you were listening to earlier that day.

Your cheeks burn. You don't even want to look at him.

Zayne's lips press into a thin line, frustration sharpening the edges of his face. He isn't one for jealousy. No, he's composed. Rational.

Usually, anyway.

But this?

Something about it irks him.

"What do you use it for?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intends.

"Sometimes I just listen.."

Zayne's eyes narrow. "And other times?"

You stay silent, and that's all the answer he needs. He waits a beat, like he's contemplating what to do before carefully pulling you into his lap.

"Is there something.. I lack?" His voice softens in a way he can't hide.

He brushes his lips against your temple, then your cheek, then lower still until they're at your neck, sweet, but hesitant.

"If that's what you need... then let me be the voice you listen to."

You melt, guilt flaring in your chest.

"No, you're enough.. It's just something.. for when I miss you," you say, tilting your head. "But I shouldn't use it at all."

Zayne lets out a small sigh against your neck. "No. You shouldn't. Not when I can help you."

You pause.

"In what way?"

"I could... make those for you."

"What—?" You can't help the excitement that creeps up, but you quickly beat it back down. "You don't have to—"

"I want to." Then quieter, "Will you let me?"

(BONUS)

Zayne didn't spoil you. He's too strict (he's really just shy) for that. But he did leave you one video—him gasping and huffing as he worked himself over.

Again, he's too strict (shy) to be overly vocal, but he did slip in some lines.

"I need you..."

"I... I miss you."

Then casually, after sending the audio, he texted you.

Zayne: I hope you'll listen to that when you need me.

When you need him.

Such casual wording, like he hadn't just wrecked you even more with that.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Xavier

You've never seen him like this. Not since the last time you mentioned Lumiere. And you don't even try to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

It's not even from being caught.

It's from the way he looks you—brows set in an irritated line, lips pressed in a tight line, his jaw ticking from how hard he's clenching it.

"Why do you listen to that?" he questions, carefully grabbing your phone and shutting it off. "When I'm here?"

His eyes soften a fraction, his hands slipping up your sides and pulling you close. "I don't like it.."

Your chest feels heavy. "I didn't think it mattered," you murmur.

His hold on you tightens, and you can feel the heat of his stare even though you can’t meet his eyes.

“It matters to me,” he says, softer now.

You nod, cheeks burning. “Okay… I won’t anymore. I’m sorry, Xav.”

Xavier huffs, the sound caught between relief and something else. He nudges his head against yours. "Is that what you like?" He asks, his voice quiet, like he's not sure he really wants the answer.

Quickly, he decides he doesn't want the answer. He just kisses your head and murmurs, "I can make those for you."

It almost sounds like a plea, but that edge of possessiveness comes creeping back in. "You don't need anything—or anyone else."

(BONUS)

When Xavier actually sent you the video, it surprised you. But when you listened to it, you nearly lost it.

Because the sounds?—God, the sounds.

He whimpered all soft and needy. Then, halfway through, he started asking things like "is this okay?" and "am i doing it right?" between ragged breaths.

You felt a small twinge of guilt though. When you saw him at work again; he averted your gaze and his cheeks tinted a cute pink.

Then later, when you were alone, he asked, "Did I do it right..?"

When you nodded, he smiled and said, "I'm glad."

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Sylus

"Sweetie."

You briefly glance up at Sylus as he enters the bedroom. "Yeah?"

Nothing could've prepared you for when Sylus holds up his phone, the NSFW audio you listened to yesterday on the screen.

"What is the meaning of this?"

You glance up again as he stops in front of you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. You open your mouth to explain, but all that comes out is a small breath.

Sylus tilts his head and smiles. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

"I don't... How did you..?"

"I'm not judging, sweetie. I'm just.." he glances at the screen, still smiling, "intrigued."

"I.. I just missed you."

Sylus chuckles, the sound low and rumbly. He places his phone on the nightstand before carefully dragging his hand up your arm and stopping at your cheek.

"So you imagine me when you listen to that?"

"Yes.."

Sylus hums in acknowledgment.

"Well, why listen to this when you can have the real thing?"

He thumbs at your lip, his chest tugging at the way you look right now—cheeks tinted red, eyes big and pleading, like you're praying he won't be mad at you.

"What do you mean?"

"If you listen to audios when you miss me, then perhaps I should give you something to use while I'm away." He leans forward, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Would you like that, kitten?"

"Yes.."

"Good. If you want something, just ask for it." Sylus kisses you slow. "I'll give you anything you desire as long as you talk to me."

(BONUS)

Sylus spared no expense. He didn't just send an audio. He sent a video too—claiming it was for when your mind needed a little more stimulation.

The audio—that was a whole thing on its own—soft grunts and groans that made heat pool in your stomach and your legs squeeze together.

But the video?

The video made you think he missed his calling on some raunchy site with the way he worked himself over, deliberately slow at first, then faster, your name spilling past his lips like it's sacred.

Then came his text.

Sylus: Will that suffice?

Sylus: If you ever need more—of anything, not just this—say the word and it's yours.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Rafayel

Rafayel hasn't talked to you in 30 minutes. He's been sitting there with his arms crossed and his lips pursed in his signature pout.

Then finally, "Do you even love me?"

You let out a quiet breath. "Of course I do!"

"What does that faceless man have that I don't?" he presses, eyes narrowed in a way that makes guilt curl in your chest.

"Nothing, Raf..! I—I'm sorry.. I only listen to that type of stuff when I miss you.."

"You should call me if you miss me so much.." he mutters, the tension slowly bleeding out of his shoulders when he sees the way your frown deepens.

He can never stay mad at you too long.

Rafayel sighs, gesturing for you to come closer. When you do, he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. "So that's the kinda stuff you like, huh?"

"Not necessarily... I just—I picture you."

There's a beat of silence, then he pulls back to look at you. "You picture me?" he echoes.

You nod.

He smiles, briefly. Just briefly. Then it's gone again, like he's still trying to hold on to whatever semblance of a grudge that he can.

"But I can give you everything you need," he murmurs. "You don't need to look anywhere else."

"I know, I'm sorry. I won't do it anymore."

He seems to soften even more at that. Then quietly, with his lips pressing into your collar, he says, "We could make our own audios." His lips trail up your neck. "Together."

You practically melt into a puddle right then and there. "You'd want to do that?"

Rafayel nods, lips traveling higher now. "So we can both have something to listen to when we miss each other." His grip on you tightens. "Maybe we can make more than just audios."

Your heart beats wildly in your ears. "Now?"

Rafayel nods, slowly grabbing your phone from your pocket and handing it to you. "When else, cutie?"

(BONUS)

You didn't just make audios together, you made videos too.

Plural.

Videos.

Rafayel wouldn't admit how much it actually bothered him that you listened to another guy's voice just to... what? He didn't even ask what you used them for. But it bothered him.

So, you guys made lengthy videos together.

He didn't stop after that, though. No, he started making more audios just for you. You didn't ask, he just did it.

You had a full album's worth of them.

And after that, the only NSFW audios you listened to were his.

––

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tags: @exe-toby @seungkwansflower @floatinginaer @halfawakeblobbu @heartyluv @starryeyed-apple @asiatic-apple @walrusbreath @sylvieisoffline @awquaz @purpleamethyst25 @pinksaiyans @haleaf @politefawn @colonelpantysniffer @villainessobsessed @lioria @inlovewithsylus @tired7o7 @justwinginglife @itsmysmut @bitewiththis @littleboomerang @aenishas @inzayneforaj @opalesquegirl @sudenuryg @lamogliedizayne @rurushow @viviiswrr-d @rina-lidou @puppytruther @animegamerfox @00haru00 @thelittlebutton @lilacsandhysteria @syncaleb @meulilac @honeymoonfleur @stargirlygirl @peachlycheetea @calebsbabyapple @goochfiddler99 @lewdcifer778 @minivia @bidisasterforevermore @c-l-stinnett @thesevro @mindnumbed @alysaria @destinysrequiem @twilightsmissingfur

(some of u only wanted to be tagged for certain boys. do u still want to be tagged for these types of post where it's all lads boys? let me know 🫶🏻)

[thattheatricaltwink]

Something I think about sometimes as a transmasc is the contrast between the stereotype of how transmascs and trans men are so often viewed through the lens of “girls (or ‘girls’) who want to be boys”, and my experience growing up of feeling like a boy who wished desperately that he could be a girl. But, knowing deep down on some level that I wasn’t one and couldn’t be one, no matter how much I wanted to be. And perhaps my experience is complicated by growing up intersex, and not really going through what people think of as a complete “normal girl puberty”, so that’s something to consider when looking back on my experiences with gender.

But, I’ve seen a lot of people, transmascs and (occasionally) non transmascs alike talk about the transmasc experience of Wishing You Were A Boy and rarely seen anyone else talk about the transmasc experience of Wishing You Were A Girl, and frankly, I feel like a lot of cis allies are unaware that this is a thing for some transmascs. I’ve seen people talk about internalized transphobia broadly a bit more often, sure, but this is a slightly more distinct feeling than simply wishing I was “normal” and able to blend in, and therefore not trans, and therefore a cis girl by default. I’m not really sure how to describe it. Like, before I even knew that being trans was a concept that existed at all, before I consciously ever thought “I feel like a boy” or knew that was something I could be, I remember thinking often “I wish I could be a Real Girl” but knowing that I felt like an imposter. There was an intense yearning for Girlhood, but a knowledge that Girlhood was on a shelf just out of my reach- despite not having any idea whatsoever as to why, at the time.

Maybe this doesn’t make a lot of sense, I only slept 4 hours and my head isn’t exactly screwed on straight. But I’m sharing this anyway, hoping that someone else out there will see it and resonate and know that they aren’t alone. I also think it’s worth mentioning that I find it interesting how gender dysphoria can manifest so differently for everyone who is affected by it.

[postoctobrist]

when JD vance was a candidate for senate I was driving a sample back to the lab from far away. I was very tired, road hypnotized, on uppers, and had to piss like a racehorse. I had read Vance's book and thought he was a fucking bastard because he's from a basically identical background and town as me and it was like hearing someone do noble savage missionary talk but about the place you're both from. I hated that man before he was a republican. when I stop to piss on the road, I often try to do so behind abandoned buildings (there's a lot in Ohio) into bushes because if I stop at a gas station I'll buy something, and I also don't want to speak to anyone or see or hear anyone. Plus, I enjoy free pissing. free pissing is liberating and grounds me to the earth. I stopped behind an abandoned pizza hut with the fucked up pizza hut roof I often piss behind, completely zonked out of my gourd, just by habit. and I see there's a bit of activity. there's a fucking bus there. it's vance's tour bus. he was doing some sort of campaign event I guess. some slob was opening some dumb bullshit at this former pizza hut and for some reason this was considered a decent photo op by vance. I see him inside the pizza hut as I pulled in. saw his name on the bus. and I pissed on it. all up and down the door crack, along the like storage cabinet things, in a pool right in front of the door. I can piss really hard due to the urethral sounding and also the ammount of white monster energy I drank at that time which I think causes your kidneys to work harder. anyway, the vice president of the united states has, in all likelihood, touched my piss.

my god I think I love you

[anon-188]

starved

pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 0.5k

summary: he’s superman everywhere else. but with you? he’s just a man starved.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), oral (f!receiving), overstimulation. 

a/n: it’s official. i’m irreversibly down bad for this man.

Clark Kent is a munch and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Doesn’t matter if he’s had a good day or a bad one—his head between your thighs makes any day better.

The worst part? He thinks about it constantly.

Like when he’s at work, sitting at his desk at the Daily Planet. Head tilted into his hand, elbow balanced on the armrest, leg bouncing as he stares blankly at the screen in front of him. He’s not typing. Not listening.

Not even hearing Jimmy call his name the first—or third—time.

“Clark? Did you hear me?” Jimmy asks as he steps into view, waving a file in his hand. And for a man with super hearing, you’d think Clark would’ve heard him anyway.

But not when the sound of you is louder.

Not when your voice is still echoing in his head, saying his name like a prayer and a warning all at once. Begging for more, for less, for everything in between.

“Clark?” Jimmy says again.

Only then does Clark turn toward him, slow and dazed like he’s been pulled from somewhere far away. His expression softens into that mild, sheepish smile, the one that gets him out of most things. But even that feels distracted.

“What is going on with you?” Jimmy asks as he drops the file on the desk.

He means it like a joke, but Clark doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t explain. Just shifts in his chair and murmurs something noncommittal, already drifting back into thought.

That conversation happens more than once. Maybe too many times in a single day.

When Clark finally gets where he’s been aching to be—when his lips press into you and his tongue tastes the very thing that’s haunted his every thought—he moans. Deep in his throat, like something inside him just clicked into place.

Like this was exactly what his day had been missing.

And he doesn’t stop.

Not until he’s had enough. That part he’s relentless about. 

No matter how many times your legs tremble around his shoulders or how breathless your pleas become, he keeps going. 

You squirm. You always do. Hands twisted in his hair, fingernails dragging over his scalp, mouth dropping open as you say some of the most sinful things he’d never dare repeat. Not even in his own head.

Of course, he could hold you still. You both know that.

One hand on your waist, one against the mattress, and you wouldn’t move an inch.

But he doesn’t.

Because he likes it better when you buck your hips in desperation, like you really believe it’s going to make him let up.

Matter of fact, he loves every single part of it.

The knocked-over lamp. The sheets pulled halfway off the bed. The way your breath catches and breaks apart as you come undone for him—again and again. Each time more wrecked than the last.

The reason Clark Kent eats pussy like a man starved?

Because it’s the only time he lets go. 

The only time he stops worrying about the world, the weight on his shoulders, the secrets in his chest.

Because when he’s between your thighs—lips slick, moaning into you like he’s found something holy—he doesn’t have to be Superman.

He just has to be yours.

And all he cares about is the way you taste. The way you sound. The way he could stay there for hours, days, forever—and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Not even close.

please do not repost, copy, or claim my work as your own.

• tag list: open!

if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! i’m happy to do it! :) just let me know if you want all works or just for specific characters <3

• links: masterlist | wattpad | summer request fest

[pr1nceofg0tham]

what do you need from me tonight? .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪

i don’t care if you’re sick, i don’t care if you’re contagious.

𖥔 summary since befriending tim drake you have known exactly how he feels about his brothers: offlimits, forbidden, do not enter! this was never too difficult to maintain, never too hard to turn away when one smiles a little too bright, yet when sweet and sultry jason walks into the room it become harder to turn the other cheek.

𖥔 pairing jason todd x reader

𖥔 genre/tw best friends brother au!! fem!reader !! reader is tim’s bff, fluff! angst?! probably suggestive at times i can’t lie, intoxication, swearing !! jason is a softie, none of that charmer fuck boy jason here!! petnames, kissing, reader and jason are real yearners !! reader and tim are supposed to be like 21-22 which puts Jason at like 25-26 or so (in my mind) batfam mentions and cameos! we love!! librarian!jason !! historian!reader !! tim and reader are platonic soulmates <3 also tim calls reader chicken, idk why!! also thers gonna be typos and run on sentences probably (i blacked out)

𖥔 w/c 8.3k and some change

𖥔 a/n this came to me in a dream… idk i just feel like tim has such strong protective girl bestie vibes so this is what happened. i love tim and reader and reader and jason and i really hope you do too!! lemme know xoxo

masterlist | requests open!!

Since the moment you became friends with Tim Drake, you understood his brothers were completely off limits. It was apparent in how he would go out of his way to not mention them by name—only my brother this or my brothers that—it was in the look of pure disgust when someone would bring up just how hot his oldest brother was when he showed up on the news: alerting the public not to be worried about some crime in Blüdhaven. Even you, his best friend since the trauma of Philosophy 204 bonded you together, were not allowed to ask about them without a deadly glare shooting your way.

You understood, if you had a famous family full of wealthy handsome boys, you too would want to keep them aware from your friends. You shudder at the thought of some girl asking if your brother was single, thus whenever Tim gives you attitude about it, you allow yourself to laugh it off. It wasn’t until the summer between Freshman and Sophomore year that you were even allowed near Wayne Manor, and into the lives of his illustrious family. 

Now, five years into your friendship, you could say that you’ve fit yourself into Tim’s life quite nicely. Being his favorite lady, you’re often his date to galas and Sunday brunches with the wives of Wayne Enterprises, The person who comes along when Bruce says “you can bring a friend”, and most special, who he turns to when one of his brothers annoys him. Like now, 

“I just don’t know why I’m suddenly Damian’s chauffeur," Tim says, a familiar annoyance seeping from his voice. “Like, my father has billions of dollars yet I have to be the one to drive my little brother around, come on.” 

You laugh, but the easy way in which he talks about his family’s wealth brings a bad taste to your mouth… You, a girl born and raised in the lower sector of Gotham, find it quite gross how easy your friend throws his money around sometimes, which you remind him with a swat on the back of his head. “Hey! what the fuck was that for?” He exclaims with a laugh. 

“Timothy, you know better than to be all waspy when I’m around…” you sigh, “and anyway, it’s not like Damian goes anywhere but the library and the planetarium… he's just a kid.”

“A kid who threatens to poison me if I don’t buy him bug juice—which I gotta say he is getting too old for.” 

“Ahh, Timmy, are you just sad about your baby brother growing up?” You say, pouting your lips in the exact way you know annoys him. 

You’ve always thought it’s funny how annoyed Tim gets about Damian, a boy who’s only ever sweet to you—asking you about your favorite animals and telling you about the new exhibits at Gotham’s Natural History Museum. “I don’t get why it's so terrible, Dami’s just a sweetheart,”

“Ugh, maybe to you,” Tim replies, “he just thinks you’re cool cause you work at the Historical Society and you make fun of me,”

“Well, there’s a lot to make fun of.”

“Ha.Ha. Real funny guess who's uninvited to Dick’s birthday party.” With this, you pause. It’s true that most of the parties surrounding Tim’s family are unnecessarily boring and involve fitting into a tight dress and making your hair look presentable. There’s been quite a few times when you’ve wished that Tim would go with someone else and gift you the reprieve from a drawn out conversation with a doctor or a politician, (or whoever else Mr. Wayne invites to drum up philanthropy). However, you look forward to Dick’s birthday every year; a night filled with laughter and sweet drinks, getting to see Dick and his girlfriend Kory get a little too drunk and attempt to do gymnastics on the club’s dancefloor… Even better, it’s the one chance you really get to see Jason, Tim’s older and outcasted brother.. 

You remember the first time you met him, a Friday dinner you accompanied Tim to… It was the one night a week Alfred was free from dinner duty, thus the two of you had brought chinese and gelato for dessert and Damian kept pestering you about bringing him to the Zoo to see the snakes. 

You had already met everyone else, Dick with his charming smile and the spark in his eyes when he pulled your chair out (you’re sure it had more to do with annoying his brother than being a gentleman,) You’d met Duke when he followed his brother into university becoming a welcome third to your little group, and his father–Initmaditing and encompassing Bruce Wayne, but you’d never met Jason. 

You’d heard about him, heard the sighs from his father when he noticed his second son hadn’t shown up… Watched the careful way he was spoken about by his family, in past tenses and thinly veiled sadness. Tim had rarely brought him up to you, barely mentioning how there was some sort of accident, how it destroyed their father and separated Jason from himself and his family. 

You never liked seeing your best friend sad, it hurt too much to see his blue eyes gloss over, so you never brought him up, yet you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t curious. You remember seeing it on the news, the day that Jason Todd went missing… It wasn’t surprising to hear about a missing boy–living in Gotham meant a new tragedy every day–yet, you remember being shocked that something would happen to that bright young boy, grinning ear to ear in the school picture the news showed. 

You were only twelve, but you can think back and see so vividly the magic behind that smile, and how sad you were to realize that this boy, who could have very well gone to school with your sister, was gone… How sad he must be, you remember thinking, to be without his family. 

He was quite the mystery to you, more so after becoming friends with Tim, his brother who would so rarely mention him. It was when you saw him slouching at the dinner table and arguing with Dick, that your curiosity came back, you couldn’t believe it–he was so handsome, prettier than the newspaper made him look, and so tall, but you remembered Tim… Remembered how upset he got when Hannah Beauchamp asked him for his brother’s telephone number, so all you did was smile and say hello. 

After that you saw Jason more often, always quiet, always bright, but it was still glaringly rare… You never knew when he’d be there, unlike Dick who is unquestionable in his loyalty to family functions, Jason could be everywhere and nowhere all at once. Thus, the only surefire way to see him, is to go to Dick’s birthday, a gathering that Jason always appears at, showing his rare smile and a rare wish to his big brother. 

You can’t be uninvited, you really can’t be… 

“Timmy, you know I love you,” you say, giggling at the way his nose scrunches, “Please let me go with you to Dick’s party? Please please please!! I didn’t mean it, it’s so hard to make fun of you!” 

You know you’ve won when his head tilts, nose sticking straight up like an aristocrat in a children’s novel, you know you’ve won because he sighs into a sweet smile–bringing his hand up to muss your hair. 

“You know I can’t go anywhere without you, Chicken.” At his words you unceremoniously jump at him, encircling him into your grasp and squealing out ‘thank you’s.’ “But,” you groan. “You have to come with me tonight… If I have to hear Damian go on and on about Casseiopeia, you do too.” 

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ 

The party was in full force when you arrived, music blaring, couples kissing, the whole nine; It smelled like sweat and tequila, and fancy perfume, and you wished you could feel this way more often.

Tim doesn’t like going out, doesn’t feel safe bringing you out into the Gotham nightlife–your best friend, sweet and loyal and protective, over his family, over you… You know he’s just looking out for you, but the frustrated sighs and the “that place isn’t safe for a little Chicken like you,” get exhausting. He gets frustrated when you go out by yourself, insistent that your group of girls would be much safer if you guys partied at home, yet he never seems to have a problem if his brothers are there too… more eyes on you, he says when you ask. 

Still, you wouldn’t trade him for the world–how lucky were you, that your best friend cared so much… 

He had gasped when he picked you up, a caricature of your sisters and girlfriends: he squealed and told you he loved your dress, (as if he wasn’t the one who paid for it), a routine that was familiar and warm. He’d driven you both himself, complaining about traffic and assholes who don’t use their blinker, he was telling you about his day and the “insolent” acts Damian committed at school. It was rather nice, just you and Tim listening to shitty pop-punk and laughing, a familiar scene that’s gotten rarer and rarer as his responsibilities have piled on. 

He had squeezed your hand before getting out of the car, smiling at you with earnest eyes and a mischievous grin, and told you: “If Dick’s friend Wally hits on you, tell him I still have the pictures from last summer.” 

You were a ball of nerves in the elevator, stomach dropping as it went up, up, up to the Penthouse, shying away from the stares and whispers that follow Tim around. But now, encased in house music and the saccharine smell of young lust and birthday magic, your anxiety eases and the smile you send your best friend’s way is finally sincere. 

He takes your hand to lead you through the erratic rhythm of dancing bodies, sending dirty looks to men who look at you too long, leading you through the suite like he’s Orpheus on a mission. He doesn’t turn back to smile at you until you’ve reached your destination, the large rooftop patio where the pool lives, here you find Dick–front flipping into the pool fully clothed. His form is perfect, spinning into the water with a ballerina like elegance, a visage so striking against the electronica pumping through the night. 

He comes up for air with far less grace, however, shaking his hair out like a dog and yelling at Kory to join him. When he sees his little brother, his face breaks into the most earth-shattering smile, before he breaks into senseless giggles–telling everyone, “You guys! My baby brother Timmy is here!” 

Tim, a boy who loves his brothers more than anyone except maybe you, grins at the older boy's voice–pulling you along to greet him properly. 

“Happy birthday, Dick!” You tell him, voice raising to be heard over the music and the squealing euphoria of his guests.

“Oh my! Timmy’s little Chicken is here!” Dick’s fondness for you is no surprise, as a professional older brother it is his job to love everyone his siblings love. “Jason! Look who's here!”

It's almost comical how fast you look up, how curious you are to see him, so curious you don’t hear Tim’s sigh or the way his hold on your arm tightens. Like Magic, Jason stands in front of you, leaning against a wall like a poor parody of James Dean. He looks a bit put out, a little annoyed to be interrupted in what looks like a riveting conversation with Roy Harper– a man you’ve only ever met through Tim’s phone on nights when he goes out without you. 

“Hey guys,” He says, friendly enough yet you can’t help but notice how much tenser he looks now that Tim stands before him. “Timmy, I heard you’re taking up more and more roles at Dad’s,” he sounds strained, but it’s obvious that he’s trying. 

“Yeah, our little baby brother is awesome, Bird, but let’s not forget it’s my turn to receive your  compliments.” Dick exclaims, panting a bit from treading water. 

“Yeah, yeah, Dickie, you just gotta wait for it, man.” Jason says, before turning back to Roy, you know at once that their exchange is over, you’re not sure what happened… It seems almost like Tim and Jason fought, niceties were exchanged, yes, but the look in their eyes: exhausted and awkward, says more than the short conversation they shared. 

They get like this sometimes, a phenomenon you don’t quite understand… You’ve witnessed moments where they seem like best friends, joking and joining together in teasing Damian, yet there's other times… Moments like this, when it seems like there's years of separation and frustration between them. 

You can feel Tim pulling you away, his hold on your hand a little tighter than you would like it to be… You can hear Dick yelling at him to stay, ‘the waters nice and warm,’ he yells, yet it's obvious he’s not too worried about it once Kory swims over to him. More than anything you can see Jason, nodding at you from his place against the wall–his drink tipping your way as if to say goodbye. 

You’re still a little confused when Tim drags you back into the suite to dance, finding Conner and Stephanie along the way. The four of you twirl and laugh and drink, the boys spinning you and Steph around and around–passing the two you back and forth until you're dizzy and drunk. Tim’s hands steady you, leading you in a crazy dance the two of you made up junior year, and grinning when you drunkenly tell him you love him. The night is alive, it’s burning with winter yearning and the feeling that you’d never be this young again. How you love your friends, how you wonder what's ailing them. 

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ 

The music is thunderous, eating away at your ear drums and seeping into your bones until your body sings along. You’re not sure what time it is any more, or where Tim went… Your last memory is Conner giving you his jacket before pulling your friend away, a sight that made you giggle and roll your eyes. Steph’s seemed to disappear too, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, swaying in time with the music and whispering jokes to nobody. 

The crowd seems to have gotten bigger and the drinks stronger, a revelation that sends you in search of Tim or Dick, or someone you know. Yet, you can’t find them anywhere, off with Conner and Kory surely, abandoning you with only vodka and an empty chip bowl to keep you company. The party seems lonelier now, the music dull and throbbing in your ears, and all the dancing seems out of rhythm. It’s almost like you’ve stepped out of the faery ring, released yourself from an enchantment, and now everything that was once magic is all wrong. 

That things happening, that thing where you begin to have nostalgia for the moment you’re in, a kind of bittersweetness veiling over your eyelids as you take in the dark room. This happens sometimes, where you get a sudden case of the blues–too much adrenaline, too much happiness for one person, so it comes out as sad. It doesn’t help that you’re all alone, that Tim left you to go kiss Conner and you don’t really know anyone else, not truly–not the way you need to know them for a moment like this. 

You find yourself on the stairs, leaning against the railing as you attempt to regain your balance. The world seems to be spinning, whether it's from the alcohol or all the dancing you’re unsure of, yet the sky seems to be under your feet. You wished Tim was here… he always knew what to do, always knew how to make you laugh when you’re sad and get you home without a scratch… Stupid Conner, you think, stealing your best friend from you when you need him most… typical. 

It's minutes later that you feel someone nudging you awake, shaking you from your place on the stairs. The person's hands are rough and warm and gentle, easing you back into consciousness, accompanied by  whispers of “come on, little one.” 

You don’t feel very good, the alcohol and the sadness filling your throat with the taste of vomit, yet you find it in yourself to look up. Light invades your senses and that same blaring electronica finds a home in your ears again, a repeated refrain of call on me beating into your bones. You find the eyes of the intruder, green like summer; they’re looking down at you in concern, all squinty like a crescent moon. It's not until the song changes that you realize it’s Jason looking at you, your mystery come to find you. 

“Jason?” you ask, your voice covered in sleep and intoxication. “What are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing, Where’s Timmy?” 

“Off with Conner.” You harrumph, sneering at his name as if they aren’t two of your most treasured friends. 

“And he left you all alone?” He looks a little surprised by this, and a little upset, a combination that will surely keep you up thinking about what it means. 

“Yeah, can you believe that?! He’s a treacherous traitor who betrayed me.” 

“You know, I’m pretty sure all those things mean the same thing.” He laughs a little, and you wish you were sober just so you could really hear him, the fear you feel that you might not remember this fills you with dread. It's so rare that you get to see him, so rare that you get to talk to him without Tim around to make things different and tense… your crush on Jason is not so hidden, a truth that eats at you in moments like this. You’re sure they probably all know, can all see how flustered you get around him, but you’d never act on it–you’d never do anything to hurt Tim, (that includes kissing his brothers), thus you pretend like it doesn’t affect you as much as it does. But here now, with Jason sitting next to you on the stairs, sharing space and oxygen and more words than you’ve ever spoken to each other before, you feel it becoming harder and harder to pretend. 

“Why are you sitting with me, Jason?” You ask him.

‘What?” He replies, eyes wide in shock or maybe confusion. “You’re my little brother’s best friend and you’re asleep on the stairs, why wouldn’t I be sitting with you.” His voice is pure Gotham, it brings a smile to your lips. 

“I see, is it just because I’m Timmy’s best friend.” 

“Are you flirting with me, Casanova?” he laughs, bringing a bottle of water up to his lips. 

“Never ever, Mr. Todd, I swear it, cross my heart.” You can see how he’s smiling, goofier than you’ve ever seen it, less sculpted than the usual smirky grin he wears around his brothers. 

“You’re drunk.” He says, before handing you his bottle of water, “Drink.” He says it like a command, like something you couldn’t say no to even if you tried, so you listen, yet you can’t stop thinking about his lips around it just a few seconds before. It invades your senses– the image of his rosebud lips curling around the top like a kiss… What is a kiss if not two mouths touching? What is a kiss without a kiss? Shared saliva and phantom smiles pressing against your own? 

One of his large hands goes to the bottom of the plastic bottle–tipping it up further as if to get you to drink more, his eyes swallow you, commanding eye contact as the water tumbles down your throat. “That’s a good girl.” He tells you, voice low and pleasing. It’s only when the bottle is empty that he takes his hand away, lowering the bottle from your lips and looking back into the humid party. 

How handsome he is, you think, it’s obvious he dressed up a little more for this than when you usually see him. He’s in all black, slacks and t-shirt displaying some 90s anime, he even has jewelry on: silver rings and heavy chains around his neck… He looks ravishing, like someone should take him home before other people can perceive him. You remember that first time you saw him, that fifteen year old boy on the news who looked like Peter Pan; you remember how you felt when you read that he was missing, if only you could have told yourself you would have found him one day. 

“Jason?” You whisper, “Where did you go?” He’s surprised at the question, that much is obvious, but he doesn’t seem mad, more tired; exhausted by the memory. 

“Neverland.” He whispers back, a response that brings a smile to your lips even though it’s not an answer. 

“What was it like?” 

“Hmm,” he says, thinking about his answer. “Well, it was pretty, there were pirates and mermaids, and little fairy girls like you.” That makes you laugh, a big booming thing that escapes. 

“I’m a little fairy girl, now?” 

“Oh yeah, I saw you spinning earlier… round and round like you were trying to fly.” 

“Well, I’m all out of pixie dust.” You tell him, which brings that goofy smile back to his pretty face. 

He doesn’t say anything else, just sits quietly with you, humming songs he knows and snorting at the drunken antics of Dick’s guests. It’s nice, just sitting with him–there is no need to fill the space, just peace and quiet. Finally, when you’re feeling sober enough to be a little worried by his answer, you ask, “Why’d you leave? I mean what made you come home?” 

It takes him a moment to answer, but when he does it’s full of secrets and saved up sadness, his voice gruff with the memory of it. “I just had to grow up I guess.” 

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ 

Days later you’re still thinking about that conversation on the stairs, how sad he looked… how vulnerable and young he appeared. When Tim finally showed himself, he was shocked to find you with his brother, thanking him over and over again for keeping you company. You remember how Jason smiled, sweet and sleepy, before he said No problem, Timmy, you just get her home safe. It’s less of a memory and more of a dream, like you went off to Neverland too. 

It was difficult to find sleep that night, too shaken and embarrassed by your own behavior… Nerves ate at your brain every time you thought about how natural it was to talk to him, nerves that only got worse when you wake up to a text from an unknown number: 

 ‘Hey, fairy girl, it’s J. just want to make sure you got back alright’ 

It filled you with heat and parasitic flutters in your belly, but you couldn’t answer… couldn’t get over the guilt you felt when imagining Tim’s reaction, no matter how innocent it all was. So you left it alone, didn’t answer him and went on with your day as normal as you could make it: lunches with Tim and group chat gossip with Duke and Stephanie, anything that could distract you from the fire blazing in your veins. 

You were still a little cross with Tim for leaving you all alone, but after making him take you out to breakfast and promise to buy you whatever you wanted for the next week, you thought you’d cut him some slack. He was acting a little weird, he kept making that face that only conjures itself when he’s trying to figure something out, and he repeatedly asked you if Jason said anything interesting to you– a question that has you shaking your head every time.

His words were just for you, you knew that more than you knew anything, so even though it was unfamiliar, you kept it from your best friend. 

It’s been a week since that fateful night, a week full of sleeplessness and butterflies when you thought about his bright eyes and warm hands. You’ve always had a bit of a crush, but now it's stifling–incinerating you with the absolute truth of it. Even here at work it suffocates you, presses down in between the dark archives of old newspapers and preserved textiles. It's just another day of paperwork and organization, studying old books on Cherry Hill in hopes to find something that could help stop the impending gentrification. 

Tim’s on his way with lunch, something Alfred cooked up to be sure, an exciting but slightly unnerving prospect. You’ve never been afraid of your best friend before, but you’ve also never kept a secret from him… you know it's not a big deal, so what if you and Jason had a sleepy drunken conversation at Dick’s birthday party? It wasn’t like you kissed! Hell, his hands barely even touched your skin except to wake you up, yet the fear of hurting Tim is so massive and encompassing you can’t help but feel like you need to hide it. 

You hear him say hello to your coworkers, hear his graceful steps down into the basement, he takes the stairs two at a time. When he finally arrives in front of you, he is jovial–smiling wider than you’ve seen in awhile. He dawdles on, handing you your lunch and telling you about how Alfred made twice the amount so all his kids could have some. It’s nice to hear him speak about his family, you relish in it… how happy he sounds when he speaks of his brothers, Alfred and Stephanie, the smile in his voice when he tells you you’re invited to another Friday Dinner. 

“Barbara and Kory are coming too, you’ll be there, yeah?” 

“Yeah, Definitely,” You tell him, but your heart isn’t in it. Tim notices it, of course he does, but he doesn’t call it out. You’ve been acting strange lately, but he trusts that you’d come to him if you really needed help. He stays until you both finish your lunch, kissing you on the head before he heads back towards the WE building; the guilt creeps back in when he leaves, roots of shaming entangling you like vipers. 

This routine follows you into the week, Tim bringing lunch and stories of Conner and Duke and the mischief they’ve gotten themselves into. Your work kept you busy, working late into the night– the book you found on the Founding of Gotham was interesting, and it was proving to be rather helpful in proving your suspicions that the original City Hall was located in the Cherry Hill suburb of Gotham City. You hoped you’d be able to find all the sources you needed, but it was becoming a bigger and bigger project than you ever realized–a project that was impeding on your life. 

It was late into the afternoon when Jason came to see you, bringing with him a smile and something hidden in his book bag. 

“Knock-knock, Little fairy, can I come in?” He asks you, halting on the last step. It's dark down here, lit only with lamps and reading lights, still he is beautiful–the white streak in his hair curling down over his eyes. He looks rather comfy, wrapped up in a sweater and a leather jacket, his book bag crossing over his chest and falling around his hip. God, he’s lovely, and he’s here… Why is he here? 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, startled by his presence and the life it brings. 

“I wanted to bring you some flowers,” He tells you, a secret smile playing on his lips. You look at his empty hands, a confused grin finding its way to your face. 

“Where are the flowers, Jason?” You laugh, although it halts when that goofy grin emerges again. Looking at you slyly he takes something out from his bag, pulling out a stack of books and handing them to you. Still confused you shuffle the pile to read each title,

 Dandelion Wine, White Oleander, The Chrysanthemums, Daisy Miller, The Secret Garden… 

Oh dear, you think, how sweet is this boy? And why? After you’d ignored his message… 

“Flowers,” he says, tilting his head towards you, that charming smile still living on his face. 

Who is this wonderful, handsome boy? When his brothers speak of him, they describe him as gruff and unlikable–mean and sulky. Yet this Jason is bright and euphoric, sweet and happy and mischievous…

He brought you flowers… flowers that you could keep on your shelf forever; stories of life and sadness and magic. 

“Oh my,” you say, “Thank you, Jason.” 

“Of course, I wanted to make sure you were okay…” He hesitates for a minute before continuing on, “Y’know, you never answered my text and I thought maybe Dickie gave me the wrong number.” 

“Oh, no it was the right number,” you sigh. “I just don’t want Tim to feel weird about the two of us becoming friends…” 

“Are we becoming friends then,” he asks you, eyes brighter than before. He looks so young like this, starry eyed and grinning like he won a blue ribbon. 

“I don’t know, Jason, are we?” 

“I’m inclined to say yes, fairy girl. I don’t steal books from the library for just anyone.” 

Shocked, you turn the books over and sure enough, the library's barcode sits against the hardcover. 

“Jason! What the hell?! You can’t just steal from the library!” You yell, yet all he does is laugh. It’s such a pretty sound, deep and melodious like a song you can’t forget the words to. You wonder how often he really laughs like this, true and belly-full, like he means it. 

“I work at the library, Sugar, don’t worry.” He rasps out, “I’m the person who has to buy the new books anyway… so don’t worry about it.” The pet name rolls off his tongue salaciously, finding its way into your tummy, filling you with warmth and a vision of him at Gotham City Public Library. You’re not sure how you never knew, how you never saw him there in your late night book runs for your work. It fills you with fondness and makes your smile somehow brighter than it already was. 

“Well, thank you anyway, J.” You tell him. “Really, no one's ever given me flowers before.” 

When his eyes meet yours the floor shakes beneath you, destabilizing you into nervous fidgeting and shy smiles. You can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe your mystery is standing in front you–vulnerable and handsome and smiling. He brought you flowers… God, what are you going to tell Tim? 

You see he’s getting ready to leave, so you ask (quicker than you thought possible,) “Do you wanna stay for a while? I’m just reading through some sources, but it might be better with company?” The smile he gives you is serendipitous, magical and dreamlike. 

He stays with you long into the night, reading all the left pages as you read the right and sharing his own suspicions. He mentions books at the library that might be useful, and tells you how cool he thinks what you’re doing is, he smiles the whole time. It's late when you finish, yawning and blinking away the strain, he looks more and more like that school picture you once fawned over– young and happy, Peter Pan. 

He insists on walking you home, leading you through the still busy Gotham Streets with a hand grazing your back and a watchful eye on the city. Every once in a while he stops to make sure you’re going the right way, and to ask if you’re still alright, a question that brings a smile to your lips and goosebumps on your skin. 

When you finally make it home, skin bitten cold and his jacket hanging off your shoulders, he smiles faintly at you, bringing his hand up to push a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. 

As he turns to leave he tells you, 

“Don’t forget to get those flowers in some water, see you Friday,” And with the way your heart stops, you know you’re doomed. 

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ 

Tim Drake is lots of things, but a fool is not one of them. He sees how different Jason is acting during patrol: stumbling over ledges and pulling out the wrong gun. He’s been weird since Dick’s party, quicker to smile and more interested in you than ever before… he remembers seeing Jason try to covertly listen to the Comm when Dick asked Tim how you were,

 “How’s Chicken Little doing, Timmy?” 

But before he could answer, Damian swiftly responded: 

“She doesn’t like it when you guys call her that, can’t you see her nose scrunch up in disgust? Honestly you’re all a bunch of buffoons.” 

Tim, however offended he might be at Damian thinking he knows you better than him, couldn’t help but focus on Jason instead. His face might be covered by his mask, yet his body language is unmistakable–he’s more interested than he should be. 

“Might I remind all of you, she is off limits, do not disturb, dead end… I will kill you and send your entrails to Lex Luthor to make some weird clone of you if you even think about it.” This message is for all of them, but you’d have to be stupid to not realize it was really only for Jason–Dick and Kory have been basically engaged since they were 20 and Damian still drinks bug juice for God’s Sake… the only other person it could be is Duke, but if the gagging sounds he’s making over the comm mean anything, he doesn’t need to be worried. 

Nobody says anything for a second, laughter from Dick and Duke creeping in through his ear piece, yet it all stops when Jason speaks up for the first time that night. 

“You know, you really should let her make her own decisions… She’s not a little girl.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Hood?” Tim asks, getting actually truly angry for the first time. There’s a reason why he tried to keep you to himself in the beginning of your friendship, he knows you think it’s because he didn’t want you to date his brothers, but really he didn’t want to have to share another thing. So much of his life belongs to his family, he just wanted one thing to belong to him. 

“Don’t get angry, please, Birdie?” Jason replies, there's no heat in it, just exhaustion. 

“What. Do. You. Mean? Hood?” Tim says again, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. 

“I just mean she’s a grown up, and she should be allowed to talk to whoever she wants to, even if it weirds you out.” 

It strikes Tim as something that wouldn’t bother him if it was about anyone but you, if it was Steph or Bart or Cassie, it wouldn’t have mattered. But it is you, the first friend he’s had that's entirely his own–you’re his best friend in the entire world, the person he loves the most, and he doesn’t need anyone, especially not Jason Todd, telling him how he should act with you. 

“Keep your advice to yourself, Red Hood,” Tim barks out to his brother, yet there's a piece of him that's thinking about what he said, a voice in the back of his head that tells him maybe he should listen. 

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ 

When Tim calls you to tell you not to come to family dinner, you can’t help but be confused and a little hurt. Sure, he said he’d just come over to yours instead, but the thought that someone was upset with you, or worse that Tim used his brilliant brain to suss out your crush before you could tell him, and now he’d never let you back around his brothers again, whittled its way into your heart and wouldn’t let go. 

You never wanted to do anything that would hurt Tim, he’s the person who you trust most in the world, the only person you could say confidently that you would kill or be killed for. You love him, infallibly and wholly, and thinking that he might be hurt by something you’ve done, even as innocent as a couple moonlit conversations with his brother, consumes you into a hellmouth of anxiety. 

He arrives at seven, the time he said he’d pick you up for family night, but instead of meeting you at your door, he barrels in. There’s a wild look in his eyes, a look you’ve only seen once– when your Philosophy 204 professor fell over and began to aspirate through a seizure–it’s painful and worried, and you wonder what's making him so upset now. However, when you ask, all he does is shake his head, almost like he’s trying to shake out the worries, pound them out like water in your ears. He looks beyond you, into your kitchen and his sighs become heavier and more sporadic, did he run here? 

“I’m trying to figure something out,” He tells you, his voice kinder than his body language made it seem like it would be, yet you’re not surprised–in the five years of being his friend, he’s never once raised his voice at you. 

“Okay, what's up?” You ask, anxious. 

“Are you and Jason in love? Are you having some sort of gross affair?” 

“What?!” You exclaim, sure you have a crush on Jason, and yes you think it would be quite easy to fall in love with him, but come on… Two conversations and childhood crush don’t suddenly turn into an affair. 

“Don’t “what” me, Chicken! I have Jason telling me to treat you like a grown up and now I walk in here and his jacket is hanging from my chair… MY CHAIR!” He says, shocking a laugh out of you, “The chair I sit in, god what has life come to?” 

“Timmy, we’re not having an affair, he just walked me home after bringing me something at work.” You approach him like a snake tamer, slow and kind in your steps–the same steps you saw the zoo keeper take the last time you and Tim brought Damian to Gotham Zoo. 

“But you like him?” He asks, suspicious and guarded. You can’t tell what’s happening in his head, can’t seem to read his mind like you usually can, so instead you let your hands fall onto his shoulders–fingers splaying out to run through the hair on his neck. 

“Yes,” You say, quiet as a mouse. “Is that okay?” 

Tim lets his head fall into your tummy, blowing out a big gasp of air into your shirt, which makes you laugh and push him away. 

“Of course it’s okay, Chicken… I just want you to be happy.” He sighs, “I just don’t really know if you will be happy with him… my brother he’s,” He hesitates, thinks about how he should say this without ruining anything, before he continues: “Jay’s complicated, what happened fucked him up… really bad. And I love you, more than him, more than anyone–you’re my girl. I don’t want you to feel trapped in a bad situation, and feel like you can’t come to me cause he’s my brother… I’ll always be on your side.” 

You smile and let out what feels like all the air in your lungs. How you love your stupid, silly, best friend, as if Jason would ever make you feel trapped and horrible when all he ever wants to do is be free? 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Timmy, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” The nickname makes him smile, brings him back to college when all you guys would do was watch Chicken Little and drink bottled sweet tea, when you’d call him Timmy and beg him to let you prank call his dad. Yet, the sentiment makes him sad, how are you a big girl if you’re both still just kids? He doesn’t feel that grown up yet. 

“That’s what he said you know,” He replies. “Just, why didn’t you tell me?” He’s watching you, looking at you in that way that makes you spill all your secrets, so you tell him, 

“I didn’t want to upset anyone, and I don’t know if he even likes me back, so..” 

“Are you crazy?! Of course he likes you, my brother hates literally every single person he interacts with other than Alfred, yet he’s coming to your work to surprise you? Come on.” He’s laughing though it sounds a little pained. It does little to comfort your swirling thoughts. You’re so happy Tim’s not angry, so happy that he’s not throwing you onto the curb like you expected, but he still seems so sad. 

You wish you could swaddle him up and make everything okay, promise that you’d never stop being friends, make sure he knows that you’re not going away–that all of this is a little dramatic for a little crush. 

“Are you okay, Timmy? With the chance that something might happen between me and Jason?” 

“Yeah, Chickadee, just…” he sighs, “Don’t forget what I said, okay? About him being complicated.” You nod, but before you can say anything, he speaks up again. “And, Chicken? Remember our pact about getting married for taxes… it’s you and me spending our afterlives together, not you and Jason.” 

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ 

You wake the next morning a bundle of limbs and sleepy energy, Tim is barely conscious next to you and the apartment smells faintly of cheetos and ramen; you’d spent the night watching Avatar: The Last Airbender and reminiscing about the good old days. You told him about everything that's happened with Jason, starting from that first sight of his missing poster and ending with the bouquet of books. He was obviously a little grossed out to be talking about his brother in this way, but it felt good to see you so giggly and happy. 

He’d felt bad for making you skip out on family night, a feeling of guilt that shook in his bones as his father and eldest brother texted him about skivving out on family bonding. But, he wouldn’t go back to change it, he was so afraid he was going to lose you, that you’d get tired of him and make friends with other people, that having this night with you was well worth all the lectures he was going to have to put up with. 

He’s watching you now, anxious and blushing, and he can’t help but feel in awe of you–his pretty best friend, really crushing on someone for the first time. Some part of him is glad that person is Jason, at least then he won’t feel too bad about breaking his nose if he starts any shit with you. 

“Everythings gonna be okay,” He says, using your first name in a rare scene of seriousness. 

“Yeah, I know.” You tell him. “I just, don’t wanna ruin anything.” 

“You know, he’s working today… might wanna bring him some flowers.” 

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ 

The library is alive, warm and inviting like a lover’s embrace. It smells like parchment and dust and clorox wipes, a combination that instantly brings you back to school–elementary crushes and schoolyard gossip. 

There’s not very many people here, too early on a school day for anyone to really be finding solace between the aisles, but you see him. Jason sits behind the front desk, wiry glasses settled on his nose and a book in his lap. He hasn’t noticed you yet, too absorbed in his work to really be paying attention. For a minute, you just stand and admire him–this mysterious creature who walked into your life and never left. All these feelings are brand new and ancient… romantic and friendly, respect and admiration. It would all be so easy, with him–to lose yourself in love and friendship–you want it so badly. 

You can see it so vividly, waking up with him and spending nights intertwined, reading together and researching maniacally. Falling for him is easy, loving him will be hard you know, but seeing him now: pretty and warm in the afternoon light makes the decision rather easy. 

“I’d like to return some books,” you say once you’ve reached him, startling him out of his reverie. 

He can’t believe it’s you, beautiful and bright–like a protagonist out of an Austen novel. He thought he’d never be allowed near you again, thought he ruined it all by bringing you up to Tim, but here you were–lovely like the morning. You’re carrying books, flowers, and your smile is starlight. 

“Well, right this way, Ma’am.” He tells you, once he finds his voice. “I didn’t realize you could replant flowers after you’ve picked them.” He’s teasing you, but really he’s not sure why you’ve brought the books back–is it a way to let him down? Or are you just returning the favor? 

He leads you into the back, unprofessional sure, but he needs to be alone with you. You’re so anxious, he can tell… he needs to be able to reach out and feel you. 

“I just felt like you deserved flowers too, Jay.” You tell him, sweet and lovely like always. 

“Hmm, well I refuse them… they’re all yours, I already replaced them.” His eyes are mischievous again, burning with joy as they stare into yours. You’re reminded of that night on the stairs, when he made you drink water and burned you alive. 

“I talked to Tim,” You tell him, watching as his smile drops. 

“Let me guess, he told you I’m bad news and doesn’t want you around me, right?” He asks, rough with the hurt of past bruises. 

“Actually, he told me you’re bad news but he’s trusting me to be able to handle it.” Jason looks surprised, his summer green eyes wide with shock. He guessed he never really thought Tim would be okay with it… 

He remembers seeing you for the first time: soft and gorgeous in the lowlight of the manor, he was sitting with Damian and remembers how the breath shot out of his lungs at the sight of you. Dami’s been teasing him about it for years now, bringing you up to piss Tim off and making plans for you to bring him to the planetarium on days when Jason said he’d pick him up–like a goddam parenttrap. He thinks back to that night on the stairs a few weeks ago, you looked so pretty spinning around with your friends, like Thumbelina. When he found you on the stairs he was panicked: worried about you and worried about Tim who never left your side, but you were still just so pretty. 

He can’t believe you here now, bringing him flowers and his brother’s approval. He’s waited for this for so long, for the okay from the one person dearest to you, the one person who could make Jason actually care about listening to him. 

“He really said that?” Jason asks you, hesitant and careful like he’s worried you’re playing a joke on him. 

“He really said that,” You reply, laughing when Jason pulls you into a hug. He holds you for a few minutes, feels the air in your lungs press into his belly as you breathe in and out, it feels so good to have you here, to know that he’s not making anything worse by wanting you. 

“So that means you’ll go out with me then, fairy girl?” he asks you, his rough fingers moving up to grasp your chin, tilting it up so you’re looking into his eyes. He waits for you to nod, then waits for the word, yes, to emerge from your pretty lips, before lowering down to kiss your forehead. He feels you sigh, feels your hands shake from their place on his arms, his kisses move down down down until they meet the corner of your lips. You're smiling slightly, like you’re having a happy dream, and when he kisses you for real that smile becomes a big grin. 

It’s all teeth and laughter and the awkwardness of a first kiss, but Jason holds you up and lets you gasp into his mouth and swallows your sighs. He licks into your mouth and clashes his teeth against yours and calls you his fairy, his magic girl come to take him back to Neverland. He holds you tighter and tighter, and feels you shake under his affection, how lovely it is, how badly he wants to make your bones rattle. 

“I’ll bring you more flowers on our date, sugar.” He tells you, kissing the underside of your jaw, before pulling away. He’s sad he has to let you go, frustrated that he has to stay at work while you get to go and hang out with Tim and Damian at the Museum all day, but the kiss you press into his hand–innocent and earnest–makes it worth it. 

He leads you out of the back room and into the well-lit main entrance, pausing only to grab his book from the front desk. “By the way, I found this while I was stacking shelves, I thought it might be useful for your project.” 

In his hands is a book titled Gotham City’s Founding Buildings, and on the cover, miraculously an illustration of Cherry Hill. 

It’s too easy to fall in love with him, you think again, smiling as you pull him into another kiss.

[mayixmas]

ngl this is so weird and why do people feel the need to even comment about how someone dresses up

there's a thing called minding your own business and even keeping some things to yourself...

because not everything has to be said nor validated like that hahaha

I still vividly remember last December while on the way to my university class' Christmas Party, wearing pants under my dress because I felt more comfortable that way, and also cuz I love wearing pants under my dresses and skirts because why not. I dress up for myself yknow

and then I was in the elevator with this boomer or something and she had the audacity to say that I looked like I was a "baliw" (it means a crazy or insane person in Tagalog and in a very negative way)

at first I just giggled along and kinda went on my own way... but then I thought to myself, not even caring anymore that I was running late to my party

"hey, that was so weird from her"

so I waited for her, right. so when I saw her again I screamed at her for her to fuck off and mind her own business 😭😭

so what is the lesson for today kids?

some people including me have anger management issues. so don't fuck around and find out with strangers especially if that stranger is me. You might just get it 😭😭😭

anyway but yeah like speaking of OP's post I can't believe an actual doctor even actually wrote or typed down "dresses oddly" next to psychotic symptoms like what no 😭😭 that's unprofessional 😭

was going through some of my health records and some doctor put “dresses oddly” next to my psychotic symptoms. hey fuck you too man

[blxksun]

18+, minors and ageless blogs dni

camboy!lee know who didn't even start out (or think of doing it) because of his own thoughts. getting thirsty comments in his cat caretaking videos. comments about how hot he was, that jaw, those eyes, weird comments about sitting on his nose, how big his arms were, his thighs, those veins, those hands. and then one from a "mrknowskittycat: please tell me you have a link, please tell me you have a link, please tell me you have a link" and one day being affected by them.

camboy!lee know who does it because he finds desperation funny, not his, (even though the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants reeks of desperation), but the viewers. they'd been still waiting to get him out of his clothes.

camboy!lee know who doesn't even have a schedule for when he goes live, because he knows people will show up anyway. and quickly too. especially since the title is, "playing today".

camboy!lee know who, even now, still finds it funny. he doesn't even do anything on the livestream. he just sits there in a t-shirt that has the sleeves cut off and the light gray sweats. of course he's freeballing, it's comfortable, not because the comments that are thirsting are amusing. definitely not.

camboy!lee know who has a light smirk on his face as he reads the comments that are particularly needy. "is the print not enough?, you just have to see it don't you?", "if you want me to play so bad, play with yourself first, tell me about it, i might get fomo", "i don't punish my kittens, i just don't give them treats, who knows maybe i'll cave, give you one"

camboy!lee know who moves slightly in a stretch and lets out a groan. laughing when ping! ping! ping! ping! comes in. "you guys gift for a stretch, how kind, still doesn't convince me you want me to play". tone condecending, smirk still tight on his lips, and a tiny breathy laugh accompanying it.

camboy!lee know whose breath catches when he sees a familiar name in the chat. "onlymrknowknows": i just joined, because i was watching your old streams. i was so pent up from all your teasing that since seeing you my hand has been in my pants. i just got paid so i'll tell you all about it <3". finally, just who he was waiting for.

camboy!lee know who tells the other viewers to tell 'onlymrknowknows', thank you and that they should take notes on how to get what they want out of him. moving his hips up to slowly shimmy his sweats down to mid-thigh. hard cock, almost as veiny as the rest of him, clear essence shining at the tip, springing up as it was finally free.

camboy!lee know who stroked his cock with vigor, as the detailed report of viewer masturbation came through on his screen. front teeth the only thing showing as he moaned. struggling to keep his eyes open to read because 1. the image in his head is going crazy right now and 2. he needs to know when they cum. he really wants it to be at the same time. his tough and nonchalant facade completely disregarded, because he teased himself by teasing the viewers, everything felt way too good right now, his thumb rubbing just right on his tip. and he whimpers. the tough guy whimpers, and then breathily whispers out "f-fuck, look, you got shit-what you wanted, please, i need you to cum with me, please, please, fuckkkk please ah- oh god!" and it's so whiney.

camboy!lee know who doesn't even get to see the last message come through, because it hit him. eyes screwed shut and hips practically levitating out of the chair. he cums pathetically, shooting up onto his tee, some landing on his thigh. and the nerve of him to come down, face flushed, open mouth panting, teasing eyes and smirk becoming ever present. "okay , i played, bye". leaning up, ending the stream immediately, leaving viewers wondering when he'd be back next.

blxksun2025 do not copy or translate my works. happy reading !

a/n definitely making one for the other two, might do a poll for that one as well. this is a work of pure fiction, nothing in this work is a true reflection of the real person this fanfiction is based around. vote for the next one here

[coldfanbou]

Love Language

Woops, looks like the scheduling feature didn't quite work. I tried to get this out yesterday. Anyway, enjoy some Umji.

Length 2.3K

Umji X mreader

You rest your hand over your drink, stretching your neck as you enjoy your calm night out. You hear the sound of the front door opening, but pay it no mind, continuing on with your drink. A voice calls out to you. “Could you buy me a drink?” You peer to your side, seeing a young woman standing beside you. “I promise I can pay you back,” the young woman said, giving you a big smile, her soft cheeks poking up. She brought her hands to her chin, resting them on her palm. “Please?” 

“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” you ask, looking at the young woman. 

She pouts, her chubby cheeks puffing out. “I can drink,” she whines cutely. “Just one drink, please.” The young woman was insistent. She took the seat next to you, refusing to give up just yet. 

“What’s your name?”

Thinking she was getting somewhere, the young woman chirps her response, “My friends call me Umji!” Umji leans in, scooting her seat closer to you. She shakes her head and smiles at you. Her hand reaches for your arm, tugging at it slightly. “Does this mean you’ll get me a drink? I promise I can pay you back.”

“And how exactly do you plan to pay me back?” You were genuinely curious. Umji seemed to be someone who would actually send you money. 

“I can show you my love language,” Umji said, laying her head on your arm.

“Your love language?” you say a little sarcastically.

Umji pouts at your tone, “Yeah, it's worth a drink or two,” she says. “Don’t you think I’m pretty?”

You might not be a ladies' man, but you knew better than to say no. “I think you’re a pretty woman…I just don’t know if it’s worth it for me.”  You motion toward yourself, trying to make a point. “What do you mean you’ll show me your love language?”

Umji smiles, tightening her grip around your arm as she looks at you. Her big doe eyes stare back at you. “I can’t just tell you,” she whispers, looking away and playing shy. “I can only show you.” Umji pouts again, making her lip quiver, “Please, mister, can you buy me a drink. I’m so thirsty.” Umji made her voice higher, trying to hit you with another level of cuteness. You take a deep breath and sigh. You know you shouldn’t buy the woman a drink, but you do anyway. 

You raise your hand, “Bartender, a drink for the lady.” 

Umji smiles and bounces in her seat. As the bartender arrives, Umji calls out her drink of choice, “A cosmopolitan, please!” Her cheery tone was enough to make you smile. “Thank you, mister! You’re so nice,” Umji says, turning to you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you huff, playing it off. 

“What do you do?” Umji asks you while the bartender begins to make her drink.

“Stuff,” you answer. You said it without a second thought, you didn’t know why you were being so guarded, it wasn’t like she would have any use for the information. “I do all kinds of things, a bit like a handyman.”

“Ohh,” Umji nods along, “Don’t you want to know what I do?”

You were a little curious, “Alright, I’ll bite. What do you do?”

“I’m a masseuse. I make sure everyone can be nice and relaxed,” Umji replies, brimming with pride. “It can be really hard work, like yours.” Umji nods as she makes the comparison. Before she can continue, the bartender places the drink down in front of Umji. “Thank you!” She calls out, picking up the frothy pink drink. Umji takes a small sip of it, shaking as she puts it back down. “Ah! It tastes so good! Do you want a taste?” Umji asks, pouting and pointing to her glistening lips. You let out a puff of air as you look at her. Umji giggles, happy that she got a reaction out of you. 

“So, do you always ask people for drinks?” You ask, turning things around on her.

“No, just the cute ones,” Umji kicks her feet, looking away from you with a smile on her face. 

“Mm, right,” You reply, teasing her a little.

“It’s true!” Umji shouts, playfully smacking your arm. “You’re pretty cute.” The young woman sips her drink, nearly finishing it. 

“Is that why you came up to me?”

Umji blushes slightly, “Maybe…” She was being coy. “No more questions!” Umji exclaims, taking a final swig of her drink. 

“You finished that pretty quickly. Do you want another?”

The young woman tilts her head, “Mm, if you’re offering to buy me another drink, I’ll take it.” You call the bartender over again, Umji gives you a giddy smile, baring her teeth as she orders a different drink this time. “Malibu Sunshine!” Umji pauses for a moment, “Wait, that’s not right…Ah, Malibu Sunset.” Umji looks at you, tilting her head and lightly smacking her knuckle against it. “I always think of sunshine before I remember it’s sunset.” You can’t help but smile at the cute act. You and Umji continue talking, having a few more drinks. With each passing one, Umji becomes a little more handsy. She clings to you, whining when you try to move away. “Let me stay here, it’s so nice,” she says, slurring her words as she nuzzles against your arm. 

“I think you’ve had enough,” you mumble. The drinks are hitting you just as hard as they were, Umji.

“No, you’ve had enough,” Umji giggles. “Let’s go back to your place so I can show you my love language,” Umji whispers into your ear.  You nod along and pay your tab, just as you're about to head out, Umji stops you. “I want to go to the bathroom.” The young woman grabs your hand and drags you to the women’s bathroom. You hardly notice, though, your vision is already blurry. Umji pushes her way in and kisses you before heading to the sinks. You watch the young woman. Umji raises her dress and bends over the sink. “Get over here, I want to show you what you’re missing out on.”

You walk over to the young woman, staring at her backside. Your hands wander her body, rubbing and squeezing the soft flesh. Your hands wander higher, going for her clothed breasts. The young woman reaches back, spreading her cheeks apart for you. “Put it in,” she whines, waving her ass for you. You nod, struggling for a moment to pull out your cock before managing. You rub the head against her folds before pushing in. Umji’s slick walls greet you warmly, snuggly wrapping around you as you push into her cunt. The young woman lets out a low guttural moan as she feels your hot shaft move deeper into her core. “Mmm, it’s so hot,” Umji moans as she pushes her hips back, wanting more of you. The young woman reaches between her legs, her fingers moving quickly to her clit. She rubs the sensitive nub in smooth circles, moaning as you thrust in and out of her.

You press yourself against the young woman, kissing the back of her neck as you drive your cock into her cunt. You feel her walls squeeze you, time and time again. “Spank me,” you hear Umji moan.

“What?”

“Spank me,” Umji moans again, “I want you to hit me hard.” You pull your hand back and smack the young woman’s ass, watching her skin ripple from the hard strike. Umji’s moans get louder for a moment. She turns her head, biting her bottom lip, “Like that, hit me like that,” she moans. You give Umji another smack on the rear and another. Each hit makes her moan more; she doesn’t hold herself back, letting her arousal show. Umji clutches the side of the sink, holding it tightly as you continue to thrust into her. You think about how the cute girl you had been talking to not that long ago has turned out to be so depraved. Whether it was the alcohol or not, you didn’t think about it. You were too focused on the pleasure you felt.

“Keep going,” Umji calls out, grunting as you continue to pound her against the sinks. You can feel her walls tightening around you as you thrust. The pleasure was becoming too great for you, too. You didn’t want to cum just yet. 

You drive your hand into Umji’s bright red cheek, leaving your handprint on it as she cries out for more. You grip her waist tightly and drive yourself into her faster and faster. Your bodies clap against each other, filling the bathroom with the sounds of your lovemaking. “I’m going to cum,” you groan through gritted teeth. 

“Do it inside, do it inside,” Umji whines. She releases her grip on one side of the sink and reaches for her cunt, rubbing it quickly as she tries to meet you at the same time. “I’m cumming too,” Umji moans, keeping her head down. She bites her lip, trying to hold on that little bit longer. The moment she feels your cock throbbing and your cum being pumped into her, she’s pushed over the edge. Umji throws her head back and cries out, filling the room as she’s rocked by her orgasm. 

Umji’s walls constrict around you, clamping down and milking you for every drop you have. Umji’s eyes flutter as she feels every drop of your hot cum pour into her cunt, painting her walls white with your seed. You keep yourself buried inside of her, your body growing tired. “Let’s go one more time,” Umji says through heavy breaths. “I want to be on top,” she adds. You give Umji a nod and pull out slowly, your cum seeping out of her puffy cunt.

Umji turns around, grabbing your shirt and pulling you into a kiss, her tongue invading your mouth while she pushes you into one of the stalls. She reaches behind her and makes sure the stall is locked before moving you onto the toilet and straddling you. Umji aligns her cunt with your cock, rubbing the dirty head against her lips before sinking onto it. Pleasure floods your body, and you moan into your kiss. The young woman doesn’t waste a moment; she rides you quickly, moving up and down your shaft. 

As Umji bounces on your cock you pull down the top of her dress, letting the cold air hit her nipples before you reach for and cup her breasts. Umji’s moans grow louder, her hard nipples rub against the palms of your hands as you squeeze her modest chest. You massage the soft mounds. The pleasure coursing through Umji’s body messes with her rhythm, and she stops bouncing on your shaft. Needing to gather herself, Umji rocks her hips in the meantime. 

You’re both breathless by the time your kiss ends, each of you gasping for every breath. Your moans grow louder as Umji swivels her hips. You watch the young woman move in circles, making your cock rub against her walls as she finally composes herself and switches back to riding you in earnest. “You feel so good,” Umji moans, her breasts bouncing with every drop of her body onto yours. 

You move your hands down Umji’s body, settling back on her waist as she rides you. You lean in, lapping at her neck. It makes the young woman coo. You wouldn’t last too much longer with Umji’s pace. 

She was close, too. Umji was getting closer, with every drop onto your cock she was nearing the edge. The young woman moved her hands to your shoulders, using them to support herself as she moved. Her moans began to turn into whines, and it became harder for her to move on top of you. 

Getting close and wanting to cum, you began to move Umji along your cock. It helped her, certainly, but it also quickened the time you had together. As you began to thrust into Umji, her whines came quicker; you were stabbing into her core. Her legs were growing weak, but she kept moving; she could feel her climax. Umji’s body was trembling as she slammed herself down one last time, impaling herself on your cock and letting you flood her womb with semen one more time. Umji threw her head back, a silent moan flowing from her lips as warmth spread across her body. You pull Umji closer, and her head falls on your shoulder. You kiss her neck as your body calms down. Drowsiness overtakes you both before you can react. You end up falling asleep in the stall, still buried inside Umji. 

You awaken only when the staff come inside to clean up the bathroom. Umji still lies on top of you, barely stirring as the sound of footsteps drawing closer comes near. You lift Umji off you and raise the straps of her dress. “Staff is here, we have to go,” you mumble to her. Umji sleepily nods her head. Knowing she’d barely be able to walk, you carry her bridle-style and rush out of the bathroom. You ignore the staff and hurry out, getting a few blocks away before stopping. Umji holds onto you loosely, her head resting against your chest as she snores lightly. You shake your head and look around, seeing no other option, “Guess, we’re going home.” You say carrying the sleeping woman to a taxi and taking her home with you. 

She sleeps the entire ride, and only when you pick her up and begin the walk inside does she mumble something, “My hero.” You shake your head as you feel the smile on her lips, Umji’s head nuzzling against your chest.  

“You owe me,” 

“I’ll show you more of my love language.” Umji murmurs before drifting back to sleep.

[piastriprincess]

lovesick all over my bed  ⸻  lando  norris  x  reader  .

featuring  lando  norris  ,  new  relationship  ,  sickfic tw  illness  (non  major  just  gross  again) word count 2.5k author’s  note  the  HIGHLY  requested  part  two  of  burnin’  up  (for  you  baby)  is  here  and  she’s  beautiful  …  this  time  lando  is  taking  care  of  reader  <3  thank  you  guys  so  much  for  loving  these  two  ,  i  can’t  tell  you  how  much  it  means  to  me  that  you  like  any of my  work  enough  to  ask  for  more  .  special  thanks  as  well  to  @tsunodaradio and  @daydreamsharry  for  the  inspiration  for  this  one  !!  as always lmk what you think !! title  is  from  slut!  by  taylor  swift  (i’m  really  in  a  taylor  writing  era  aren’t  i  …)

The thing no one warns you about when you start dating your best friend is that they somehow become even more insufferable when you’re sick. 

You and Lando have been officially together for six days. Six days since he woke up and remembered absolutely everything he’d said in the feverish haze of the day before, poking you in the side until you opened your eyes so he could nervously ask you if you wanted to “give it a proper go.” Six days of napping tangled together, of sharing lazy cough syrup kisses, of nursing him back to health. One hundred and forty-four hours of learning how to be something more than friends. 

Not that you’re counting, of course. 

The thing is, being Lando’s girlfriend is not all that different from being his best friend. You still steal his hoodies. You still bicker with each other about what takeout to order. He still tells stupid jokes just to see you roll your eyes. Now, he just kisses you after you inevitably laugh at them anyway — soft, tentative, like it’s still surreal to him too. Nothing changed, and yet everything did, all at once. It surprised you, how easy it felt right from the start.

Easy, that is, until you started feeling the telltale scratch in your throat, throbbing pressure in your head, and exhaustion that sunk bone-deep. Easy until you had to come up with a mundane excuse to flee your new boyfriend’s apartment and go home so he wouldn’t see you getting properly sick. Easy until he woke up this morning apparently completely fine, and you woke up feeling like you’d been hit by a bus.

You’ve been back at your place for under twelve hours, and you already feel a hundred times worse. You’re curled up in bed, buried under every blanket you own with an episode of trash TV queued up that you barely have the energy to pay attention to, when your phone buzzes on your nightstand with another text from Lando.

[10:30 AM] barely coughed AT ALL this morning [10:31 AM] live look at my immune sistem → 🐶 [10:32 AM] get it?? cos i got that DAWG in me [10:49 AM] wanna grab lunch later?? that new place by the harbor?? [11:03 AM] stop ignoring me i miss youuuuu xxxxx

You stare at the messages as your episode of Love Island plays on, forgotten. The sappy part of you wants to say yes just to see him, but the much more rational part of you knows you can barely sit up without feeling dizzy. 

There’s something else, too. The thought of him seeing you like this — in yesterday’s clothes, unshowered, looking properly awful — sends your stomach roiling with something like nerves. Which, objectively, is ridiculous. You’ve been best friends for years. He’s seen you after your worst hangovers, your biggest heartbreaks, even during the Great Food Poisoning Incident in Baku 2022. But it feels… different now, somehow. 

When you were just friends, being gross around each other felt like a badge of honor, some kind of award you could pin to your unshakeable bond. Best friends through anything. Now that you’ve crossed the invisible threshold into something more, you can’t silence the tiny, annoying voice in your head that’s wondering if he’ll look at you differently. If seeing you like this might make him reconsider before you have the chance to really get started together. 

You sigh. Roll over. Tap out a quick response.

[11:05 AM] sorry bub i can’t [11:05 AM] i think i caught your plague :(

He texts back almost immediately:

[11:06 AM] WHAT [11:06 AM] why didn’t you say anything??????? [11:07 AM] is that why you left so fast last nite [11:08 AM] im coming over rn

Exactly what you were hoping to avoid. You groan, typing as fast as your sluggish fingers will allow.

[11:10 AM] lan i’m fine!!! promise [11:11 AM] stay home stay well

His reply pops up before you can even put your phone down.

[11:11 AM] too late i’m alredy in the car! [11:11 AM] see you soon love xx

You let out a sigh, muffled into your pillow. Of course he’s coming over. Of course he’s acting like a new boyfriend who has something to prove and completely ignoring your very reasonable request. 

You’re in the middle of contemplating the opportunity cost of dragging yourself to the bathroom and washing your face so that you look marginally more human when you hear a key turn in your door. Probably the spare key you gave him years ago after one too many times of banging on your door at 3 AM after Jimmyz. You mentally kick yourself for that moment of weakness as the door slams shut; you’d take a hundred more nights of interrupted sleep if it prevented Lando from seeing you like this right now. 

“Hiiiii, love,” he singsongs, voice carrying down the hallway to your room. “I’m coming in. Hope you’re decent.”

You are affirmatively not decent. You can feel the grease in your hair, damply matted to your forehead. Your nose is achy and probably rubbed red-raw by now. You’re practically drowning in one of Lando’s old hoodies, holes at the cuffs, front pocket filled with used tissues. 

“Lan, you can’t,” you croak, pulling your duvet over your head. “You don’t want to see me. I’m disgusting.”

“Impossible. I always want to see you,” he calls, undeterred, and you can hear his footsteps getting closer. “Also, I’ve seen you vomit tequila all over the sidewalk and my shoes after Miami last year, so I think we’re past the point of you being embarrassed around me, yeah?”

“That was different! I was drunk, not diseased.”

“You’re not diseased, you muppet, you’ve got the flu,” he says softly. The mattress dips slightly as he sits beside you, and you can feel his hand smoothing over the duvet where your head is. “Come on, love, covers off.”

“No,” you say, voice muffled through the bedding.

“Please? It’s been, like, a whole day since I’ve seen you. I miss your face.”

Unfortunately, fifteen years of friendship means he knows exactly what to say, exactly which button to push to get you to cave. Despite yourself, you peek out from under the covers. Lando is sitting on the edge of the bed, faded tee clinging to his biceps, cheeks pink from the sun. He looks annoyingly healthy. Practically glowing, the bastard.

“There she is,” he murmurs with a smile that’s impossibly soft, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks down at you. “My pretty girl.”

You frown, pushing the covers off. “Don’t flirt with me when I look like death.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I will flirt with you any day of the week, in any condition,” he scoffs theatrically. “In fact, I think flu-you is extra cute.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you rasp, as your heart does something like a backflip in your chest.

“Well, that’s tough for you, ‘cos you’re stuck with me now,” he replies lightly. “Your personal nurse, until you get better.”

You push up onto your elbows. “Lan, I’m serious. I’ve got tea in the kitchen and cough syrup in the medicine kit and, like, three full boxes of tissues. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” The speech probably would have landed better if you didn’t immediately dissolve into a coughing fit that wracks through your body, leaving you breathless. 

“Right,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “Tea in the kitchen, yeah? Have you made any of it?”

“Well, no, but —”

“Taken any of that cough syrup?”

You scowl. “I was going to. Eventually.”

He gives you a knowing look. “And how many of those tissues are currently living in the front pocket of my hoodie?”

You glance down, grimace slightly. “That’s not the point.”

“It’s exactly the point,” he says softly, smoothing your hair off your forehead. “It’s okay to let someone take care of you. Stop being stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being practical. Look, I know you want to help, but I’m completely gross and miserable and I promise, I can —” 

“Love, I get it,” he interrupts, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers with his. “I know you’re tough as nails and you don’t need a nurse and you can do it all yourself. But you don’t have to. I’m here and I want to take care of you like you did for me. Please, just… let me?”

He’s rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and his eyes are full of the kind of tenderness that makes your chest ache, and it’s like the fight goes out of you all at once. You sigh, flopping back onto the bed (half for dramatic effect, half because it’s starting to make you dizzy to hold your head up for so long). “Ugh. Fine. You’re very persuasive when you want to be, you know.”

His smile lights up his entire face. “Right? It’s one of my many talents. Up there with driving fast and being absolutely devastatingly handsome.”

“Don’t forget humble,” you say dryly.

“The most humble,” he agrees cheerfully, leaning over to give you a kiss on the forehead. His lips are cool against your skin, steady and sure, and somehow they make you feel a little less awful. “Right. First things first, you’re getting a proper shower, because I know you’ll feel better clean, and while you do that I’m going to make you something to eat.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You nearly burned down your apartment trying to boil pasta water, bub. What are you about to terrorize my kitchen with?”

“Your mum’s weird soup,” he shrugs. “Already called her for the recipe. Reckon it’s not too hard.”

You blink at him, surprised. “You called my mum?”

“Well, yeah,” he mumbles, sticking his hands in his pockets shyly. “I knew it’s what you’d want. That’s what people do when they lo-” 

He stops short, color flaring high in his cheeks. “When they care about each other,” he finishes, eyes darting away from your face to the floor. 

When they love each other. It’s not like he said it, not really. But he almost did, and even though you’ve only been officially dating for less than a week the concept isn’t nearly as frightening as it should be. You don’t say it either, not now. Your fingers find his, though, and you squeeze his hand gently, like you’re telling him me too without saying anything at all. 

“Okay,” you say finally as you sit up slowly, trying to sound normal despite your racing heart. “Shower it is, then. But I swear, if you mess up my soup…” 

“You wound me,” he says, dramatically clutching at his chest. “I’m going to make you the best weird lemony broth thing this side of Somerset.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you get to your feet. But as soon as you stand, the world tilts sideways and you wobble dangerously. Lando’s there in an instant, steadying you against him. 

“Careful, love,” he says softly into your ear, hands bracing on your waist. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble even as you cling to his arm like a lifeline. “Just a head rush.”

“Are you gonna be alright to shower alone?” he asks. “Because I could definitely supervise. You know. For medical reasons.”

“Lando Norris,” you gasp, faux-scandalized.

“Nursing purposes only,” he grins down at you, goofy. “Naughty nursing purposes.”

“Ew, freak,” you snort, shoving him lightly on the chest and heading to your bathroom. 

“Still not hearing a no!” he calls after you, his giggle echoing down your hallway from the kitchen.

By the time you emerge from the shower fifteen minutes later, hair damp and feeling vaguely less awful than before, Lando’s ladling soup into an ugly kangaroo-shaped mug he got you in Australia years ago and you promptly buried in the back of your pantry. “Perfect timing,” he grins, holding out the mug to you. “Bon appétit.”

You take the mug, inspecting it carefully as you settle onto a kitchen stool. “This actually smells right.”

“Oi. Have some faith, please,” he protests. “Your mum gave me very detailed instructions. Don’t think I’ve ever had so many directions on how to cut up ginger.”

You take a tiny sip of the soup. It tastes perfect — like home and comfort and being cared for. You close your eyes for a moment just to savor the taste, the feeling of being known so well. 

“Is it okay?” Lando asks, eyes wide like he’s terrified he’s somehow managed to mess it up. 

“It’s perfect,” you admit. “Thank you.” 

He beams so bright it feels like you’re looking at the sun. “‘Course, love. Anything for you.”

You finish the soup slowly, your boyfriend watching the entire time, claiming he can see the nutrients working their way into your system. You try to protest that’s not how it works, but you’re too tired to keep up the banter for long. He senses it immediately, and you let him lead you back to your room, draping your weight across him as your world goes soft around the edges. 

“Budge over, yeah?” Lando grins as you crawl under your duvet, kicking off his sneakers before climbing into bed beside you and unpausing your episode like he’s in it for the long haul. “So. What’s going on with Harry and Helena?”

You’re just drowsy enough to gravitate into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and throwing your leg over his waist. “Who knows with those two,” you say, stifling a yawn. “But they’ll recouple, I think.”

He giggles softly, fingertips tracing against your thigh. “You’re tired, aren’t you? I give it ten minutes before you’re out cold.”

“No way, there’s a recoupling at the end of this episode. ‘Sides, I’m not that tired,” you mumble. But even as you say it, your eyelids are getting heavy. The combination of his warmth, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the comfortable weight of his arm around you is better than any medicine you could buy.

“Sure, love,” he agrees, fingers threading gently into your hair. “Whatever you say.”

Apparently, he knows you better than you know yourself, because by the first commercial break, you’re fighting to stay awake, curling further into his chest. 

“‘M sorry. You’re so gonna get sick again,” you mumble, practically on top of him and burying your face into the crook of his neck as your eyes finally slip shut. 

He sighs happily against your skin. “Totally worth it.”

[dono-harm-totonystark]

Dear anyone out there who's got my brand of autism and can't bring themselves to drink water because of its texture and/or taste; and is struggling in the summer with everyone telling you to drink water but you would rather get heat stroke and die than have water in your mouth:

it's fine.

Drink anything! Juice, sports drinks, soda, squash, tea, iced coffee, whatever you can get in you. Eat popsicles if that's better. I don't care.

Because guess what? the main ingredient in all of these IS water.

I drink soda exclusively, all the time. I have my blood & urine tested regularly. I am not dehydrated, not even in the peak of summer. Sure, I'd love to drink juice, but soda is cheaper per litre and I can buy it in bulk and it will keep, as opposed to juice that Must Be Consumed Within 24h Or Else. ("Just put it in the fridge!" my neurotypical friends say; and then my object permanence makes me forget about it, it goes bad anyway, and I don't drink anything at all for days.) I am also a medical professional. Not for humans, but water metabolism is actually pretty much the same across all mammals. I have clients call all the time like, "I'm trying to get her to drink but she's not wanting water!" GOOD! That's a good thing! It means she's not dehydrated despite whatever she may have lost or she's getting enough water from her food to supplement those losses. That is a good thing! And any nephrologist worth his salt (hon hon) will tell you the same thing: your main indicator of dehydration is thirst. If you're thirsty, and you drink fluid, and you stop feeling thirsty? Congrats! You have achieved Hydration. What kind of fluid this was is secondary. (Side point: ever noticed how most doctors/nurses ask you about 'fluid intake', not 'water intake'?)

If you don't trust yourself to feel thirst, your second indicator of dehydration is the colour of your urine. If you look down and it looks strangely dark, and you think back and you've not drank anything in hours, you should probably do so. Also, the colour going from darker to lighter over the course of the day shows whatever you do for hydration is working.

"Sugar dehydrates you" is a myth. Sugar or salt, or most other readily available oral electrolytes are not diuretics. They don't make you urinate significantly more. If you intake too much of them, they will be excreted in urine, but that urine will be no more or marginally more dilute than if you had drank water, because of your kidney's reuptake mechanisms retaining fluid when it is needed.

The reason why this myth goes around is because sugar causing increased thirst, urine dilution, and chronic dehydration is something that happens with diabetes (and some other endocrine disorders). Health issues make it so you are more susceptible to various states of being, and you should always adjust your diet and fluid intake accordingly. BUT! If you are a healthy person with good kidney and pancreas function, you can safely consume water in any form or mixture, and it will hydrate you. Pinky swear. TL;DR: there's nothing wrong with needing to avoid water and drinking other fluids, if your body is able to pick up the slack.

~ sincerely, a person who has not drank water since the turn of the millennium and continues to be alive and well

PS. For the record, I'm not saying other fluids are as healthy as water or exactly as effective (though this is probably arguable, depending on what water we're comparing to what fluid) but since not everyone can drink water and it made me feel alienated to read 'you can still drink juice only if you drink water with it!' and I've met multiple people who had similar sensory issues and thought they were alone... It just felt prudent to mention it.

PSA: i keep seeing posts about staying cool in extreme heat that include advice like "gatorade is bad actually!" and "don't drink fruit juice it'll just dehydrate you!" and neither of these are true!

regarding fruit juice: there's apparently a misconception that Any Sugar At All will dehydrate you, and that's simply not true. yes, sugar will make you pee more when consumed in large amounts, but 1) the natural sugar in fruits won't do this to you 2) great news! a lot of fruit juices exist without any added sugar in them! 3) honestly even having a glass of the fruit juice with added sugar won't completely dehydrate you as long as you're also drinking water throughout the day. if its hot you deserve a cold treat of a drink!!! can't go wrong with fruit juice!!!

regarding gatorade: maybe this isn't an every day drink, but guess what: if it's 110F/40C or hotter outside, and you don't have AC, or you're moving around a lot outside of the AC, and you're sweating buckets: that's when you drink a gatorade.

gatorade exists to replenish all the electrolytes (salt) and glucose (sugar) that you sweat out. YES it is meant for athletes to drink during intensive work outs and not necessarily for people who aren't doing that kind of exercise. BUT GUESS WHAT! when you're sweating buckets because you had to walk to the bus in extreme heat, that's intensive exercise. please feel free to drink a gatorade after that! that's its intended use case!!!!

no: neither of these drinks should be a total replacement for water. but drinking a lot of water and then treating yourself to a fruit juice with lunch is a good idea!!! drinking a gatorade becuase you just had to walk for 20 minutes in the heat is a good idea!!!

Please Stop Spreading Misinformation About Drinks!!! It's fine if you drink things that aren't water!!!! Yes you should probably always be drinking water but drinking something else As Well isn't going to hurt you!!!! okay!!!! its fine!!!!!!

honestly so long as you are consistently getting Any (non-alcoholic) fluids in you, you're doing great!!!!!! okay!!!! i love you stay safe <3

[healmydesires]

hide & seek ꕤ jinu

previous parts one & two - but all fics can be read as a standalone.

pairing: jinu x fem!angel reader

summary: What begins as playful chase evolves into something more intense and primal as Jinu hunts you through the woods.

genre: smut with a sprinkle of fluff at the end (18+ mdni)

word count: almost 3k

warnings/tags: demon x angel trope (can honestly be read as human!reader but it’s just (in my head) in the same universe as the previous jinu fics), established relationship, reader is described as shorter than jinu, soulmates. unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom jinu, sub!reader, chasing, primal play, prey/hunter role play, praise kink, dirty talk. body worship. lots of pet names. short and filthy. reader has hair, no further description though. this is not beta read sorry!

a/n: I am going insane. the Jinu brainrot is real. I always wanted to write the prey/hunter role play type of vibe… like it’s so primal ugh. obviously I had to put my own twist to it! It was cute until it wasn’t 😈 anyways I hope you enjoy!!! 🩷🥰

this goes without saying, but if you don’t like it don’t read it <3

AO3 • masterlist

The forest was alive with the whispers of the night, the air thick with anticipation as you darted between the ancient trees, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You tried to move as quietly as possible through the dense forest. Your breath came in ragged gasps, the cool night air doing little to calm the fire burning within you.

The forest, once a peaceful sanctuary, had become a labyrinth of shadows and secrets, every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs heightening your senses. You knew Jinu was out there, his presence a silent force drawing you in, a predator on the hunt. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement that coiled tightly in your core.

Jinu had given you a two-minute head start to find your hiding place, but you’d known he would eventually find you. The anticipation was intoxicating—you both eagerly awaited it and longed not to be caught.

The longer he had to search, the better it would be for both of you.

What had started as innocent hide and seek had evolved into something far more intense. In the beginning, it had been nothing more than a playful game between you two. Every time he’d caught you, you’d want to try again and again, driven by the desire to hide better, to be more strategic, to let him search longer and more thoroughly. The forest had become your playground, every tree and shadow a potential sanctuary.

But gradually, something had shifted. The innocent giggles that had once stumbled from your lips had transformed into something more breathless and deliberate. But now, as the chase intensified, the air charged with a different kind of energy—raw, primal, and undeniably sensual. What had begun as childish fun had morphed into an exquisite game of cat and mouse, where the stakes felt infinitely higher.

There had been something intoxicating about knowing he was out there, hunting for you. About understanding that when he finally found you—and he always did—he would make you scream. The knowledge that he was tracking your every movement, following your scent, listening for the slightest sound you might make, had sent thrills racing through your veins.

You heard the sound of footsteps drawing nearer and had tensed, pressing yourself deeper into your hiding spot behind the ancient weeping willow. The tree seemed to envelop you, its branches reaching out as if to protect you from Jinu closing in. Its long, silvery green leaves had cascaded around you like a natural curtain, creating some sort of cocoon around you. The bark had been rough against your back as you'd held your breath, willing yourself to become one with the tree.

Through the gossamer veil of leaves, you’d caught glimpses of a shadow moving through the forest with predatory grace. Each step had been deliberate, calculated—he'd been savoring the hunt as much as you'd been savoring the anticipation of being found.

“Come on out, sweetheart. You know you can’t hide from me forever,”Jinu had called out, his voice carrying through the trees like velvet wrapped around steel.

You’d held your breath, every muscle in your body freezing completely as he moved around the area. Your heart hammered so violently you’d been certain he could hear it echoing through the forest. The seconds had stretched into eternity as you’d waited, pressed against the rough bark, praying the willow’s curtain would keep your hiding place a secret.

To your surprise, he hadn’t looked between the cascading leaves. Perhaps he’d been too focused on the deeper shadows, or maybe he’d been playing with you, prolonging the chase. You’d waited until you’d heard his footsteps retreating further into the forest before daring to emerge from your sanctuary.

Moving like a ghost, you’d slipped from your hiding place with the fluid grace of a startled deer. Carefully parting the willow’s curtain, you peered through the gap, scanning the forest for any sign of his tall frame. When you’d spotted him disappearing deeper into the woods, you’d seized your chance and taken off toward the waterfall at the forest’s heart.

You tried to run in a straight line as well as possible, your feet finding purchase on the soft earth as you navigated around branches and low bushes that threatened to snag and reveal your whereabouts. Every step had been calculated—swift but silent, desperate but controlled. He’d been close, too close, and you’d needed to create distance as quickly as possible without giving away your position.

As you raced through the dappled moonlight filtering through the canopy, your pulse pounded in your ears, nearly drowning out the distant sound of rushing water. The waterfall couldn’t be far now—it would provide the perfect place to catch your breath and plan your next move.

“Do you want to keep running, little kitten?” The words had drifted through the forest like smoke, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. You’d spun in all directions, your eyes straining against the dim light filtering through the canopy above. Your heart had skipped as you searched frantically for his silhouette among the shadows, but the forest had offered no answers.

By the time you’d reached the crystalline pond surrounding the waterfall, your pulse had been thundering in your ears. You removed your shoes hastily, the cool grass beneath your feet a stark contrast to the heat racing through your veins. You glanced back toward the forest repeatedly, you began to lift your dress over your head when you heard it—your name, called out in Jinu’s distinctive voice.

He was still hidden somewhere in the forest, but the sound had been significantly closer than before. Much closer. The realisation had sent a delicious shiver of anticipation down your spine as you’d realised your time was running out.

Panic and excitement had warred within you as you quickly gathered your clothes, clutching them against your chest before slipping into the cool water. The pond had been deeper than expected, the water reaching your waist as you waded toward the thundering cascade. You swam toward the waterfall with desperate determination, the cool water a shock against your heated skin, before disappearing behind the curtain of rushing water.

It had been then that you’d discovered the hidden sanctuary—a small cave carved into the rock face behind the waterfall, accessible only through a narrow gap between moss-covered stones. The space had been intimate, barely large enough for two people, but it had felt like a secret world hidden from view.

“You’re getting sloppy, angel. You left your shoes here,” Jinu had called out, his voice cutting through the sound of cascading water as you’d heard him step into the pond. “It’s like you want me to find you,” he taunted, amusement threading through his tone.

You hadn’t dared to reply, focusing instead on keeping your breathing as even as possible despite the way your heart had been racing. You clutched your clothes tighter, the fabric damp against your skin, and held your breath as you heard him enter the pond. Through a gap in the rocks, you watched him wade into the water, his movements fluid and purposeful as he removed his shoes and shirt, revealing the lean muscle of his torso. He’s been searching methodically, looking for any trace of your presence, any clue that might lead him to you.

The sound of his movements was a symphony of splashes and murmurs, each step bringing him closer to your hiding place. You felt a flush of heat despite the coolness of the cave, your body betraying your fear with a tremor of desire.

When he’d been perhaps three meters away from your hiding spot, you’d carefully selected a small stone from the cave floor and thrown it toward the opposite side of the pond. The splash had been subtle but effective—you’d watched him investigate the disturbance, giving you precious moments to retreat deeper into the cave’s shadowy recesses.

You pressed your back against the cold rock, your heart hammering in your chest, your senses heightened to every sound, every ripple in the water. The cave felt smaller now, the walls closing in as the tension between you and Jinu thickened.

But then silence had fallen, and your heart had plummeted. The absence of sound had been more terrifying than any noise. Where was he? The thought that he might have somehow moved without detection, that he could appear anywhere at any moment, had made your pulse spike with equal parts fear and anticipation.

You’d risked peering around the rocky corner, scanning the water-distorted view of the pond, but you’d seen nothing. No sign of him at all.

That was when it happened. A strong hand had clamped down over your mouth at the exact moment his voice had whispered against your ear, a warm breath sending shivers down your spine: “Nice try.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he pressed a kiss to the dampened skin, his lips lingering there as if savoring the moment.

You bit your lip, fighting down the sounds threatening to slip out. Jinu grinned, sensing them, and he kissed your throat again. You could feel his teeth as he smiled, slightly sharp at the canines, and achingly gentle as they scraped against your skin.

You began to squirm against his grip, your body moving in practiced resistance as his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, lifting you effortlessly from the rocky cave floor. But you hadn’t used even half of your true strength to fight him—this dance between you had been choreographed through countless encounters. You wanted to provoke him, to stoke the fire in his eyes, but never to risk truly hurting either of you.

Your struggles had been calculated, designed to heighten the tension rather than create genuine escape. Each twist of your body against his had been deliberate, a wordless communication that spoke of defiance and surrender in equal measure. The game had reached its inevitable conclusion, but the real prize had always been this moment: getting caught, claimed, and completely at his mercy in the hidden sanctuary behind the waterfall.

Jinu’s hands came to trace your skin. His touch was reverent, yet possessive, as if he needed to remind himself of every curve, every dip, every inch of skin that belonged to him.

“This pussy is mine now, kitten,” he growled out, roughly forcing you over the edge of the rocks and pinning your hands against the surface before you.

A rough slap landed on your ass, causing you to freeze long enough for Jinu to trail his fingers along your cunt.

“You’re all naked for me, and you’re soaking wet, yet you’re trying so hard to get away from me,” he teased before his touch was gone and you heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled. “Now, you’re going to take my cock like a good girl since you made me chase you all over this godforsaken forest and lay you over these rocks, understood?”

You bit your lip to hide a smile and tried squirming under him again, only to be met with two more quick slaps to your ass that caused you to whimper. As soon as your motions faltered, he lifted one of your legs and placed it over the edge of the rock, then pushed inside you in one quick motion.

“Jinu, f-fuck!” You yelped and whimpered out all at once, eyes watering at the stretch. The stretch burned, but you were wet enough just from the chase that it didn’t truly hurt.

Jinu gave you a couple of moments to adjust before he was pounding into you with abandon. He kept a tight grip on your wrists that were still locked in his hands and a grip on your thigh that was over the edge of the rock, using them to keep you in place. With a slight change of the angle of his hips, you were moaning loudly underneath him and he was chuckling above you.

“Good girl,” he praised breathlessly, “you’re taking me so well… as if your pussy was meant for my cock.”

You clenched around him at the praise and felt his hand move from your thigh and his fingers found your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts and causing your moans to turn to desperate whimpers.

His pace was ruthless, but oh so good. The head of his cock found your spot after a few pumps, and your answering scream told him exactly where to hit. He then began slamming into the soft spot without mercy.

He wanted to carry you back to the little house you rented in the woods that night, to see you limp and twitching in his arms and unable to walk.

You screamed again as he slid particularly deep, your head lolling forward in ecstasy.

“You ran and hid so well for what? I can feel the way you already want to cum around me,” he taunted, causing a small bit of embarrassment to fill you at just how quickly he had managed to get you to the edge already.

His hips were heavy every time he thrust inside you, pounding against your ass intensely. Bliss clouded your mind as he pounded you through the numbing pleasure, bringing you to the edge of climax in minutes.

“Please, Jinu, can I cum?” You begged. The coil in the pit of your stomach grew tighter, warmer and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold off much longer.

“Of course my angel,” he said easily, “but I’m not stopping until I have my fill, too, princess.” As if to punctuate his point, the speed of his thrusts picked up and he made sure to hit that spot inside you every time.

You gave in to the pleasure, knowing he was going to keep going but not being able to hold yourself back. Your eyes rolled back, your world dissolving into pure ecstasy. You trembled, your body shaking uncontrollably as you came, your walls clenching around him in waves of pleasure.

Your nails dug into the rocks, scratching them, and the only thing that fell from your lips was a symphony of your whimpers and his name.

“Good girl,” he whispered against your ear.

With your orgasm taken care of, Jinu began focusing on his own pleasure, letting his thrusts become reckless and sloppy as he chased his own high.

Your whimpers, moans, and the way you said his name at the onslaught of pleasure only spurred him on and it was moments later that you could feel his release spilling inside of you.

He dropped his hold on your hands and both of his came to either side of you while his head dropped to the center of your back. You could feel his heavy breaths trail down your back and a slow trail of kisses going down your spine.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he teased, his fingers idly stroking your thigh. “That little rock trick almost had me fooled.” He complimented with a slight chuckle, pulling you into his arms bridal style.

You chuckled, a light, airy sound that danced on the edge of your lips. “Almost,” you emphasized, your tone dripping with faux innocence. “But you always catch me in the end.”

He pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering there as if to claim you once more. “That’s because you’re mine to catch,” he whispered against your ear.

“Next time, don’t turn your back to me.”

“I can’t wait. Next time I won’t go easy on you.” you promised with a timid giggle as you rested your head on his chest.

He chuckled before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Then, with infinite care, he carried you both back toward the moonlit pond, the silver light dancing across the water’s surface like scattered diamonds. The night air had been crisp against your skin as you’d emerged from behind the waterfall’s curtain, but his warmth had enveloped you completely. Together, you slipped into the cool water for a midnight swim, the chase forgotten in favor of gentle splashes and quiet laughter that had echoed softly through the forest.

thank you for reading <3

[star-girl69]

❦ Buttons

Daniela Avanzini … college!au

Synopsis: It turns out it was never casual.

Feel free to send Dani requests 😘

Warnings: y’all they play strip poker except it’s not poker bc idk how to play. They play strip card. Idk. I think we get the point… but just to make it clear!! Alcohol, reader drinks, probably inaccurate depictions of parties and alcohol (guys I write fanfic I don’t go out.) possessive!dani, jealous!dani, a little bit of angst but a happy ending, lots of making out, some sexual innuendos and such, the usual swearing, lmk if I missed anything!

A/n: this is my first Katseye fic but anyways I think it’s cute lmk what y’all think 😘 this fic is so long. Omg. I’m sorry. ALSO!! This fic is not a real portrayal of anyone mentioned! This is for entertainment purposes only 💗

And also yes I’m using my original side characters from my other fics BC I WANT TO!!!!

Maybe listen to … Buttons by The Pussycat Dolls (or the Dream Academy version 🙈)

—-

Your eyes flick over the elaborate Instagram post, smiling at the shameless picture of your best friend on the second slide, looking at the infographic again.

Another party your best friend is throwing.

This one is supposed to a game night with promises of seven minutes in Heaven, spin the bottle, card games, and stripping games.

You roll over in bed, turning to face your roommate.

“Jackie?”

She’s engrossed in her phone, giggling at something, but as soon as she turns to look at you a wicked smile crosses her face.

“Have you seen my beautiful new instagram post?” She smirks. “Don’t I look so pretty in it?”

You stare her down, the corner of your lips unwillingly turning up into a smile.

“Ugh. Whatever! I’m a grown woman, okay? And, besides, it’s not even my party. It’s Matty’s and his frat’s party, I’m just promoting.”

“When is it?” You relent, slightly curious, feeling a little bit better by the fact it wasn’t technically her party.

“Girl, read the fucking infographic. That shit takes time to make.”

You roll your eyes but look back to your phone anyways.

“Tomorrow. Fun. No way I’m going with one day’s notice to a themed party.”

Jackie quickly stands up at this, crossing the room to throw herself on top of you.

“No!” She shouts, straddling you and pinning your hands to the bed. “You have to come, Y/N!!”

You attempt to push her off you with a screech.

“I literally don’t!!”

“Dani will probably be there…” she says suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

Shit.

As soon as she mentions the name of your infuriating friends-with-benefits-situationship-who-you-kinda-want-to-be-more she knew that you would be coming.

An opportunity to see Dani is an opportunity to… do other things with Dani.

“Maybe I’ll come,” you shrug, but your heart beats more just at the thought of her.

“You’re so in love with her,” Jackie teases, light-heartedly.

You quickly stick a smile on her face as she relents, getting up off of you and moving to your shared closet, talking animatedly about an outfit for you to “bag a baddie” whether that’s Dani, or someone to make her jealous.

Maybe your life revolves a bit too much around Daniela.

Sometimes, laying awake in her arms after a hook up, you stare up at the ceiling and try to coach yourself into believing that you’re happy with just this. You’re happy with whatever the hell you two are. You’re okay with not having all of her.

Then you’ll remember what just happened moments earlier.

And you’ll remember the way she makes you feel, that bad habit she has of biting her lip that drives you crazy, the way she tucks your hair behind your ears even when she’s on top of you.

She always finds a way to tuck your hair behind your ear. It’s not in a weird way, and you’ve never asked her why she does it, but you like to think to yourself that it’s just another way to touch you.

Sometimes she lingers.

God, sometimes her fingers stray just a bit too long, and her eyes widen and she catches herself. She’ll tuck her hands behind her back and start biting her lip, like she’s physically restraining herself from touching you.

Holding hands is a bit too platonic. Grabbing your waist is a bit too romantic.

But this, for whatever reason, feels good. It feels right.

You usually lay in bed for a bit longer. Listening to her breathing against you. And every night you tell yourself this is the last time you’ll let yourself pretend she’s your girlfriend. And every time the cycle repeats again.

—-

“Fuckin’ Professor Davis,” you mumble to yourself, angrily zipping your bag up as you sigh heavily. Your last class on Friday is always the worst no matter what it is. So close to freedom yet so far. It didn’t help that Professor Davis was fucking infuriating.

“What are you mumblin’ about?”

Your body tenses up.

“Nothing, Dani,” you mumble.

She easily falls into step beside you, shoulders bumping, and usually her presence would brighten your day- but Jackie was sending you pictures all class of outfit options for the two of you. Now you were stressed out, annoyed by the impossible deadline Professor Davis had set- really? A three page essay due on Wednesday?

“I don’t know why I ever wait for you after your class with him. He pisses you off so much,” she teases.

“It’s not my fault he’s the most idiotic professor to ever teach ever. I mean, seriously-”

She reaches out and tucks your hair behind your ear in a gesture that’s supposed to be calming.

And you’re… kinda in love with her. So it works.

“Calm down,” she soothes. You meet her eyes. She’s smiling at you softly, amusement etched all over her face. You quickly look forward again.

“Fine, whatever,” you mumble.

“Mumbling again,” she scolds jokingly, but thankfully lets it go. “Are you going to the party tonight? I figure you are, since Jackie posted it.”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“As long as you’re there, cariño.”

Her voice drops.

“Can I see you after? Please?”

Everything in your body screams to run to her. But that part of you that is still fighting desperately not to get hurt is screaming at you to run away.

Your heart starts beating faster.

She makes you feel like you’re drowning.

“Maybe,” you say.

“I’ll change that,” she smiles. She gets closer until she’s whispering in your ear. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You fall back into it.

“Maybe, Daniela.” You shoot her a smile. Her eyes light up. This is part of it, for her. The chase thrills her. She’s a little bit like a big lion, or something. She gives off this fierceness and definitely can be, but there’s also this big cuddly side to her. And that part of her that likes to chase you around on a stick.

That’s what it’s like, you suddenly realize.

She’s chasing you around like you’re dangling on a stick in front of her. When really you’re attached to her already.

You stop in front of the door to your dorm.

“I mean, no pressure.” She backtracks. “It’s not like we’re dating. You can do whatever you want.”

And just like that, she breaks the fantasy you were building.

“Oh, yeah, obviously.”

You start walking to your dorm before you can stop and replay the conversation in your head. You don’t notice the way her jaw tightens. The slight change in her voice, like she was forcing the words out. You don’t stay long enough to notice it.

—-

She says all the right things, calls you these Spanish pet names that are ten times better than anything anyone could say in English, and you know the intention behind it is wrong.

It’s not done out of love.

It’s all transactional- she makes you feel special. You fall into her bed. Into her. Again. And… again. And you flirt right back because it feels so good to pretend.

You sigh, cheers coming from the next room over as the already drunk frat boys get the broken speaker to work again. Music starts blaring through the house.

You don’t recognize the song, but it is in Spanish.

You roll your eyes, red solo cup crunching under your tight grip. Of course everything always comes back to her.

Maybe she’ll just always haunt you.

“Fuck,” you mumble, shaking your head as you reach for a bottle of vodka and pour more of it into your shitty drink.

“Y/N,” Jackie says with a bright smile, although the concern seeps into her eyes. “You okay, babe?”

It’s 9pm, the start time Jackie wrote on her infographic. People will start showing up soon, but it won’t actually become a true party until 10.

“Pregaming,” you shrug, knowing she sees right through it.

“Okay, fuck this.”

Her hand clamps around your wrist and she drags you through the mostly empty house until she locks the two of you in the bathroom.

“You’ve been acting all fuckin’ moody lately,” she immediately accuses. Your mouth drops open in shock. “I’m sick of it. Talk to me.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I literally haven’t.”

Sure, you’ve been thinking about Dani a bit more lately, but it wasn’t outwardly noticeable.

“The last time you hooked up with Dani you came home the next morning with some really sexy bruises on your hips to be fair, but also some crazy sad look in your eyes. Then you laid in bed staring at the ceiling hugging a goddamn pillow.”

Her eyes narrow on you.

“Dani is really beautiful, but no friends with benefits shit should make you feel like shit.”

Maybe you did do that.

“It’s whatever, okay?”

“It’s not, though. Not when I can see it on your face, babe.”

She grabs your hand, this earnest look in her eyes that suddenly reminds you she’s your best friend. She’s the girl who hugged you when you would get homesick freshman year. She’s the girl who parties with you and makes sure you’re never alone. She’s the one who listens to you talk about Daniela.

“It just sucks,” you finally relent.

“Yeah?”

“Like, sometimes I want to be more. But I know that would never happen. She’s just so… Dani. She doesn’t really fit with me. She would never want me back. Like ever. So maybe it’s better to just let her go now, you know?”

Jackie draws you into a tight hug that literally fixes every broken part of your soul.

You don’t realize it when a single tear escapes your glassy eyes and rolls down your face, but she notices it.

“I don’t think I want to keep being led on like this.”

It breaks you to say that. You’ve given Dani so much of your time, finally accepting that you were only meant to love her and leave her is harder than you thought.

The thing about Daniela is not only that she’s startlingly beautiful and haunts your every waking moment, but she’s so goddamn charismatic that everyone loves her. It’s why you love her.

Jackie backs away, and you look at yourself in the mirror. Red sparkly top. Jean shorts that were way too short. Your arms wrapped around yourself and a look on your face like you had just survived a war.

“First of all, don’t think like that. You are so gorgeous, and she’s lucky to have you. Also, she’s completely in love with you. I honest-to-God think so.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay. Why don’t we just have fun tonight? Tomorrow we can talk.”

“I need to get so drunk,” you weakly laugh, wiping the tears from your face.

“I can definitely help with that.”

—-

This is definitely not the best party you’ve ever been to. But you’re so drunk that it certainly feels like it.

It’s 11, the house is now so full of people you just have to push through the crowd and hope you don’t knock someone over. So crowded that saying “excuse me” is pointless.

It’s exhilarating, this many people around, and for a while you really forget about her. Dancing with Jackie until Megan crosses your path on the dance floor.

Dani and her group of 5 other girls are inseparable.

Where one of them is, the rest of them are soon following. If Megan is here, so is Lara, Yoonchae, Sophia, and Manon. And Daniela.

Megan doesn’t see you, but by the way she’s animatedly greeting people, she probably just got here. And, shit, your eyes gravitate towards the door.

You don’t see her come in.

Jackie grabs you, obviously seeing Megan too, pulling you close to whisper in your ear.

“You good?” She asks, shouting slightly so you can hear her over the music and commotion.

You take a deep breath. You’re that perfect level of drunk where nothing can stay in your mind for too long, and all you want is to dance.

You nod.

She smiles.

Daniela appears behind her.

She’ll never want you back.

It keeps repeating in your head like a mantra. It’s written behind your eyes. It’s all you can think about.

“Hi Jackie,” she says, but doesn’t even spare her a glance.

She’ll never want you back.

Dani’s eyes rake their way up your body and you’re sure she can see you visibly swallow.

She really is like a lion. Her eyes are striking, her smile is sharp, everything about her has this sort of quality that makes it seem like she’s hiding razor sharp claws somewhere.

Her eyes are like claws now, stopping specifically around your hips and chest and leaving particularly deep marks.

“Hey, baby.”

Her smile. Your legs feel weak.

“Miss me?” She asks, joking on the fact you just saw each other a few hours ago.

“Obviously not,” Jackie says for you, a joking smile on her face. Her eyes are full of panic, glancing to you, not sure how she’s supposed to react on your behalf.

She’ll never want you back.

“H-hi,” you say back, stupidly. Your brain feels like it’s being sloshed around in a bucket of vodka.

She laughs. “Wow, you are so drunk.”

She steps closer, one hand coming to your waist, too low, fingertips brushing your ass- the other tucking your goddamn hair behind your ear.

You can’t stop staring at her eyes.

Your inhibitions are down. You’re about to make a total fool of yourself, you’re about to literally fuck her on the dance floor.

She’ll never want you back.

Someone squeezes your hand and caresses your shoulder. But it takes you a few seconds to look away from Dani, for everything to come back into focus.

The music starts blaring again. An elbow jams into your back.

She’ll never want you back.

“Y/N,” Jackie says. “I gotta go talk to Matty.”

“Wait, Jackie!” You say, needing to get away from Daniela, but she’s already disappeared into the crowd.

Dani grabs you as you try to run after her.

She’ll never want you back.

“You are way too drunk to be on your own,” she’s slightly teasing, slightly serious, and her thumb is rubbing back and forth from where she holds you by your arms. “You good?”

She’ll never want you back.

“Drunk,” you shrug. Drunk on her. And on vodka, but whatever. “I’m sorry, Dani, I really have to go.” You start trying to pull away, watching her frown.

Dani frowns. “Y/N-”

“No, I-I’m sorry. I gotta get away.”

You don’t stay long enough to see the hurt look on her face.

—-

After another few shots of reassurance, you feel a little better, a little more drunk, and now that you’re away from Dani- your head is clearer.

You would laugh if you could.

You’re so drunk your balance is shot, you can’t even think about what you’re doing, and yet you don’t feel like you’re drowning.

After watching you down three shots, Jackie had sighed, made Matty promise to watch out for the two of you, and quickly caught up.

The two of you like this with dangerously low inhibitions was probably not good… but it was too late to do anything about it.

People had been playing card games all night mixed in with some drinking, placing bets on who would win, but now the party had started to congregate in whatever room this was.

There were two couches, and in between was a small coffee table, low to the ground. There were a few decks of cards and drinks scattered about, but everyone gave the area a wide berth.

You and Jackie watched the unmoving area.

“That’s where he wants the strip poker to happen.”

“Really?” You turn to Jackie, her Instagram post suddenly flashing back to you. “Oh, yeah. Strip poker,” you giggle. “They’re all a bunch of pigs.”

“Could be fun.”

She shrugs, as if what she says is nonchalant.

You lock eyes before she suddenly bursts into laughter.

But something inside of you lights up.

“Wait, let’s do it.”

“What?” She gawks. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? We’re single…ish. Hot.”

For once, this excitement doesn’t have you thinking about Dani.

Jackie thinks it over.

Matty suddenly comes up behind the two of you, all of you forgetting his earlier promise to watch out for you two, and he’s clearly just as drunk.

“Did I hear you say you wanna play?”

You and Jackie share one last look.

—-

“Ladies and gentlemen, my drunk guys and girls, welcome to another one of my fuckin’ amazing parties!”

The crowd cheers.

You and Jackie are sitting across from each other at the table, being given random kitchen table chairs and told that you’re more than welcome to stand on them. You smile. You’re happy.

“Tonight is our main event. My two beautiful friends, Jackie and Y/N, are going to give everyone a wonderful show of… strip poker!!”

The house literally shakes with how much cheering happens.

“Remember to pay 5 dollars to me if you haven’t!” He shouts, before unceremoniously and rather quickly dealing each of you seven cards. “You draw one card at a time. Whoever gets the lower number has to take something off. Aces beat everything.”

He flashes both of you a bright smile before stepping back.

You’re not nervous. You’re not thinking about her. You cross your legs on the chair, a few boys whistle, and that only makes you feel more confident.

“Ready?” Jackie asks, smiling wide, giddy and excited.

“Yes,” you say, sporting and equally cheery smile.

“3..!” Matty starts counting down.

You grab a card.

“2..!”

Your stomach flips.

“1..!”

You swear you see a flash of something familiar in the crowd.

You both flip your cards.

Jackie draws a 10. You draw a 6.

The crowd erupts into cheers and whistles.

You smile, standing up as you place one of your legs on the chair. You run your hand down your legs before finally slipping your shoe off.

“Nope! Nope!” Matty shouts. “Shoes aren’t technically an item of clothing, but I’ll allow it if you take both off.”

This is met with more cheers.

You’re honestly kinda flattered by how many people want you to take your clothes off. You pretend to pout, when really you feel great. This was the reminder you needed.

So what if Dani didn’t want you back? Someone else in this crowd could take her spot.

You take your other shoe off with the same amount of fanfare before sitting back down.

Jackie loses the next round and takes off her shoes too.

Jackie loses again.

She undoes her belt and throws it to Matty.

You lose.

You don’t have enough clothing to be playing this.

Thankfully you do have a pair of fishnets on, but all of this cheering is kinda getting to your head, so you stand up on the chair. You wobble a bit and the crowd laughs, but you steady yourself by bending over and grabbing onto the back of it. Jackie and the group of people behind her cheer a little louder.

You start rolling down your fishnets, letting them shimmy down your ankles, and finally kicking them off into the crowd.

They were ripping, anyways.

“Spin! Spin! Spin! Spin!” The crowd chants.

You laugh. “You want me to spin?” You shout.

You glance at Jackie, but she only laughs and starts clapping to encourage you.

You twist your hands up into the air, tilting your head back slightly to expose the column of your neck. You do a few spins, looking back down at the crowd. The faces mostly bend together, and it’s mostly boys like Matty in the crowd, clearly enjoying the show.

You feel this sense of headiness that reminds you of when it’s good with Dani. You feel this all rush to your head, this admiration. You may have a giant ego after all of this.

That’s when you see her. When you really remember that she’s there, she’s real. She was almost yours.

But she’ll never want you back.

She’s in the crowd with a few of her friends who are cheering for you and smiling. They’re all sweet, and you wave to them.

Dani’s eyes are dark. She’s practically glaring at you. Her red solo cup is getting crushed in her tight grip.

Good, you think to yourself. You’re not stupid. You’re sure she has a roster. She can find someone else because she’s incapable of choosing you and committing.

You blow her a kiss.

You sit back down, feeling flushed and exposed. But in a weird good way. Maybe you wouldn’t be doing this if you were sober. But you’re drunk, and there’s nothing you can do.

At this point, Jackie has grabbed her cards and started standing on the chair too. You grab one of yours, feeling hundreds of eyes rake over your body the way that Dani’s do.

A drumroll starts.

You flip your cards.

You lose again.

Now you really don’t have anything else to give up.

Jackie throws her head back and laughs.

Your hands find the ends of your shirt, lifting it up over your head, leaving you in your short shorts and a red lacy bra.

The crowd goes absolutely crazy. You can’t stop smiling.

You can’t help but look towards Dani again. She’s facing Manon, her best friend, looking back at your intermittently.

Your heart stutters as you realize she’s angry.

She keeps gesturing to you.

Manon looks to be trying to calm her down. Sophia is holding onto her arm like she had tried to run up to the chair and stop you.

You look away, taking a steadying breath.

The sixth round. Jackie loses and takes off her shirt too, leaving herself in a bra and shorts just like you. At least she still has her tights on.

The last round.

You lose.

You start to fiddle with the buttons on your shorts. There’s two of them, and you have fun unbuttoning them slowly, biting your lip as you do so, sharing a few charged glances with Dani- who can’t take her eyes off of you.

You finally slip them off. Someone whistles so loud it actually kind of hurts your ears. You flick them off onto the floor.

Jackie shrugs before raising her hands in the air.

“I may as well join you!” She shouts, slipping off her own shorts.

She’s two far away to reach, but you suddenly wish you could hold her hand.

After a few more seconds of standing up there, a bunch of boys rush forward to help you off of the chair, one guy actually getting on his hands and knees in front of you as a very ineffective stepping stool. You grab two random hands as you step onto the guys back, before finally stepping off and onto the floor again.

At the bottom of this staircase of men is Dani and her group.

Megan and Lara are laughing hysterically at all of the men reaching for you.

You walk forward, hips swaying. Lara and Megan immediately bow down and grab your hands jokingly.

“Oh my god, you were so good!” Megan says, smiling as she stands up again.

“You are so hot,” Lara compliments simply. “Do you wanna get out of here?” She wiggles her eyebrow suggestively before bursting into more laughter.

“I think I have a very long roster now,” you laugh. “But I’ll add you.”

“Oh thank you Y/N, the amazing sexy Y/N.”

Yoonchae is the next to speak up. She’s an exchange student from Korea, and you smile at the way her cheeks are a little pink from just watching you.

“I’m scared,” she says. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“We get crazy in America, babe!” Lara shouts.

You finally bring yourself to look at Dani, placing your hands on your waist.

Manon is standing shoulder to shoulder with her. Sophia is smiling at you but holding Dani’s hand tightly.

“Did you guys like it?”

“Um, yes!!” Sophia shouts. “You really put on a show! Are you sure you don’t wanna change your major to theatre?”

“I think I have a boner,” Manon jokes with a shrug.

Dani, who had been silently glaring at you the entire time, finally seems to break at this. While the rest of you erupt into laughter, she breaks out of Sophia’s grip and grabs your wrist.

“You need to come with me. Now.”

“Dani,” you start. Her grip on your wrist is possessive.

“Shut up.”

Her friends all try to interject but she’s suddenly pulling you through the crowd. You’re too surprised to even think about letting you go.

You find yourself in a hallway.

She opens one door. Someone shouts and you get a glimpse of two people on a bed.

“Oh god,” you mumble.

She drags you to the next door.

“Dani. What the fuck are you doing?” You try to tug her to stop, but she quickly rejects that and pulls you forward.

The next door is locked.

“Fuck,” she curses, taking you to the next door.

“Dani!” You shout.

The next door is open and empty.

She pulls you inside. She doesn’t even bother to turn the lights on, but the light to the adjoining bathroom was left on, giving you enough light to see her.

Seeing Dani in the dark is all you’ll ever do. Unless you get out now, you’re stuck in this cycle forever. She told you when you first started this that she’s not ready for commitment. And you respect that, and you love being with her- but you can’t keep pretending that you’re okay with only having some of her.

She unzips her hoodie and puts it over your shoulders.

“Please. You look like you’re freezing.”

“Dani.” You take a breath, zipping up her jacket, not feeling well enough to be completely exposed to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Like actually?”

“Um, with me? You fucking blew me off earlier. Next time I see you, you’re getting fucking naked for the entire goddamn party.”

“We are not dating,” you remind her. “And also, don’t slut shame me. I can do whatever I want.”

She leans against the door, her head hitting the back of it. Her neck is exposed, and you think back to the last time you were with her, how you kissed up her neck.

Sadness burrows deep inside you before your anger resolves.

“I can do whatever I want,” you repeat. “You told me this was casual. Besides, I’m sure you’ve been fucking other girls.”

Okay, that wasn’t true. But you’re angry.

Her mouth gapes open in shock.

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Don’t be dumb, Daniela. You’re, like, the most popular girl here. You could have anyone.”

“You don’t be dumb. You’re the only girl I’m fucking. Are you serious? Why would I even look at anyone else when you’re right in front of me.”

“Whatever. You wanted this to be casual. Remember that, Dani.”

She jumps off of the door. She grabs your face with one hand, her fingers digging into your cheeks and kisses your roughly. It’s all emotion. It’s all anger, jealously, every ugly emotion that she bares openly to you in this messy kiss.

It feels like fireworks. Like butterflies. Like what all the cliches say it’s supposed to feel like.

She finally lets you pull away. A string of split connects the two of you. Her lipstick and yours is smeared on her face. You’re both breathing heavily, her pupils are dilated, her eyes moving from your lips, pouted due to her tight grip on your cheeks, back up to your eyes.

“I’m changing my mind- no. I have changed my mind, Y/N. I want all of you. I’ve wanted all of you. For a long time. And I wish I told you sooner, because this was the worst night of my life.”

She smiles like that solves anything.

It all starts to click in your head.

“Are you serious?” You push her hand off of your face.

Her smile falters.

“I’m in love with you, hermosa.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?” She asks, looking genuinely confused.

“You wanted this to be casual. You led me on for months, Daniela. You made me feel like shit. I-I lost so much. So much of my self-respect and my confidence letting you drag me around. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you. And tonight was good for me. It… made me feel good again.”

You didn’t even know you were feeling like this until she was in front of you with your lipstick on her face and you were suddenly shouting at her.

But it’s always been there.

The reason you thought she would never want you back… maybe it wasn’t anything she did. Maybe it was just your own brain making stuff up.

“I don’t think you could ever love me.”

“Herm- Y/N-”

“I think I want to be alone right now.”

“Oh.”

She looks like a kicked puppy.

You want to leave. But you can’t bring yourself to.

“It doesn’t matter that I love you?”

You take a step towards her and the door. You can’t decide which one you’re stepping towards.

“Because I do. I love you. I was literally about to step up there grab you off of that chair myself. I-I was so jealous. Like embarrassingly jealous. I think I discovered things about myself,” she laughs quickly before sobering up again. “And I just… I just want you.”

She steps closer.

“Please just say you love me back.”

“I do love you, Dani.”

Her eyes soften.

“But I need to, like, think about myself for once. Seriously. So I can’t… I can’t do this right now. As much as I want too.”

The silence stretches out.

“Say it one more time,” she whispers, finally looking away from you, eyes fixing on the floor.

It’s easy to say because it’s true.

“I love you, Daniela.”

—-

When you leave the bedroom, tears are streaming down your face. You’re not looking where you’re going, too busy trying to keep mascara from running down your face. It’s no surprise when someone says your name and softly stops you.

“Manon,” you say, taking a deep breath. Dani still hasn’t left the bedroom you were in.

“What happened?” She asks, in a way that tells you she’s not demanding, but simply open to listening.

“How much did you know?”

You’re not sure how much of what you did Dani told her friends.

“I know you guys were having sex,” she says, cautiously.

“Mhm.” You laugh dryly. “And we just confessed our love for each other, so, yeah.”

Her brows furrow. “Wait. Then why-”

A door behind you creaks open and shut.

Manon looks up and you can tell by her reaction that it’s Dani leaving the bedroom. You can feel her eyes on your back.

“I’m gonna go,” you mumble, slipping away from Manon and into the crowd of people. She hesitates but doesn’t stop you.

You lose yourself in the anonymity of the crowd.

Manon draws Dani into a hug, comforting the brunette as she does her best not to cry. “Babe, what happened?”

“She loves me,” is all Dani can think to say. Because that’s all that matters.

—-

You wake up the next morning hungover. Your head pounds, you can hear Jackie throwing up in the bathroom, and you remember everything.

How good it felt playing that game. How good it felt to know that Dani loved you. How much it hurt to know that you needed to step away to love yourself.

You stare at the ceiling, unmoving, listening to Jackie in the bathroom and trying to will away your own nausea. When she comes back, she flops onto your bed which makes your head scream.

“Jackie!” You moan, putting your hands over your eyes.

“What happened with Dani?”

“Damn. No hi? How are you?”

“Girl.”

After the talk with Dani, you had quickly found Jackie and left with her… without some of your clothes. You hadn’t wanted to talk about it last night, but it was obvious something had happened. You felt like you had been drowning, on the brink of death, and had finally been returned to air. All you wanted to do was sit here and breathe… even though you yearned for the touch of the hands that were drowning you.

“Y/N?” She pries, gently. She’s laying on her side, tucked in next to you with her head on your shoulder. “I saw her drag you off. What happened after that?”

You sigh.

“She… told me she’s in love with me.”

“WHAT?!”

“JACKIE!”

You hiss, digging your hands into your temples as she groans too. After a minute of recovery, your headaches have both faded back to their regular dull stabbing.

“Sorry. But what. The. Fuck. I fuckin’ knew it, first of all.”

“Oh, well that’s nice for you,” you remark sarcastically.

“And… why isn’t that good?”

“Because I hated myself when I was with her. You were literally the one who told me that she shouldn’t make me feel like shit.”

“Okay, true. But half of that stuff you were freaking out about was in your head. Babe, it was obvious she was in love with you.”

“Well why didn’t you tell me?!!”

“I literally did.”

“Whatever,” you mumble, not emotionally ready to handle that. “I think it’s pretty over. Or it will be over, once we get over each other.”

“But.. you’re in love with each other? I think you can learn to love yourself while she loves you too. Actually, that may be helpful. Like, I can tell you you’re beautiful, but I am not going to kiss you. Sorry.”

“Rude,” you gasp.

“Like, you’re hot, but Dani would kill me. I saw her while we were playing. She was pissed.”

“She told me she was jealous,” you admit.

“She wasn’t just jealous, she was, like, crazy possessive. She did not stop looking at you the entire time. Except for when she started arguing with Manon. She looked like she wanted to kill everyone in the room and then fuck you.”

She pokes you.

“Girl, that’s kinda hot.”

You stare at the ceiling.

“That’s okay. I know you like it.”

“Anyways,” you sigh, ignoring your best friend’s giggle. “I think I just need some time?”

“That sounds like a question, babe.”

“Because I don’t know!” You sigh. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, well, I guess you should take some time to think. But I am team Dani, just so you know.”

“Thanks, Jackie,” you roll your eyes, wincing when it aggravates your headache.

“You do know you fell asleep in her hoodie though, right?”

You sit up on instinct, looking at the hoodie in shock. It’s hers. The one she put on you in the bedroom.

“Fuck.”

Your stomach turns.

“Fuck.”

“I’m supporting you from over here,” Jackie says as you run into the bathroom.

Dani: I hope ur not too hungover this morning.

Dani: If u ever need anything I’m here. Always

—-

The next time you see Daniela is after your Monday class with Professor Davis. Luckily, he was tame today, because you and Daniela always cross paths in this hallway.

You go the same direction at the same time. She always finds you in this hallway and walks you to your dorm. It used to be something cute that made you feel special. That made it easier to pretend like you were really dating.

When you exit the lecture hall, the first thing you do is look at her. She’s walking down the hallway, but looking straight ahead in an almost unnatural way. You hesitate at the door.

You watch as she finally gives in, sneaking one glance over to your lecture hall as she walks past.

Your gazes lock immediately.

Someone walking out of the classroom bumps into your back. You don’t even acknowledge it.

She looks away first.

Then glances back again.

—-

Matty places a McDonald’s bag on your desk.

“I’m sorry about not taking care of you guys on Friday.”

“It’s ok, Matty,” you say, grabbing the fast food bad from him and smiling at the correct order. “Thank you very much.”

Despite the shit you and Jackie sometimes give him, he really is a good guy. And by frat standards, he’s an angel.

“If it makes you guys feel any better, you were both really sexy.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

“We know,” Jackie says at the same time.

“A few of the guys already asked me if I can throw another party with strip poker again,” he laughs.

“Maybe we should perform again,” you joke.

“For real?” Matty asks, face turning serious.

“No,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh. No, yeah, that’s cool. A few guys asked for your guys numbers, too. But I shut that down.”

“I dunno,” Jackie starts, picking at a throw pillow in her lap. “I think Y/N needs a little something-something.”

“About Dani, right?” Matty asks. “I saw you two getting pretty heated but you disappeared with her before I could get over there.”

“Well,” you sigh, and Jackie lays back in her bed with a loud groan. You ignore her. “You know how we were having sex, right? Turns out we were both in love with each other. But I thought she was just kinda leading me on and I felt like shit, so now I’m like… taking space, I guess.”

“But you’re both in love with each other?” He frowns.

“Not the point. I need to love myself.”

“Sure,” he mumbles. “We are throwing another one this Friday too. We forgot it was the chapters birthday on Friday, or else we wouldn’t have thrown the last one.” He glances at you with a smirk. “Wanna make sure Dani’s there and then pole dance?”

You laugh.

“Sure!”

“Wait, for real?” You roll your eyes at his serious face.

Jackie throws a pillow at him.

“Obviously not, Matty. God, men are so stupid sometimes.”

“Damn, okay. Will you post again, Jacks?”

“Of course,” she smiles. “And Y/N- I think a distraction could be good for you. A one night stand, you know? Either to forget about her or make you realize that you’re meant to be with Dani. I prefer the second option.”

She smiles.

You glare back.

“Whatever. We’ll be there.”

—-

You: hey I still have your hoodie

Dani: keep it

You: Idk if that’s a good idea

Dani: keep it anyways

Dani: I’m not giving up on us

“Okay, so,” Jackie starts, looking up from your phone. “First of all, oh my god that is so hot. Second of all, I don’t think you should say anything else. Leave her wanting more, you know?”

You sigh, taking the phone back from her and looking at the text chain. Not only did she infuriatingly text back 10 seconds after you texted her, like she was just sitting around waiting for you to talk to her again, but her chasing you did feel… kinda good.

You understood why Dani did like a little bit of a cat and mouse game. It feels good to be wanted.

—-

This outfit feels like you’ve accidentally played another game of strip poker, and every time you lost, you had to take a pair of scissors to these tiny shorts and purple top marked with cut outs, showing so much skin you feel like you should pray just for wearing it.

You hug the wall. You’re not drunk enough to feel confident yet, and Dani will probably be here, and you think about her more than you should for someone who just walked away from her.

Jackie finally comes back, handing you two shots.

“Hey!” She scolds, watching you try to pull up and down on your outfit simultaneously. “Stop that. Now drink and be fun again.”

You sigh.

“I probably shouldn’t be using alcohol as a confidence booster.”

“No, probably not.”

You scan the party. Still no sign of Dani or any of her friends.

“You’re looking for her,” Jackie teases. “I can tell.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, hiding behind the now empty shot glass.

“Did you, like, want her to prove that she loves you?”

You toy around with the idea. “Maybe? Is that bad? That I don’t even know why I’m doing this?”

“No, because I know.”

You look towards her with a smile, but her face is serious.

“You’re overthinking it. You were sad when you were with Dani because you thought she would never choose you. Then she chose you, you got scared, but you want her back.”

She leans in closer.

“You need to get out of your head and let her prove that she loves you.”

“Jackie,” you groan, too overwhelmed.

But you know she’s right. You keep staring into the crowd, hoping she’ll pop up again. Remembering how good it felt to know that she wanted you until that self-sabotaging sadness and anger took over. Remembering the way she kissed you. The way she grabbed you. The way she said she wanted to take you off of that chair.

Jackie slaps your ass.

“Come on, girl! You look sexy! Go dance, and I’m sure as soon as she walks in she’ll be sliding all up on you.”

The alcohol is slowly starting to make you feel a little looser…

“I’m not going alone.”

Jackie grabs your hand.

—-

The dance floor is decidedly unsexy. There are green strobe lights making everything look kinda sickly, it’s hot, you’re sweating, and you’re surrounded by a bunch of hot and sweaty people.

It doesn’t help that half of these frat boys are practically seven feet tall and looming over everyone else, either.

Jackie had abandoned you a while ago, but you were okay with that.

You feel good.

You feel eyes on you.

It makes you feel like you did on that chair.

And it helps that you’ve had like 10 more shots.

A body appears behind you, hot skin pressing against your exposed back- you immediately know it’s not her. You turn around only to find some random frat boy with an unbuttoned shirt grinding up on you.

He grins.

You’re drunk and lose your balance, and he immediately swoops in to steady you.

“Remember me? I’m the guy you stepped on last week.”

You do laugh at that.

“That was you? Well, thanks.” Too busy thinking about her to really look at him.

He leans forward, breath hot in your ear.

“Wanna give me a private show?”

You pull back, stomach sinking, awkward smile on your face.

“Thanks,” you start, putting your hands on his chest to slowly try to push him back, his hands remaining tight on your waist. “But no thanks.”

“Come on, you know you want too, sweetheart.”

And the only thing you can think is that it’s not in Spanish.

Suddenly his hands are pushed off of you and replaced by familiar hands, by hands that you would know anywhere, the hands that could drown you and you would still want more.

“No touching,” she says to him, a faux gasp in her scolding tone. Her fingers splay out across your hips. You can practically hear the smirk in her voice.

He looks between the two of you.

“Threesome?”

“Ew,” you automatically blurt out.

Dani hums.

“I’m not big on sharing.” Her arms wrap around you tighter. “You can go now. She’s good here.”

“Whatever,” the guy, who never even told you his name, says before ducking his head in embarrassment and disappearing into the crowd.

But you’re too focused on the way Daniela is touching you. She kisses your neck and your entire body shudders.

“Every time I see you at these parties you’re always getting someone else’s attention.”

She needs to stop whispering in your ear in that tone of voice.

“Dani,” you start, but your voice is breathy. You’re shaking in her arms. You think it’s anticipation. “What are you doing?”

“I told you. I’m not giving up. But I’ll stop if you really want me too.”

You don’t speak.

She smiles and kisses your neck again.

“That’s what I thought.”

You place your hands over hers.

“Dani.”

It’s a warning. To her. To yourself.

“Hermosa.”

You told her not to call you that. But she’s obviously testing your boundaries… and you don’t say anything again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly breathe.

You can feel her confusion against you.

“Wh-”

She barely gets the word out before you whip around in her arms, plant your hands on her cheeks, and slam your lips onto hers.

She kisses you back immediately, her hands running up and down your sides like she’s trying to touch as much of you as possible. Like her hands are covered in paint, and the more of you she touches the more that everyone can see you’re hers.

That you never stopped being hers.

Both of you are hungry and the kiss is just as messy as the last one, except this one is so much sweeter because you both know you won’t ever go back to what this last week has been again. You’ll never let her go again. She’ll never let you go again.

She starts kissing your cheek, moving down to your jaw, your neck, mumbling something.

“Espléndida,” she keeps repeating. “Beautiful, hermosa, you’re so beautiful, so beautiful…”

“Dani,” you say, staring into the green strobe light across the room and letting the dots burn across your vision. You would be okay with going blind if she was the last thing you got to see.

She bites down hard on your neck. You gasp but pull her closer, your hands tangling in her curls.

“I want you to be mine,” she says against your skin, kissing the red mark she just made. “Please be mine.”

It hits you.

She’s begging for you.

Daniela has never begged for anyone in her life. Not Daniela, perfect Daniela either her perfect hair and outfits and mouth. With her perfect words and the way she speaks Spanish when she’s losing herself in you.

There are people all around you. You can barely hear her over this loud uptick in the music, and she’s whispering into your ear that she wants you, all she wants is you, her hand curling around the base of your neck.

Another hickey slowly forming.

Someone taps your shoulder.

“What?” You mumble.

“Um, guys,” the voice says, slightly sheepish.

Dani lifts her head from your neck, cheeks flushed with… jealousy?

“Can you not?” She immediately hisses without even seeing who it is.

Megan and Lara stand in front of you.

Megan is at least trying to hide her laugh. Lara is just doubled over hysterically crying.

“I don’t know if you guys noticed.,, but a lot of people are looking at you and you’re basically fucking in front of everyone.”

You finally glance around, nameless faces immediately turning away and staring at anything else.

“Um…” you start, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“We’re clearly busy,” Dani answers for you.

“Okay, damn, Miss Possessive,” Lara laughs, holding her hands up in mock defense. “Nobody is gonna take her from you.”

Dani hasn’t moved her hands from your neck and your waist.

“Just leave us alone,” she groans, throwing her head back, voice slightly whiny. “Seriously, guys.”

“All I’m saying is your car is literally parked outside,” Megan shrugs.

Dani blinks. Grabs your hand.

“We’re leaving.”

Lara stops you, putting her hand on your shoulder.

“Wait, Y/N. Do you feel safe?”

You burst out laughing.

Dani tugs you closer to her.

“Shut up, Lara!”

Her cheeks are red as she drags you through the party, ignoring your laughter, she only stops to let you snatch a mostly empty bottle of vodka you insist on grabbing… sensing you may need some liquid courage to get through this conversation.

But you hope there isn’t a lot of talking.

Dani’s red Mustang is parked a little ways down the street, and you don’t talk the entire way there. You’re trying to hide the bottle of vodka in your jacket, and she’s intently holding onto your hand.

The sun is setting. The sky is painted dark purple and pink.

The car is eerily quiet. It’s definitely different in the light. Without the anonymity of the dark, you feel as exposed as you did during the game. But the way her gaze lands on you- she makes you feel held and loved even when the console of the car separates you.

She makes you feel as heady as you did performing for all those people.

You bring the bottle to your lips and choke down a disgusting sip before handing it to Dani. She does the same.

“Dani,” you start, but your breath hitches when she reaches over and puts a hand on your thigh. Like it’s casual. Like it’s meant to be there.

“Yeah?”

You take a breath. You have to say this now, because everything about her makes you want to climb over and kiss her. Hard.

“I’m sorry.”

She frowns.

“Why? You don’t have to be sorry, baby.”

“Dani-”

“Wait,” she stops you, squeezing your thigh so you look at her instead of your hands. “Can I say something?”

You can’t stop looking into her eyes. Her entire face is full of real, earnest honesty.

You nod.

“You… told me that you felt like you weren’t good enough for me.”

She pauses. Your heart sinks, but you nod again.

“So it’s my fault. I should have showed you I loved you better.”

“No,” you sigh, looking away again. “You didn’t do anything. No- I mean- you did everything right. It was all me being stupid. I was just…” it takes you a second to say the word. “Insecure. Really insecure. And then I got scared when it got real. But I love you, Dani. And I’m sorry I ran away.”

She grabs your chin, softly angling your face toward her. She’s smiling.

“You came back. That’s all I care about.”

“I did.”

You smile.

You lean forward to kiss her, but she leans back, biting her lip.

“I’m not gonna kiss you, baby. Not until you say it.”

“Say what?” You ask.

The way she tucks your hair behind your ear. The way she makes you feel. The way she holds you. The way she kisses you. The way she’s so kind, so smart, so talented. The way she’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

“That you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Dani,” you breathe, watching as that feline look crawls its way home onto her face.

“Yeah?”

“I’m yours, Daniela Avanzini.”

Her lips part, corners of her mouth still curled up, and she leans forward achingly slow- then stops.

“Hermosa, I spent a week without you and went crazy.” Her hand moves higher, toying with the end of your jean shorts. “We’re going to need some rules.”

“Rules?” You smile. “Maybe I don’t feel safe.”

She squeezes your thigh like a warning.

“I think you like me like this.”

You don’t respond, and that’s answer enough.

“First of all, clothes like this are for me only.”

She kisses your jaw, lips lingering there.

She’s right. You do like her like this.

“Second, you need to talk to me. I don’t want you to ever feel like that again, baby. You’re mine and I’m yours. I’m not going away.”

You nod. “I will, Dani.”

The way she cares about you makes her even sexier.

“And please, for the love of God, Y/N, don’t ever play a stripping game again.”

You laugh together, leaning forward until your foreheads are touching.

The kiss is sweet and soft. It’s not rough or angry, or charged with insane amounts of desire. It’s the kind of kiss that you don’t have to think about, because you know you’re gonna do it again and again.

She pulls back with a smile before reaching next to her and pulling her seat all the way down until she’s lying flat.

Her cropped shirt leaves her stomach exposed, and you have to tear your eyes away from her.

She pats her thighs.

“Sit, baby.”

You make your way over the console, heart continuing to beat faster and faster until you’re straddling her, her hand resting comfortably on your ass.

She grabs the vodka and hands it to you.

You can feel her watching the column of your throat as you swallow, a drip of liquid trailing down your lips and chin in your haste to get the burning stuff down your throat.

She tucks your hair behind your ear again and this time- she lets her fingers linger. Openly.

She sits up, her tongue darting out onto your sweaty skin, lapping up the trail of vodka until she reaches your lips, leaving one final chaste kiss there.

She grins. She’s like a cat. But she’s yours.

“I think your girlfriend should get one of your infamous shows. Right, mi hermosa?”

“Of course, baby.”

You smile, reaching down to slowly undo the buttons of your shorts.

—-

[heazueken]

Well Needed Fix

*ೃ༄ summary: Volt's a bit worried that Eddie may be falling back into some old habits since you three got together and he has an idea..

warning(s): MDNI, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, oral sex, voyeurism

pairing(s): EddiexVoltxReader (AFAB, gender neutral)

w/c; 8.4k

a/n: would you believe me if I told you this was supposed to be like 3k words max LOL google docs says this is 17 pages...OKAYYYY. I cant stop yapping unfortunately...anyway my requests are open btw if you want me to write more of these guys! Please enjoy!!

-

You’re sitting with Volt at the bar of the Breaker Box after a wild night of more of the objects crazy antics and performances. Volt had poured you a simple soda at your request and he wipes down the counters, lost in thought. His hair jolts with electricity and he tosses it over his shoulder. He’s stripped of his large jacket— having draped it over your chair (you can still feel the warmth radiating from it). His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and his vest hugs much tighter around his waist than Eddie’s. He’s humming a god-awful tune that Johnny Splash had decided to subject the audience to but hearing him hum it almost made it better than the original. 

Volt breaks the silence.

“Y’know, Live wire,” you pause, holding your glass up to your lips and glance up at the man leaning across the bar. You set it down when you see his knit brows and troubled gnawing of his bottom lip.

“I’ve been thinking…about some things since our whole…debacle a couple weeks back.” 

You know he’s referring to that night. Eddie, almost to tears, refusing to let Volt go. Forcing a shut down on the power— a restart. The lights going out, darkness enveloping you only for them to flick back on and see the two of them still standing there. Your two boys, still together and now together with you. 

Ice clinks to the bottom of your glass as you set it down on a coaster. Arms fold across the bar and you look up at the man who towers over you.

“Thinking…?” 

He tosses a rag over his shoulder, he stares off to the side, eyes almost flickering like a bulb ready to be changed. 

“I know we’ve— you’ve helped Eddie take a load off— in more ways than one, I might add,” He teases, relieving some of the tension he knew you were holding. “But, I’ll be honest, love…He’s still working himself to the bone. I’m scared he’ll go back to his old ways.”

You see the pain in his face, the way his chin drops almost completely to his chest. He gently lays a few fingertips where his shirt exposes the white skin of his chest.

“Us being…connected in such a way. I can feel his anxiety, frustration, pridefulness and…” He lets his hand drop. “His fear, too.”

Perplexed, you cock your head, you hope he meets your gaze but once you ask, Volt almost completely turns away from you.

“Fear? What does Eddie have to be afraid of?”

He’s quiet for a good moment. Sparking hair flows like rays of lightning down his shoulders and over his back and you see it change into a more blue hue before you hear him take a full deep breath as it fades back to his bright white. He turns to you again, a sad smile drawn across his face but you can see in his eyes that the smile does not reach there.

“Afraid of being vulnerable? Afraid of being the one that deserves love? Afraid to accept that love?”

You can’t say you’re too shocked. You knew there was a part of Eddie that’s much less…well, eccentric than his counterpart. That was almost the point of Volt though, let him have the spotlight so Eddie can keep the club up and running. He just didn’t expect that this birth (he hates you using that word but what else is it?!) would almost add more pressure to his already stressful life.

You know he doesn’t resent Volt for all this. No, he cares too much about him— that much was true considering the way he reacted to the possibility of losing his other half forever. 

You always wondered why that— besides the night you two officially got together— Eddie barely participated in the more sexual aspects of your relationship. Almost afraid to touch you and Volt, stepping away when a kiss was planted on your lips by the lightning haired man, or even making excuses as to why he couldn’t join you both on the bed during the early morning hours of the club’s closure. 

“I gotta get the club ready for tonight,” he grumbled, shrugging on his vest and clearly bothered with something. You always want to ask and fix it immediately, looking to Volt who reads your expression easily when Eddie is out the door.

“He’ll be fine, my spark. He just needs some time.”

You usually were able to get a word in after closure, but Eddie would excuse you away, flicking his bruised hand. Yes, you did notice the bruises, even more than there were when you first met. It worries you and you grow as concerned as Volt.

You run the tip over your finger over the rim of your glass, staring into the melting cubes of ice. 

“Yeah…I can see that.” You look up. “Finally tired of dismissing it? You two are so cryptic sometimes.”

Volt sighs, his chest falling with the release of air and he stumbles back around the bar to sit next to you. He scoots the stool so close that his shoulder brushes yours. Even after being skin-to-skin and having him whispering filthy things in your ear, you still feel that flip of your stomach and burst of butterflies. He wraps an arm around you, leaning in a way where his hair creates a barrier so no one can eavesdrop on your conversation— not like there was anyone around anyway.

“I’m protective. There’s a difference.”

“I think we’re passed being protective considering I’m in a relationship with you both, don't you think?” 

Volt gives you a look, his eyebrows tilt in an apologetic way, lips parting to begin his speech you’ve heard tons of time. You place a hand on your chest and mockingly lower your voice to match his pitch and accent before he can even get the words out.

“My live wire, it’s simply different between me and Eddie. We need not your worry for our concern. Nothing against you, of course.” You match a wink just as he does every time.

He’s clearly taken aback and you almost see the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Took the words right out of my mouth, spark.”

It’s not funny this time. You almost want to shove him away, your elbow digs into his pec and he backs off just a little— perhaps taking the hint.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t make me feel like I’m part of this relationship.”

He seems confused, brows knit together and you don’t like seeing a frown on his face but it’s what you feel.

“I don’t like that you guys still hide stuff from me. I get that we’re still getting to know each other, but I feel like I should be able to help emotionally in a relationship,” You get up to leave, hopping off the stool after successfully elbowing Volt’s arm from around you.

Before you can even take two steps, he grabs your wrist.

“Y/N,” It shocks you so much to hear him say your name that you whip your head around to stare with wide eyes. Volt looks…sad…you’ve never seen him like this since that night. You turn around, wrist still in his hand. When he realizes you’re not going anywhere, his grip loosens but he doesn’t let go. “Forgive me. It’s why I called you here tonight.“ He curses to himself, you feel him squeeze your hand as if to comfort himself. He looks up at you with those glowing, pleading eyes. 

“For amp’s sake, live wire, I didn’t mean to start anything.” 

He sounds breathless, his cheeks tinge red with shame. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t gentlemanly of me to start something with you… you of all people…I’m sorry.” He repeats and this time he attempts to drop your hand but this time you’re clutching it, weaving your fingers together and pressing your palm against his. They’re clammy. You never see Volt like this.

You take a step forward. “What’s wrong, Volt?” You tilt your head in a way where he’s forced to look at you. His face is all angles and shadow now, ashamed of his combative behavior and embarrassed that you seem to shrug it off like a jacket, like it doesn’t even matter. You reach a hand up and cup his cheek, there’s a whirring of electricity that sparks across his skin and to your palm. It’s warm and comforting, like he’s pressing his hand onto yours to hold it there for longer. He looks to you apologetically.

“Forgive me. Eddie needs me— as much as he likes to argue he doesn’t. But I’m not enough to get through to him. I need your help this time but I’m such a stubborn ass that I picked a fight…please, forgive me.” 

He’s pained, clearly hurt by his own words directed towards you.

“It’s been just me and him for so long…We’re both still getting used to letting someone else see just how faulty we are,” He chuckles, trying to make light of the situation. You lean in to place a tender kiss on his lips.

“Say the idea you’ve got already, damn it,” You press your forehead to his, scrunching your nose playfully when he finally meets your eyes. They’re bright and loving, a warmth permeates between you both and he tilts his face, slotting his lips back to yours for another sensual kiss. He breaks it before it can get too intense.

“I wanted you to talk to him…”

You quirk a brow. “That’s it?” Volt’s cheeks flush and you’ve rarely ever seen him embarrassed.

“No…no…I want you to…I need you to— oh, for amp’s sake…” His head falls into his hand and he pushes back the streaks of light that is his hair. His entire face is flushed all the way down to his neck, he swipes at his cheeks with one hand hoping it’ll calm down the color. It doesn’t.

“I have an idea…you get him alone and…” He smirks, looking off to the stage of the club. His jaw is carved well and you watch his adam’s apple bob as he tries to maneuver his words into a coherent sentence. You stay silent and patient.

“I have an idea that I think would help him. You and him…get alone and well…you show him how appreciated he is…catch my drift, live wire?” It’s like the anxiety has completely melted off him in seconds. His voice lowers and becomes sultry once more, purring in your ear and it’s already enough to get you fidgety in your seat. But what he’s proposing…

“What about you?”

“I always get you to myself. I think it’s Eddie’s turn.”

You wipe your hands nervously across your thighs. “Yeah, but…Why not both of you?”

Volt waves a dismissive hand. “As much as I enjoy you both, I wouldn’t mind giving you to Eddie for a night or two. No quarrels here!”

You consider this, mulling over the conversation with Volt as you both continue pouring drinks.

When you find Eddie it’s within the late late hours of the night. Everyone is asleep so you sneak your way to the entrance of the club door, the neon light that usually blinks the establishment's name is off, indicating its closure. Eddie’s inside the bar when you take a quick peek inside after noticing the door was unlocked, you knew he liked to work at night, you just didn’t think it was this late he’d be awake.

He notices you the moment the door opens. He downs the rest of his hard liquor, barely flinching at the taste but his brows still crease and he rinses the glass.

“What are you doing awake, spark?” He sounds exhausted— like usual but there’s a tinge of something else you can’t put your finger on. It almost feels like the first few encounters you both had when first meeting. 

You stroll in, shutting the door behind you with a click and making your way to the bar that he stood behind. You take a seat at the stool you claimed earlier that day and you lean both elbows on the bar.

“Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to see Volt…and you.” You see the end of his eyebrow twitch at the mention and he sighs, pouring two shots in quick succession. He downs his before sliding you the short glass. Confused, you finger the rim for a moment, you don’t look at Eddie.

“What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing.” His tone sounds like a bark and hurts you like a bite. You don’t like this tone with him, this wasn’t the usual playful standoffish demeanor he had worn before. This was genuine irritation.

You down your glass too.

“Volt’s worried about you,” you speak plainly, no beating around the bush, no avoiding the topic of one another this time. Things are different now, right? All three of you are together now and you can actually function like a normal relationship, right? That’s how things should be.

“Yeah, well, I’m fine.” Eddie turns so his back is to you. Despite the tension, you can’t help but admire the beauty that is his large frame. He’s slightly shorter than Volt but his shoulders are wider, more defined from hours of working on keeping this club alive and working. His biceps flex under the tight material of his button up while he hastily cleans the shot glasses; once done, he throws the rag over his shoulder just as Volt does and turns around. He pushes back his hair and leans against the sink, you try to avoid letting your eyes wander because you know he’ll notice. 

You let them anyway and see a tint of blush dust across his cheeks. He pouts.

“Volt has nothing to be worried about.”

You let out a breathy laugh, sarcastic and dry. 

“Right,” you point to his clearly bruised hands. “It doesn’t look like you’ve been easy on yourself, Eddie.” He glances down at his hand and sighs, clicking his tongue in an annoyed way. He pulls the rag from his shoulder and covers both hands, rubbing them vigorously as if that would remove the evidence. You get up then, rounding the bar before he can even plan an escape. Your hands reach on either side of the bar, caging him in. Eddie had begun his getaway but was too late.

“Live wire,” He warns, “Let me leave.”

“Let me see your hands.” He keeps rubbing them.

“No.” 

You grab his wrist and he tries to pull away, his face contorting into one of anger but when you catch his eyes you see something akin to shame. Your fingers barely wrap around his thick wrist but you manage to tug the cloth off his hand.

They’re rough, just as they always are. Burns and bruises decorate his skin and callous over, your fingers delicately brush over them and Eddie is pulling them away and sticking them into his pockets. He says your name in a stern tone.

“Let me leave.” Taken aback for a moment at his tone, you hold his gaze for a few seconds, waiting to see if he’d relax, look to the side to sigh and apologize. But no, his face turns more red, his chin trembles and he holds his ground. Well, two can play at that game.

“Just tell me what’s up and I’ll let you go.”

His eyes plead for you to let him go, his hands escape their pockets and ball into fists at his sides. You can see a spark of blue in his eyes, one of anger you’re sure but that doesn’t scare you. He doesn’t scare you in the slightest anymore. 

“Why the fuck do you push and push, hm? Is it like your job now?” His words are venom and meant to hurt you and they do, but you’re stronger than that.

You point at him. “You have no right to speak to me that way.“ Your tone softens and your arms reach out to invite his vulnerability. “I’m equally as worried, Eddie. Me and Volt. I can’t have you overworking yourself again…please.” 

“I can do what I damn well please, little wire! I don’t need you or Volt worrying about me,” He shoo’s you away with a hand. “Go back to him and fuck, why don’t you? Leave me alone.”

Wow. You flinch at his words, unnerved by his tone and words.

“What? What is this really about, Eddie?”

He puts his hands on his hips, glaring at you with a malice you’ve never seen. “Volt is clearly better than me. That…that job is for him. Not me,” He places a hand over his chest, his jaw clenches. “You deserve Volt, Y/N. I only bring down the mood.”

“That is not true,” You say, your voice instantly getting softer. You should have seen it; the way he pulls away, the way he can’t seem to look as Volt steals a kiss from you, the way he pulls away when you try to touch him. It’s so clear now.

“Eddie,” you step closer, testing the water. Eddie doesn’t falter but instead rubs a hand at the back of his neck and looks down at his feet. He has nowhere to go anyway. “You know that’s not true, right?” Another step, you’re much closer, closer than he’d like you to be and he avoids your gaze still.

His flinches when your hand reaches at his side. It’s almost instant, the way his hand seems to unravel and let you slot your fingers between his. His eyes screw shut, knowing how calloused and rough they are. When you squeeze, he has to pretend like the bruises don’t hurt under the pressure, he doesn’t care really because despite everything he still craves for it.

You’re both silent. He doesn’t dare say a word and you study his face— the way the strands of wires that form his hair frame his face, the red wires complimenting his skin tone. The way his jaw tenses when you step even closer and he feels your body heat. You see his cheeks turn red just slightly.

“Say it,” You gently push. He wants to pull away, hide in his corner until you finally take the hint and leave but he knows you won’t.

“It’s not true…” He says gently, barely cracking his eyes open. His chin is nestled to his chest and he stares down at the shoes of yours. He seems so…small like this— finally admitting defeat.

“That’s right,” You confirm, finally you reach out again and this time he has no choice but to accept it. He won’t tell you that it’s really what he’s been craving for weeks now because, well…

“Will you please tell me what’s wrong? I thought I told you that you wouldn’t be alone anymore.”

He continues to stare at the floor and his eyes flutter shut at the comfort of your warm hand caressing his forearm.

“I…you deserve Volt. He’s clearly better than me.”

Huh?

Your eyes widen at the confession. “Eddie…what? Where did you come up with that?”

Eddie grumbles, running a hand through his wires again and pushing them back, he holds his hand at his neck and finally dares to look down at you. His silver eyes bare a foreboding sadness, you can see the disappointment in his eyes.

“I’m not good with…any of that shit. That’s Volt’s job…he’s the more outgoing one, the handsome one. He’s the better part of me. I’m only good behind the scenes, hidden away and working…”

You instantly shake your head before he even finishes.

“Eddie, no. None of that is right. What makes you think I only want Volt.”

Eddie shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe all the side glances you make to him even when I’m there, the way you two hold hands at every given chance. The way he kisses you and you kiss back—“ He seems to grow more irritated as he continues. “You always seem happier in his company rather than mine. The way you two will continue when I leave—“ His voice shakes for a moment and you feel his hand tremble under your hold. 

“Eddie—“

“It’s just clear that you and Volt found each other and I can go back to working my ass off.”

“Eddie—!”

“I’m clearly not good enough, you know? All I’m good for is keeping the power on and letting you two go at it like rabbits—“

You grab him by the shoulders and shake him like a ragdoll. Finally he shuts up.

“Eddie! Stop! Stop saying those things!” 

He’s warm, his eyes flicker with spikes of electricity and you think he’ll blow a fuse judging by the straining vein that stretches across his forehead. Eddie looks hurt, he looks at you expectantly, like you’ll finally call it quits here and walk out of his life. You’re sick of him at this point, right?

“I don’t think those things. I don’t feel how you’re accusing me of feeling. I don’t only have feelings for Volt.”

“But he’s the only one that deserves you.”

Your heart breaks. Eyes begin to water and you place both hands over his chest, your fingers weave into the buttons of his vest and you feel his quickened heartbeat.

“You deserve me too. Do you really think I was sticking around to see Volt every night?” Eddie looks off to the left, his eyes staring towards the stage. He shuffles on his feet.

“Yeah, kinda…”

You give him a sad smile. “You’re so fucking stupid,” you playfully pat a fist over his chest and Eddie looks down at you offended. “I was worried about you, you fool! Give me a little attitude and I’m determined to make that shell crack,” you snicker and your eyes beam at the slight lift of the corner of Eddie’s lips.

“Why me, though?” He asks genuinely. 

“Why not you?”

He motions to himself. “I’m not exactly the most appealing, little spark.” It’s ridiculous how he can act like he isn’t one of the sexiest objects in the house, like he isn’t the reason why you have two wonderful boyfriends now and the very foundation of the working house, giving each object a purpose in life and giving them said life he powers.

You let your hands wander then, taking in the sight of Eddie’s body tensing at the sensual touch, his eyebrows twitching and cheeks burning. You can feel the electricity coursing through his veins when your bare fingers find the base of his exposed neck and you encircle your hands around them, sliding your body close so your chest-to-chest with him. Fingers card through his hair and his mouth twitches when he speaks, his voice low and curious.

“What are you…doing?” 

“Admiring what’s mine?” You say it so simply, so easily that Eddie can’t seem to comprehend it. He finds a hand lifting and placing it on your waist. There’s a start.

“I’m yours, huh? What, I’m some panel of electricity only made for your pleasure? Is that what you’re saying?” You hook your wrist together, caging him there and his back leans into the wall. You shrug.

“If I said yes?”

“I’d say you’d get electrocuted,” His voice grumbles in his chest and there’s a shiver that runs down your entire body at the sound of it. You wiggle a brow at him.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Eddie.”

He laughs. It's genuine and refreshing to hear after not having it bless your ears the past few weeks. His eyes glisten with a newfound gladness and you take pride in knowing you helped create that in him.

“Is Volt giving you pick up lessons?” He places his other hand on your waist, his palms find comfort on your body and you begin to rock gently side to side.

“You weren’t supposed to know that,” You tease, tapping your lips with your index finger. Eddie chuckles and he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“What else am I not supposed to know? What else is he having you hide from me?” His fingers tease at the hem of your shirt and you feel your own cheeks flush. You play with the ends of one of his strands of hair, poking your finger against the exposed wire.

“Nothing…just that…he wanted me to—“ you cover your mouth and mumble the rest of your confession. Childlike mischief dances across your face and Eddie’s eyes close half lidded—unamused. He pulls your close, turning his head to hold his ear closer to your mouth.

“Didn’t quite catch that.” 

You giggle, Eddie smiles. “He wanted me to try and convince you to—“ another muffle, but Eddie is already grabbing your wrist and forcing it off your mouth. You belly laugh, doubling over when you try to fight back and fail horribly. You’re definitely not as strong as he is and he’s quickly turning you around and pushing you against the wall. He pins your wrist against the wall on either side of your head. Everything stops when you two look at each other, amusement playing across both your faces until you feel his thigh press between your legs.

He’s handsome like this, inches from your face, holding you and staring down at you with those halflidded eyes. His mouth parts slightly when it goes quiet and he lets his gaze flicker down to your lips. He licks his own.

“Convince me to what?” 

You don’t try to play this time. “Convince you to have sex with me.”

Eddie chuckles, “Volt thinks I should get my dick wet to relieve my stress?” 

You can’t really argue with that, “Well, it could help.” 

He stares at you for a couple moments, you feel like you’re being evaluated while his eyes roam across your features, tracing the lines of every piece of your face and settling for a good while on your lips before flitting them back up to your eyes.

“Yeah…I think it could help,” He sounds actually genuine this time, taking the advice into consideration as silly as it seemed. He pulls away to rub at his scruff, the sound of his rough hands on the stiff hair tingles the back of your neck and you have the urge to rub your cheek against it.

“I have a better idea,” He says thoughtfully. “How ‘bout— are you free tomorrow night?” 

You stare at him with an unamused expression. “You really think I have anything else planned besides being at home and rotting away?” Eddie chuckles, breathy and warm and you smell the whiskey on his breath. His hand slides up your waist and cups the side of your ribs, he gently presses the pads of his fingers into the muscles and it takes everything in you to not moan at the touch. He can see the effect it has on you, however and he gives you a knowing smirk.

“How about instead of rotting away in bed, you come meet me tomorrow night after the show. I’ll show you something, yeah?”

His entire demeanor has changed. Confidence permeates the air around him suddenly, his eyes seem to darken with want and it makes your stomach flutter with an excitement you haven’t felt in Lord knows how long. You’re eager, nodding your head and your jaw slack slightly. Eddie—amused, laughs again, his eyes shutting and nose crinkling. His crow feet are something to be admired and the way he cups your chin with his thumb and forefinger to shut your mouth has you blushing red.

“Thanks for the ego boost, live wire.” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek and you finally get that chance to feel his scruff. “I owe you one.”

You finally let him slip past this time. The sound of his  footsteps receding as you try to conceptualize just what he’s planning for tomorrow.

The club is once again closed when you head on over to the Breaker Box. Pushing up your dateviators curiously, you knock once, twice on the metal door. 

It creaks open, revealing Eddie. He looks much less worn out than usual. His hair is still shaggy and eyes 

 littered with lack of sleep, but for the most part there seems to be more color in his face and a gleam in his eyes that you can only say looks a little like mischief. You wave a hand hello and he opens the door further.

His vest is off, only adorning his white button up and it’s certainly not buttoned all the way. His wife ringlets around his neck still hang there and the collar of the shirt lays easily across his collar bones. You see chest hair peeking out of the shirt and you have to stop your eyes from wandering too far.

“Come on in,” He nods his invitation and the heavy door creaks and clangs closed behind you. The lights are dimmed, most off and you can barely see the stage without them on. But there’s a little shadow of the microphone where Johnny usually is, subjecting everyone to his demos. The bar is also barely lit, backlights highlight the glass on shelves, creating rainbows of light to dance across the countertop. Eddie takes you over, one hand on the small of your back to lead you over to your stool.

“Want a drink?” He holds up a shot glass he’s already prepared.

You look at him with an eyebrow raised. “Trying to loosen me up?”

He looks at it, then at you. “Well, I sure as hell need it. You mind if I…?”

“Please, go ahead. Just don’t get drunk on me. Already had to deal with a passed out Volt after I left last night.” You had found Volt, drunk and asleep, cuddling up with Betty on your bed, drooling over her breast. You settle on the stool and watch Eddie down the shot in one go. He places the glass on the counter and pours another.

“Yeah, thanks for handing him to me.” Eddie rolls his eyes at the memory of having to carry him back to the club.

Looking around, you notice something.

“Speaking of which. Where is Volt?”

Eddie doesn’t say a thing, instead he throws back another drink and finally rinses it, cleans it and places it back on the rack. He wipes his hands dry with a washcloth.

“Upstairs. You wanna see him?”

That sounds…ominous, the way he slowly releases the words— almost nervous to ask you. Afraid you’ll say yes. But when you look up at him he’s got this evil smile, a smug look in his eye.

“Eddie…what did you do?” He laughs at that and jabs a thumb to the stairs that lead up to their living quarters. You follow him.

He places his hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly while he places his index finger on his lips, shushing you silently. When the door opens, you hear Volt before you see him.

“This is just cruel now, Eddie, really. What have I done to deserve such treatment?” Eddie pushes you inside with a swift move, tripping on the threshold, you stumble into the bedroom where sitting in a rusty chair is Volt. You catch your balance as you take in the slight.

He’s clothed (surprisingly) but his hands are behind the back of the chair, a thick line of wire is digging into his clothes, cupping his chest. His ankles, also tied, force him to spread his legs and he struggles against his restraints. Hair falls into his face when he tries to jerk out of the confines Eddie clearly placed him in and when he tosses his head back to throw his hair back over his shoulder— he catches you.

“Live wire!” He exclaims, realization hitting him and you all at once. “That’s what this is, Eddie? Showing off?” Volt would almost look angry if it wasn’t clear that he was extremely proud of Eddie at this moment.

“What—?” You can’t finish your question before Eddie is grabbing your shoulder and pushing you to the bed. The strength in his grip alone leaves you gasping and there’s a pang of pleasure that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. An electrifying excitement. 

“Thought it was my turn for a little fun this time,” He says cooly. “Better to give my other half a show while I have my way with our little spark, right?” Eddie flashes Volt a toothy smile before he begins unbuttoning his shirt. You lean back on your elbows on the bed, your eyes watching Eddie before switching over to Volt who’s staring at you with a knowing grin. 

Well done, live wire. You can practically hear it as he mouths the words. You bring your legs up and squeeze your thighs together with a glee and arousal. 

Eddie’s body is toned— where Volt is practically hairless albeit except the white happy trail that begins at his belly button— Eddie is covered. Hair dusts over his chest and travels down his entire torso, his pants hang low enough where you can see the beginning of his lower pelvic region. Soft lines point to where you can see the natural shape of him in his pants. His skin flushes under the dimmed lights when he tosses the shirt to the side and feels both pairs of eyes on him, raking down and up. Volt holds back his tongue for once, letting Eddie have the spotlight for tonight. 

The bed shifts when he places a knee on it, reaching and grabbing your ankle. Eddie tugs with one swift motion and you’re pulled to the edge of the bed, just a few feet from where Volt sits in the chair. You look to Volt for a moment when Eddie’s hands slide over your clothed thigh.

“Don’t look at him,” He says with a bite that almost sounds like anger. The lights soften the hard edges of his face but that gaze is equally as sharp and ten times more intense. Your eyes are glued to him then.

His hand slips under your shirt, fingertips hot against your skin and they press when it reaches the edge of the plump flesh on your chest. He squeezes gently, eyes glued to your face to see what expression you’ll conjure. His thumb swipes over your nipple and it’s hardening under his touch. Your eyes flutter shut, leaning back on your hands and letting your spine arch at the pleasure. Volt was always soft, sometimes too soft and delicate but Eddie’s already proving to be a beautiful contrast to his partner. You let your lips part in a sigh.

He pinches your nipple with his forefinger and thumb, there’s a jolt of electricity and it drives a yelp out of you. The pain quick to hit and just as quick to evaporate. You let out a needy moan then, letting your legs separate and scoot closer to Eddie— hoping he’ll pick up the sign that you want more of whatever that was.

Eddie’s other hand shoves your shirt up, exposing you to the chilly air and Volt’s piercing stare. The arousal increases in the room for every party. You hear the chair creak under Volt’s weight when he shimmies his wrists in his bindings. You look down, daring to open your eyes when you feel warm breath at the center of your chest between your breasts.

“More?“ Eddie lets out with a breath. You nod your head, his fingers pinch harder just a little. “Say it.” 

“M-more…please.” You add the polite request at the end, hoping it would please him. It certainly does because his tongue is pressing to your breast, starting the underside and sliding up to your hardened peak. He circles the tip of his tongue around a few times before letting his lips capture the rest in his mouth. Your hand finds its way to his hair, gripping the strands as he sucks more of your skin into your mouth. His own eyes flutter shut for a moment and you’re able to admire the way his eyelashes lay against his warm skin. He’s pretty like this— he always is but seeing the content on his face has the tips of your ears reddened and warm. 

He pulls away, letting a bridge of spit connect from your nipple to his bottom lip that’s become plump and red. He swipes his thumb over it, breaking the bridge and beginning a slow, wet circle around your other breast. Eddie looks up at you through his lashes and he leans in close, pressing his face into your neck. You gasp, mouth agape and already getting dry.

“Mmmmh,” He mumbles, “So soft,” his lips graze your neck, tongue sliding out to press against your quickened pulse. His teeth sink in slowly, not enough to break skin but enough to leave a slight indent. He suckles the sensitive skin there, it pinches and hurts but it sits so close to pleasure that you can’t differentiate between the two. You let out another moan, hips moving on their own accord.

Volt groans himself, eyebrows pinched together and pulling at the wires as he watches his lovelies neglect his pleasure. He’s hard— rock hard in his pants but there’s no release for him. 

“Eddie…” You breath, hand grasping the back of his neck. He grumbles into your neck before releasing you and soothing over his third hickey with his tongue. He pulls away, hair a mess, eyes droopy with want, hands trembling with excitement as he looks over your aroused state while he figures out what to do next. So much he wants to do…

He pushes your shirt completely off, it’s awkward and it tangles with your limbs but you managed to pull it off, now the two of you half exposed. Volt’s eyes seem to bulge out of his skull and he babbles something about how beautiful you two look. Eddie gives him a sideways glance that shuts him up. 

You lift your hips when Eddie begins to hook his fingers into your pants, peeling them off and letting his calloused fingertips slide across silky skin. He slides them to your inner thighs once your pants lay in a heap on the floor and he’s pushing your knees apart until they nestle on the blankets beneath you. He lets out a longing sigh after holding his breath, revealing the goldmine of your wet heat. Eddie looks in wonder, mouth watering at the sight and he can’t seem to figure out what to do first for a couple seconds. A curious thumb buries into the hair on your pubic bone and he pulls the skin upward, unveiling your plump clit. It twitches under his cooling breath.

He lowers his head.

Eddie lets his mouth cup over your mound, his tongue peeking out to swipe, flat and wide to cover the entire surface. He moans with you in his mouth, vibrating the area and your legs fight against the strong hold he keeps on your thighs to keep them separated. Your hips buck at the sensation, unable to control the roll of mind numbing pleasure that feels like warm water enveloping you from toes to shoulders. 

Eddie sighs, breaking the suction on your clit to swipe his tongue up and down with a precision and movement only he is capable of. He barely peeks over to Volt before he’s replacing his tongue with his two forefingers, watching your hole clench and unclench with each rub over your bundle of nerves.

“They taste so good, Volt. They’re doing so well for me, too, don’t you think?” 

Volt swallows over a dizzying lump in his throat, attempting to clear it before speaking but he sounds just as breathless as you. “Y-yes, they are…So good for you…” 

Eddie turns to you. “Good little spark,” His fingers play and circle at your entrance, pulling your lips apart to watch the slick ooze from you. His middle fingers dips inside slowly, it’s not nearly big enough to satisfy you— leaving you whining and wanting to beg for more. Before you can muster the courage to, Eddie is already pulling away and reaching over to press his fingers into your mouth. You let your mouth fall slack and take his finger in, a hand holds his wrist gently as you suckle and taste the saltiness of your own desire for him. “Get it nice and wet, spark…that’s it.” There’s a warmth to his voice that sends shivers down your entire body and you eagerly suck on his finger, letting saliva escape the corner of your mouth and slide down the side of his finger.

“Does Volt ever finger you?” He asks when he pulls away again and settles his hand between your legs once more. You shake your head and he pouts. “That’s a shame. He’s real good at it. Leaving our live wire out on some fun? eh?” He looks over his shoulder. “Not nice, Volt. Cruel, even.”

Volt groans, his pants tight around his crotch. You wonder if his hardon has the strength to burst from the seams. 

“That’s alright,” He hums, positioning his fingers at your entrance again. This time he holds his middle two, sinking them into his first knuckle. “I’ll take care of you.” 

With the width of his two fingers— your body reacts; leg spread wide, you toss your head back into the sheets, hands grip said sheets and you bite your lip in an attempt to muffle your moan. It doesn't work. Eddie’s fingers seek deeper inside you, feeling the plush, wet walls within you. The action alone has him feeling his cock dig into the bed below him. His hips adjust, feeling that satisfying friction but he stops himself— not yet. He’ll get his turn soon.

His fingers curl, hooking themselves deep inside you and he begins thrusting. Wet, filthy sound mix together with your sounds of pleading and pleasure when Eddie finds your g-spot and abuses it. 

“Eddie!” You moan, teeth clenching and legs fighting against his strong hold. “Fuck…fuck, fuck! Eddie!”

“That’s it,” His voice feels like warm honey against your eyes. “You want it harder, don’t you, my little wire?” Fingers move expertly, sliding in and out and pressing into that plush, sensitive spot so roughly it starts to feel numb. A knot forms in your lower abdomen, tightening and tightening—

“Eddie! Please, I’m almost there—“ He suddenly stops.

You whine, practically crying when his wet fingers leave you empty and clenching around nothing. By the time you open your eyes, he’s sitting up and sucking on his fingers, eyes trained over to Volt who really does look like he’s gonna burst.

His hair sparks blue, eyes flicker with a sick malice that you know isn’t true anger. You watch them, waiting for one of them to say something. It’s like they have a silent conversation, speaking telepathically. Eddie releases his finger with an audible pop and turns his attention back to you.

“Lay back down and spread your legs.” You don’t dare question him. 

You and Volt both watch with bated breath as Eddie unzips his pants, watching his hardon strain against the fabric before pushing them down along with his underwear. He springs out of the confines and you sit up to get a good look.

He climbs atop the bed, grabbing one ankle of yours with his hand and holding your leg open while the other grabs at his base. You hear a needy noise come from Volt when Eddie angles his dick to your heat. It’s warm and he presses his tip to your clit, sliding up and down to coat himself in your slick. His skin is soft and warm against you and Eddie lets out a moan that erupts from deep within his chest. A satisfying sound, something akin to a growl and he lets his eyes shut as the pleasure envelopes you both. He moves slowly, letting your pussy memorize the shape of him against your lips.

“Could cum just from this, live wire…” His tip catches at your hole and you gasp and relax— opening him for him but he slides back up to your clit and circles it with his tip. “Nice and wet, hm?” 

He pulls back a little to align himself to your entrance. You suck in a breath, holding it until his tip splits you open. There’s the slight burn the further he pushes in, waiting for you to flutter around him before Eddie continues to shimmy his way inside you. He’s much more girthier than Volt— thicker and hotter— you wonder in the moment if there’s any chance you’d ever be able to fit them both inside you one day.

Eddie releases his hand from his cock and grabs the back of your knee, lifting your leg to push it against your torso. He lets his head fall back when he bottoms out inside you and lets out a satisfying sigh. 

The room turns hot then. Everyone breathing deeply, Volt giving up on escaping and this time focusing on thrusting his own hips into nothing— practically crying over the lack of friction he receives. He watches you two with an icey, jealous, aroused stare that could melt metal.

There’s a searing heat between you and Eddie and it increases when he pulls his hips back and forward slowly, creating a slow and even rhythm. His thumb runs over the inside of your ankle, calloused finger soothing your mewling as you feel his cock bruise the inner working of your walls. Your toes curl when he pushes further in, his coarse hair mixing with yours, pelvis-to-pelvis in the most intimate way. 

“Fuck,” He breathes hard, breath fanning your face. He leans down, curling forwards and his hair falls over his forehead in a messy fashion. He thrusts harder, eyes peering down where you two are connected. Creamy white pools out of you and drips down onto the sheets, he fucks you harder, knowing you can take more. Your body rocks with each push inside you, reaching up to grab the sheets to keep you steady. You moan Eddie’s name, looking over to Volt whose mouth has fallen open, cheeks tinged blue. 

“So good, Eddie…Feels so good…” You say, eyes locking with Volt’s. There’s a smirk on your face and his eyes narrow, he still attempts to thrust but to no avail— there is no pleasure like skin-to-skin for him tonight.

Your other hand finds itself pressing into Eddie’s lower abdomen, feeling the ripple of muscle under his skin with each thrust. Your fingernails glide down a prominent vein on his pubic bone, down and down until your finger feels the wetness that’s coated on the small sliver of his exposed cock nestled in you. A choke catches in his throat and your hand goes to your very clit, circling it feverishly.

His speed picks up, thrusting getting messier, the sound of skin on skin growing louder, the bed creaking under the weight and his grip is so hard on your skin that you know you’ll have crescent shaped bruises in the morning. Eddie curses under his breath again, the pleasure becoming a hot white that almost blinds him. He’s just about ready to blow a fuse before he strains out.

“Gonna let me cum in you, right? Make you mine?” He says through clenched teeth. “Gonna fill you up and make sure we get every last drop deep inside you…” He leans down now, letting go of your ankle to grab the back of your knee, pushing both legs up and against your torso. The new angle is deeper, his girth splitting you open and tip bruising your cervix. There’s the burn and sharp pain of his abusing thrusts and he practically growls in your ear.

“Fuck, live wire, squeeze around me again and I’ll—“ His sentence is cut off when you tighten around him, lust filled eyes locking with his as you feel that wet warmth burry itself deep inside you.

Eddie’s lips part, glossy and red as he releases himself inside you, pumping his hips a few more times as ropes coat your walls. It’s lewd, the way you feel it slip out of you while he lazily moves his pelvis against yours. Slowing his motions, he lets go of your legs, letting the heels of your feet dig into the end of the bed. Sweat drips from his forehead and the tip of his nose, pushing his hair back, he sits back, still inside you.

Eddie quickly leans down to give you a long, strong kiss on your lips. When you separate and you press noses together, you look at each other deeply. Eddie’s eyes flash a pink color, eyelids droopy and the circles under his eyes seem to grow more prominent as the exhaustion of what he’s done takes over.

He slowly, eyes trailing over your body, pulls out of you. His softening dick drops cum from the tip and like a dam breaking, cum oozes out of you and onto the sheets. You release a sigh and let your achy limbs relax, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back.

You moan, pushing more cum out of you when you speak, “God, Eddie…that was…”

He sits at the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows on one knee and looks over to you, nodding. “Well needed fix, yeah…”

“I was gonna say amazing.”

He smiles and blushes. “That too…” He fully turns to you, remorse written across his face. “I’m sorry for the way I acted.”

You shake your head, sitting up and reach over to grab his hand. “Don’t be sorry for having insecurities. We all have them.”

He shrugs. “I’ll be better.” He looks away, blushing and then turns back to you quickly. He puts his other hand over yours. “I love you…I realized I hadn’t said it since…everything that went down. I love you.”

You squeeze back. “I love you too.”

There’s a groan coming from the edge of the bed. 

Oh right.

Volt sits, still tied up, head hanging forward, hair cascading down to cover his face. You and Eddie find your eyes trailing down his body to—

Oh!

A wet spot sits directly on the hard lump that is Volt’s erection. Eddie lets out a chuckle.

“No way you came untouched, in your pants.”

Volt groans, hair sparking aggressively. “Just untie me and let me change…”

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a thread of posts by hgrungsandbullywugs which say "in one of my D&D campaigns, every one of our players is queer in some way except for one dude, who is the most Straight Cis dude you've ever seen. kind of man you'd buy a toolbox for christmas, told us he had "huge news". I thought it was that he was getting engaged but it turns out he just got a truck. (tbf it is a very cool truck) HOWEVER 🧵]

["One of my favorite stories he tells whenever we mention a nonbinary character (or just my existence as an enby) was that one of his first characters was a dwarf he named Alex, but at the beginning couldn't decide if they were male or female, and just decided to roll with it. would respond to any pronouns, and would dodge the question when someone asked if they were a dude or not. "what's in your pants?” "oh thats just my axe”

"and so anyways, that character is the reason that he pretty much understand the whole Nonbinary thing now, and also the reason that in our homebrew canon Dwarves pretty much don't have gender outside of “every one of us is covered in hair and Yearns for the Mines,"."]

[chococolte]

hello! this is my first time requesting something so sorry if i make any mistakes

can you write for reader teasing them? like not in a making fun of them in a way but yk randomly leaving kisses on their neck, brushing your hand against theirs, putting your hand on their thigh, lifting up their chin and staring at them while smirking and stuff? the characters i would like to request are (yandere) zhongli diluc kaeya and alhaitham but feel free to add or change the characters im here for anything you write for 😭

in all honesty im in LOVE with your work like literally you’re def my favorite genshin writer the way you use your words is just 🤌🤌 cant get enough of your writing, hope you never stop writing here 😭

word count. 3.4k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. i'm so sorry i took forever to write this but hii thank u!!!!! this is my first non-sagau work in a bit and these r a bit shorter so i hope its okayii !! also i added neuvillette rubs my big greedy bellay

zhongli

Zhongli knows you have to be doing it on purpose.

It's torture. Sweet, blissful torture, but torture nonetheless.

Every time you touch him, it feels like heaven, and the fact you pull away so quickly feels like you're leaving a searing brand on his skin. He clings onto the burn, buzzing under his mask of perfect composure; desperate to keep the sting, and desperate more to keep you near him. 

You kiss his neck without a word. You brush your hand against his as if it’s nothing. Your lips whisper against his skin with the softest touch, your warm breath a murmur, and Zhongli has to wonder why you insist on torturing him like this. Each time, you pull away fast enough he barely has a chance to register it. Those few seconds, he sits still, reeling— biting his tongue until it settles in, and once it does, he resists the urge to pull you back, his fingers twitching. 

Zhongli wants to. He wants to so badly it hurts to keep himself still. He wants you closer. He wants you to touch him, and he wants to touch you, and he doesn't want anyone else to have you or feel even a semblance of the way he does. 

His knee bounces without him realizing it.

Zhongli's expression stays the same, every muscle a disciplined quiet. His eyes have a certain quirk to them, crinkled and soft, but it’s the twitch of his knees and the glaze in his eyes that speak of the barking of emotions in his chest, and somehow, even with millennia of control, he’s not aware of how pathetically it gives him away. 

All he knows is that he wants to keep looking at you. He wants to ask you to do it again, even if it’s slow and teasing and agonizing and far from what he really wants from you. He wants to ask you to never do it to anyone else, even if he knows it’s selfish, and then he wants to press soft kisses to your skin until his mind stops buzzing and his lips are bruised— until he’s sure you’ll never make the mistake of entertaining someone else.

Zhongli clenches his fists until his nails pinch into his skin each time he thinks of that sickly possibility. Then he relaxes once he remembers you would never do such a thing to him. 

Even if it hurts to keep himself still, he wants more. More than you could possibly give him, but he wants anyway. He wants all of you.

Sometimes, he likes to wait for it. Zhongli watches you, a strange eagerness choking him as he waits for you to finally look his way. His chest feels full of something. He doesn’t know what it is— an indescribable emotion that turns him into a mortal’s pawn. He just wants you to glance over and notice he exists, and then he wants you to play with his heart some more, just to hear you laugh when you pull the reaction you want from him.

Whatever you do to him, he likes it. He likes that you do it to him and not anyone else. He likes that this part of you, teasing and cruel, belongs to him. 

The thought of you acting this way with anyone else makes him ill, which isn’t a word he uses lightly.

Zhongli knew himself before he met you. You make a stranger out of him, but even with the light of you blinding his senses, Zhongli feels the same sickly jealousy. He wants all of you. He doesn’t want anyone to experience even a fraction of the things you make him feel. 

If that makes him selfish, then so be it. If it makes him terrible, then he is. 

You set your hand on his thigh and give it a light squeeze. Then you're pulling away, and he misses the warmth of your palm instantly. He almost wants to laugh. You tease him because you have no idea of what he would do to keep you near him. 

Zhongli grabs your wrist, pinning your hand back against his thigh.

"Stay," he rumbles lowly, soft enough for only you to hear. He squeezes your hand and tries to engrave the feeling into his mind.

There's more he wants to say. He wants to tell you to touch him more. He wants to tell you about every dark, disgusting part of himself and still have the assurance of your presence— but he knows that if he spoke the full depth of what he feels for you, you'd pull your hand back in an instant. So, instead, he only asks for you to stay.

Your finger brushes against his inner thigh, and he purrs.

diluc

Diluc has to stop himself from begging you to keep touching him each time you do.

It's pathetic, and not exactly in a sad, pitiful sort of way, so he bites his tongue until you pull away and leave him aching for more.

It does nothing to kill the urge.

The touches are nothing. They're little things, the barest of skin-to-skin contact— you hold his hand for a few seconds longer than necessary, brush your fingers against his, touch him when you don't need too— sometimes, you hold his thigh underneath the table where no one else can see, and he just has to sit, unable to make a noise, unless he wants to completely ruin your perception of him.

He already has, if the way you smirk when he audibly shudders is any indication.

Diluc never thought of himself as someone so weak. You don't even have to touch him for the bundle of nerves in his stomach to flutter; you could smile, and it would do the same to him as you kissing his neck.

If it were anyone else, his reactions wouldn't be nearly so prevalent. No, he couldn’t stomach it if it were anyone else.

But it's you, he thinks, so it's inherently different. It's you, so how he'd react with anyone else is meaningless, because he would never allow anyone else to get as close to him.

It still doesn't keep the indignation from bubbling up when he, once again, proves how incapable he is at properly reacting to anything regarding you. It wilts just as quickly as it arises, though; he imperceptibly leans into your touch, unable to truly complain and lacking the desire to.

It's the fact that you do it so casually. You know exactly what to do to get the reaction you want out of him, and he preens under the attention, then gets upset that he does at the same time that he's eagerly leaning into your touch, before you torture him by pulling back.

Each time just makes the ache worse. Strangely, Diluc can't say that he hates it.

He wonders, like he always does in the silence, if you do this to anyone else.

Diluc sits with the thought for a moment before realizing very, very quickly that he hates it. It makes him sick, imagining you so much as brushing hands with someone else. Innocent touches to anyone reasonable, but it makes him want to pinch and tug at his skin until it bleeds.

He wishes he could tell you. He wishes he could ask you, at least, if he’s special, or if this is just some sort of game to you. Maybe you only like him because of how powerful it makes you feel. Maybe you just like the gifts. Maybe you just like the way he looks at you, because Diluc is self-aware enough to know he can’t hide it properly. 

Diluc would kneel and kiss your feet if it gave him any sort of assurance of being at least somewhat important to you. He would do more if it meant he knew whether or not this was real to you. 

His dignity is meaningless in front of you. He can’t say it bothers him. 

You lift his chin with your finger, forcing him to meet your gaze.

His lashes tremble. His skin feels like it's on fire. He can feel his blood pumping through his body and his heart in his ears, rushing like nothing he's felt before.

He loves you. He loves you in a way he knows is far from innocent or pure. He loves you enough to want to keep you forever.

It's terrible, what you do to him. Worse still is what he knows he'd do if you did it to anyone else.

kaeya

You have no idea what you do to him, do you?

Kaeya thinks that, if you did, you wouldn't be nearly as willing to play with him as you are now.

You kiss his skin and then pull away before he has the time to react. You do it so casually he has to wonder if you even know what you’re doing at all. He can’t decide whether he loves or hates it.

In a way, it sets his skin aflame. It makes him think that you might actually care for him; in a way that’s uniquely his, one he doesn’t have to share with anybody else. But it also makes him wonder if maybe you just like toying with him; maybe you just like seeing him twitch as he suppresses every urge to do it right back to you. 

Maybe you like knowing how much power you have over him, if you realize it at all. 

Kaeya doesn’t know what he thinks. All he knows is that it feels nice when you touch him, even if the contact only lasts for a moment. He knows he hates it when you pull away. All he knows is that he wouldn’t mind if you touched him more, and if you wanted him to, he would never let himself be touched by anyone else again. He knows he hates how weak you make him and how, if only you would ask, he’d be willing to do anything. If it meant he could have you, selfishly and entirely, then Kaeya would curse his bloodline and shirk his duty. 

If it meant you would love him even a modicum of the way he loves you, he would depart with all of the things that make him up. 

You brush your skin against his, and for a moment, Kaeya thinks he sees stars. It’s a terrible thing. A weak thing. Worse still is the smile on your lips. It makes his heart clench painfully in his chest.

When you touch his thigh, he wonders if this is how he finally dies. He hates how he can still feel your touch even after you pull away, the heat of your palm still warming his skin. 

Then, because his mind can’t let him have just one thing, he imagines you with someone else. It’s a human thought. Even if he had you all to himself, he would still be plagued with the same visions. Kaeya sees you touching another with the same tenderness, kissing their throat, intertwining your fingers and holding their warmth, and then he sees you smiling— except you look happier, and he knows it’s the sort of happiness he could never bring you— and then all he knows is agony, because he knows he could never let you have such a thing unless it was with him. 

He knows he’s greedy. He knows he’s selfish. He knows that you deserve someone less sick than him, but he can’t bear the thought of living in a world where you’re anywhere but by his side. 

“Are you like this for anyone else?” he asks once you’ve laid a soft kiss against his neck, unable to stop himself. There’s a gross vulnerability in his tone that he wishes he could tear out. 

“You know it’s just you,” you say. 

Kaeya knows that. He just wants to hear you say it. 

“Say it again,” he says, and despite himself, looks at you like you’re something eternally precious to him. You are. He can’t help but be afraid of you knowing that.

“I’m only like this with you.” Your fingers are in his hair now, brushing along the nape on his neck.

“Good,” Kaeya says, and this time, he decides to believe you.

al-haitham

Al-Haitham freezes each time you touch him. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like it. Rather, it’s the amount of restraint he has to use to keep himself still. 

You kiss his neck like it's nothing, pulling away fast enough that he has to wonder if you even know what you're doing. The glint in your eye says you do. The fact that you don't realize what exactly it does to him tells him otherwise.

If you did, then you wouldn't do it as much, especially where other people can see. The surge of emotions that sparks in his chest can't be compared or defined by any human word.

It makes him feel dizzy. It makes him feel wide awake. It makes every thought slow like they're deep in a mire at the same time it causes another hundred to take their place. It makes him, strangely, want to laugh, adrenaline rushing off the high of your attention. It makes him want to whisper every single one of his thoughts and sickly desires into your ear until you never look at anyone else again.

Al-Haitham's body pulses and his veins burn. The fact that each touch could so easily be considered innocuous, if only he didn't already know that their purpose was to make him squirm, just makes his heart all the louder in his ears.

His expression stays neutral each time. The only thing that speaks to his utter depravity is the way his hands slightly shake, itching to touch you. He's unsure if you notice.

If you knew the sorts of things he thought about involving you, you wouldn't want to kiss him at all.

Good, then, that he has no intention of ever telling you; not when he can't be assured you'd stay by him. So, instead, Al-Haitham sits still and accepts it, withholding himself from acting out on his baser urges.

It's particularly difficult when you laugh afterward, maybe enjoying the way he doesn't do anything to stop you. His silence says more than his voice ever could. He doesn't push your hand away when you press it against his thigh. He doesn't tell you to stop when you kiss his neck, even when you do so in the Akademiya's library, rather enjoying the attention it brings.

It feels like you're claiming him. The way no one can believe he lets you do it, in a way, feels like he's claiming you. After all, how could people see such a sight and still think they have any right to you?

Rarely does Al-Haitham ever feel insecure. He feels no sense of shame when you kiss his neck in public, or when you less than subtly grab his thigh under the table. You pull away the next second, and he has to sit with the brand of your lips and your touch, trying to hold onto the sensation for a little while longer while his face stays impossibly still.

But sometimes, he imagines you doing the same thing to someone else. It's a reminder that people other than you exist, and he finds he doesn't quite like it. No, he hates it. The mere thought disgusts him. What need do you have for anyone else when he's right here?

"You only do this with me, correct?" he asks, and it's the first time he’s even referenced your actions at all in conversation. There's a strange note to his tone, and even Al-Haitham can't quite place it.

"Only you," you reply easily, mirth coating your voice. You press another kiss to his neck to accentuate your point.

"Good," he says, his eyelashes fluttering.

neuvillette

The first time you touch his thigh, Neuvillette is struck dumb.

He wasn't expecting it. Without thinking, his leg bounces, and you laugh. Neuvillette’s breath catches in his throat, and he clenches his jaw to stop himself from making a greatly inappropriate sound. 

You tear your hand away the next instant. He misses your warmth immediately and almost asks for you to touch him again— before he remembers that asking such a thing is improper— so instead, he nods politely with a strange feeling in his chest.

Even that, he knows, is not the proper response, but you daze him; everything slows for the brief moment you decide to bless him with your touch. His idea of proper would have been grabbing your hand and keeping it there, just to feel you for a little while longer.

Neuvillette has never experienced anything similar before. He struggles to understand his emotions and the way his body responds. He doesn't quite understand why his heart picks up when you brush your hand against his, or why he has to remind himself that he can't just grab you and intertwine your fingers without asking, nor does he understand why he wants to do so in the first place. All he knows is that being in your presence reduces each of his thoughts to their barest components— images of you, you, and you.

He finds that he doesn't hate it. Even when you do it in front of other people, which just makes the journalists in Fontaine buzz with noise and curiosity. That, he notices rather quickly, pleases him and soothes some dark part of his subconscious that cries like a selfish serpent each time you look at anyone else.

Let them see and let them whisper it amongst themselves if in the end it proves that he's yours, and let them write their tabloids if it means everyone knows not to try and take you away from him.

That, he finds, is his greatest fear.

Kissing his neck provokes similar reactions. His eyelids flutter shut, and his fingers tremble with the numerous wants running through him, each equally adept at destroying him and equally indecipherable. It's a display the complete opposite of what he should project as the Iudex, yet he can't find it in himself to care, not properly.

It's you. It's you. It's you, and your every touch feels like rebirth, and he terribly, selfishly, doesn't want anyone else but him to experience it. 

Neuvillette knows you do it to provoke a reaction out of him. It’s on purpose. You like seeing the falter in his step, hearing his breath catch in his throat, and you like knowing you’re the cause. Part of him wants to deny you the satisfaction, if only to see you press harder, touch him more, if it means watching his mask fall. The rest of him just wants to give it to you. 

You make him weak. You make him selfish. You make him feel like a mortal man. 

“Am I special to you?” he finds himself asking. The words don’t feel like his, but they’re wrenched from his throat all the same; coated in that terrible, terrible vulnerability he wishes he knew nothing of. 

Strangest of all was that you weren’t touching him. There was no teasing laughter, no gentle brush of your fingers. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, and he asks because he can’t stand not knowing. 

He can’t stand the thought of just being a thing to you. 

“Of course you are,” you reply easily. You close the gap between you to brush some of his hair out of his face, and the touch feels electric. 

Of course he is. 

“You are special to me as well,” he says, trying to keep his thoughts off his face.

What would he have done if you’d said no? 

Neuvillette isn’t sure. All he knows is that he detests the very thought. He detests the thought of not being important to you. He detests the thought of your relationship merely being something you do to entertain yourself, even though he would gladly be entertainment if it was all he could be to you. He detests the thought of someone else being in his place, feeling your touch— he’s disgusted by the notion that all of what you give him could so easily be given to someone else.

What would he have done if you’d said no? 

Neuvillette realizes that what he would’ve done is not anything you would like.