#he had to be bubbly and make jokes and couldn’t be serious.

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Villains x Reader

You're the new hot and smart underling

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, Two-Face, The Riddler & The Penguin

The Joker

- From the moment you joined the Joker’s ranks, his interest was piqued. Your sharp mind and striking presence stood out amongst the usual riff-raff. “A diamond in the rough!” he declared with a manic grin. Though he initially treated you like any other henchperson, his curious glances and the way he leaned in during conversations hinted at deeper intrigue.

- The Joker quickly made it a point to test your intellect. He threw out riddles mid-conversation, asked for your input on his chaotic plans, and watched with delight as you matched his wit. When you pointed out a flaw in one of his schemes—something no one else dared to do—he clapped his hands and cackled. “I like you,” he said, the words dangerously lighthearted.

- He couldn’t resist pulling you into the spotlight, often assigning you the most high-profile tasks. “Let’s see what you’re really made of!” he’d say with a grin that sent chills down your spine. Success was met with a rare approval, while failure earned a manic lecture or a laugh that felt more threatening than amused.

- Over time, his obsession with you became clear. He’d show up unannounced while you worked, circling you like a predator and commenting on how “refreshingly unpredictable” you were. His attention was both a blessing and a curse, offering protection but also putting you in constant danger of his volatile whims.

- The other henchpeople noticed the Joker’s fixation on you, leading to whispers and jealousy. Some even tried to undermine you, but the Joker put an immediate stop to it. “Nobody touches my little genius,” he’d hiss, his voice icy before switching back to his signature grin.

- Despite his madness, there were moments where his attention bordered on genuine. He’d hand you a gift—a macabre joke of a trinket—and watch your reaction with keen interest. Yet, his affection always felt like a game, a dangerous dance where losing meant the stakes could turn deadly.

Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn

- Harley was instantly drawn to you when you joined the gang. “Ooh, fresh meat!” she teased, her Brooklyn accent thick with mischief. It didn’t take long for her to notice your sharp mind and how you carried yourself with confidence. “Smart and hot? You’re a triple threat, sugar!” she exclaimed, clearly intrigued.

- Harley loved testing your limits, throwing you into chaotic situations to see how you handled them. Whether it was a high-speed getaway or negotiating with rival criminals, she’d watch you with sparkling eyes, clapping her hands in glee when you exceeded expectations.

- Her flirtation was constant and shameless. She’d saunter up to you during planning sessions, twirling a strand of her blonde-and-pink hair. “Y’know, if I wasn’t with Mistah J, I’d have to snatch you up,” she’d say with a wink, though you couldn’t always tell how serious she was.

- As your competence became undeniable, Harley began to rely on you more and more. She’d drag you into her schemes, insisting, “You’re my good luck charm!” She’d giggle when things went awry but always trusted you to pull them back together.

- Harley wasn’t above showing off for you, either. During fights or heists, she’d go out of her way to make dramatic, acrobatic moves, casting a playful glance your way afterward. “Betcha didn’t know I could do that, huh?” she’d say, grinning ear to ear.

- Beneath her bubbly exterior, Harley grew genuinely attached to you. She’d seek you out during quiet moments, talking about everything from the stars to her favorite cartoons. “You’re somethin’ special, y’know?” she’d say softly, her tone unusually serious before covering it with a laugh.

Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy

- Ivy noticed you the moment you walked in. She had an uncanny way of sensing power, and there was something about your intelligence and charisma that intrigued her. “You’re not like the rest of them,” she said with a sly smile, her green eyes piercing.

- She tested you in subtle ways, asking for your opinion on her environmental crusades or challenging you with complex tasks. When you provided thoughtful, insightful answers, she found herself impressed. “Hmm, perhaps you’re worth keeping around,” she mused, though the glimmer of approval in her gaze said more.

- Ivy quickly took you under her wing, ensuring you worked closely with her. She’d often call you to her greenhouse, watching as you moved carefully among her plants. “You have respect for life,” she’d note, almost to herself. Her approval felt rare and precious, like sunlight through the trees.

- Her fondness for you grew in small but significant ways. She’d casually offer you gifts—rare flowers or herbs—claiming they were “just leftovers.” When you thanked her, she’d wave it off, but the faint smile on her lips betrayed her pleasure.

- Ivy’s protective instincts soon kicked in. If anyone in the organization dared to disrespect you, they’d find themselves tangled in vines before they could blink. “No one touches what’s mine,” she’d declare, her voice cold and commanding, though she never elaborated on the claim.

- Despite her aloof demeanor, Ivy valued your presence deeply. In quiet moments, she’d open up about her dreams of a better world, her voice soft and wistful. “You understand,” she’d say, almost vulnerable. “You see the beauty in the chaos, just like me.”

Bane

- Bane was initially skeptical of you. Beauty and intelligence were rare qualities among his recruits, and he wondered if you were too good to be true. “Prove your worth,” he demanded, his imposing figure casting a shadow over you. His voice was calm but carried the weight of a challenge.

- You quickly earned his respect through your sharp strategies and unflinching determination. Bane valued strength, both physical and mental, and your ability to stay calm under pressure impressed him. “You are more capable than most,” he admitted, a rare compliment from the man who broke the Bat.

- Bane began involving you in higher-level plans, seeking your input and trusting your judgment. “You think like a tactician,” he observed, his dark eyes studying you intently. His approval felt earned, a testament to your hard work and resilience.

- Despite his stoic demeanor, Bane showed his care in subtle ways. He ensured you were well-protected during missions, assigning his most loyal soldiers to watch your back. “Your mind is a valuable asset,” he’d say, though his actions hinted at something more personal.

- Over time, Bane’s respect for you deepened into admiration. He found himself drawn to your unwavering determination and the way you carried yourself with quiet confidence. “You remind me of someone who fights for what they believe in,” he said once, his tone almost reverent.

- Bane’s connection to you became undeniable when he began sharing fragments of his past. “Strength is forged in pain,” he told you one night, his voice low and reflective. “You understand that. It’s why you belong here—with me.” His words carried a rare vulnerability, a glimpse of the man beneath the mask.

Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow

- Jonathan’s first impression of you was clinical curiosity. Among the sea of his mindless minions, your sharp intelligence and composed demeanor were a breath of fresh air. He observed you silently for days, cataloging your behavior like a subject in his experiments. “Fascinating,” he murmured to himself when you solved a problem no one else could.

- He wasted no time putting your mind to the test, assigning you tasks meant to break weaker recruits. When you succeeded with ease, he became both intrigued and slightly unnerved. “You’re more resilient than I expected,” he remarked, his tone bordering on admiration, though his calculating eyes betrayed his constant evaluation.

- As you gained his respect, Jonathan began sharing his philosophical musings with you. “Fear,” he’d say, leaning closer, “is the only true motivator.” He watched your reactions intently, searching for a flicker of agreement or defiance. Your willingness to engage in these debates only solidified his growing fascination with you.

- Over time, he involved you in his experiments, valuing your input on the effects of his fear toxin. He’d watch you work with a rare, quiet intensity, occasionally breaking the silence to ask your opinion. “Tell me,” he said once, “what do you fear most?” The question lingered in the air, more personal than professional.

- Jonathan’s protectiveness over you grew subtly. If anyone questioned your methods or competence, he’d silence them with a single glare. “This one,” he’d say, his voice cold, “is not to be underestimated.” His approval came sparingly, but when given, it felt like a hard-earned triumph.

- Despite his detached nature, Jonathan found himself drawn to your presence in a way that surprised even him. During his quieter moments, he’d share fragments of his past, his voice tinged with bitterness and vulnerability. “Perhaps,” he said one night, almost to himself, “fear isn’t the only thing that defines us.”

Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face

- Harvey noticed you the moment you joined his organization. Half of him admired your intelligence and poise, while the other half—gruffer, more distrusting—demanded you prove your loyalty. “Let’s see how you handle yourself,” he said, flipping his coin. Heads, you were given a chance; tails, you were thrown into the fire.

- Your quick thinking and unshakable composure soon won over both sides of Harvey. He appreciated your ability to adapt to his volatile moods, navigating his dual nature with surprising ease. “You’re good,” he admitted one day, his scarred side smirking while the unscarred side gave a small nod of approval.

- Harvey began relying on you for more than just grunt work, bringing you into his inner circle. He’d consult you during planning sessions, flipping his coin before agreeing with your suggestions. “You’re smart,” he said, his voice laced with reluctant admiration. “Almost too smart for your own good.”

- Despite his hardened exterior, Harvey showed glimpses of softness around you. On rare occasions, he’d let his guard down, speaking about the struggles of balancing his two selves. “You think it’s easy?” he asked one night, his voice raw. “Living with two voices in your head?” He didn’t expect an answer but seemed comforted by your understanding.

- His dual nature extended to how he treated you. On good days, he’d praise your work and share a drink with you, his charm shining through. On bad days, he’d lash out, only to apologize later. “You shouldn’t stick around someone like me,” he muttered once, his good side conflicted while his bad side growled, “But you will.”

- Over time, Harvey’s admiration for you turned into something deeper. He became fiercely protective, warning anyone who dared to question your loyalty or competence. “This one’s mine,” he’d say, the flip of his coin deciding whether the threat ended there—or escalated further.

Edward Nygma aka. The Riddler

- Edward immediately gravitated toward you when you joined his crew. Your intelligence was obvious, and he couldn’t resist testing it. “Riddle me this,” he said with a smirk, throwing out puzzles and watching with delight as you solved them with ease. “Finally,” he exclaimed, “someone worthy of my brilliance!”

- He quickly made you his personal protégé, dragging you into his elaborate schemes and assigning you tasks that required both wit and precision. “Don’t disappoint me,” he warned, though the gleam in his eye suggested he didn’t expect you to. Your successes only fueled his ego, making him more confident in his choice.

- Edward loved showing off around you, often monologuing about his genius or presenting you with his latest riddles. He craved your approval, though he’d never admit it outright. “You see it, don’t you?” he’d ask, leaning closer. “How much smarter I am than everyone else?”

- As your bond grew, Edward became more possessive of your time and attention. He’d grow irritable if you worked with anyone else, muttering about how “inferior minds” didn’t deserve your talents. “You’re wasted on them,” he’d say, his tone dripping with disdain.

- Despite his arrogance, Edward valued your opinions deeply. He’d often ask for your input during planning sessions, genuinely considering your ideas. When you outsmarted him in a rare moment, he was equal parts annoyed and impressed. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he grumbled, though his smile betrayed his pride in you.

- Beneath his bravado, Edward harbored a genuine fondness for you. In quieter moments, he’d confide in you about his insecurities, his voice softer and more vulnerable than you’d ever heard. “Do you think they’ll ever truly understand me?” he asked once, his question laced with an uncharacteristic hint of doubt.

Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin

- Oswald was skeptical when you first joined his ranks. He’d seen plenty of attractive recruits come and go, and he assumed you’d be no different. But when you demonstrated your sharp mind and ability to navigate his world, he quickly took notice. “Hmm,” he muttered, adjusting his monocle. “You might be more useful than you look.”

- He began assigning you more important tasks, watching closely to see how you handled yourself. When you not only met but exceeded his expectations, he couldn’t help but be impressed. “Well, well,” he said with a smirk. “It seems I’ve underestimated you.”

- Oswald had a flair for theatrics, and he loved dragging you into his schemes. He’d show off his wealth and power, often treating you to luxurious dinners or gifting you extravagant trinkets. “Consider it an investment,” he’d say, though his smug grin suggested otherwise.

- Over time, Oswald’s respect for you grew into admiration. He appreciated your loyalty and competence, valuing you as more than just another underling. “You’ve got potential,” he told you one night, his tone unusually sincere. “Stick with me, and you’ll go far.”

- Despite his ruthless nature, Oswald showed surprising protectiveness over you. If anyone dared to disrespect or threaten you, they’d find themselves at the mercy of his sharp-tipped umbrella. “No one crosses the Penguin,” he growled, his eyes cold. “Especially not someone under my wing.”

- Oswald’s attachment to you became evident in his quieter moments. He’d share stories of his past, his voice tinged with bitterness and longing. “The world never gave me a chance,” he said once, his gaze distant. “But you—you’re different. You’ve got what it takes to survive.”

[coachbeards]

I just do not know if some people realize that Michelle not liking Ted’s constant optimism … was because it was a flaw of his lmao. A byproduct of 30 years of trauma. Ted has a MASK. that’s what even sharon calls him out on when they first have a proper conversation…Ted has a mask. And he has for years. And when you’re married to someone who won’t take that mask off because they can’t, you can get a little tired with it

[priniya]

🌌 TOO MANY NIGHTS

synopsis. theodore nott spent too many nights, smoking and hanging out with matt’s little sister to not make her his girlfriend.

notes. theodore nott x riddle!reader. reader is a hufflepuff! pls, let’s pretend you’re 12 when u get to hogwarts xoxo, just for the plot

theodore nott had always been fascinated by how many differences there were between his best friend mattheo and mattheo’s younger sister. while mattheo wanted to fight anyone, who just scrunched their nose at him, you would rather have your nose broken, so the other person wouldn’t have to go through that pain. while mattheo could be consider as the grumpy (their oldest sibling obviously being the grumpier), you held the tilte of the sunshine.

theo believed it suited you. ever since the three of you were kids, mattheo had his best friend grow protective of you in the same way he had, looking out for you even if you didn’t want it. however, whenever it was nott making your blood boil with some nonsense — you couldn’t get as mad at him as you’d get at your brother. it’s because he’s not my brother, he’s theo, you’d always tell yourself. the truth was that as much as you wanted, you could never be angry with him.

the same thing continued when you started hogwarts. although, you could feel the shifting of your friendship with theo. maybe it all started to happen, because you were growing up, or maybe it was meant to be like that. anyways — you found yourself dreaming of your childhood friend in situations… that made you blush profusely whenever you walked passed him. it was complicating things so much you tried to push it aside, nevertheless to no avail.

“you like him.” a friend of yours joked, when you confessed your thoughts about theo, and… even if gabriela said it in a joking way, you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.

turns out, she was.

it was all revealed, when another older friend of yours asked you out to the yule ball, and you had to watch theo having fun with daphne greengrass as well as their own group of friends that you weren’t a part of. did it sting? like hell. should’ve you expected it? absolutely. some would say — you should wait for the moment, when he asks you to the ball, but you knew you were just matt’s little sister in his eyes. a mere childhood friend he used to play with when he was younger, though all that ended the second he (and your brother) got his letter, from this moment on theodore nott was a serious, adult man.

few years later, when the slytherins were throwing a party in celebration of mattheo’s eighteen birthday, as his sister, you got an invitation. as much as you loved your brother, you definitely weren’t a big party person — you’d rather spend your time in the smaller group of people, chilling to the muggle music and maybe get high. nonetheless, it was your sibling’s birthday and you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you didn’t show up.

to be fair, matt’s celebration was one of the first slytherin parties you ever attended, and from all the rumors coating its mysterious aura, your expectations were pretty high.

gabriela, the friend of yours, whom you confided in having a small crush on theo, apparently never forgotten that conversation and decided to ‘spice your night a tad’, her exact words. she lent you a fitted, emerald, silky dress that ended slightly above your knee, she did your make up and gave a nose kiss for good luck.

for the first two and a half hour of the party, you couldn’t really catch a glimpse of the boy you were looking for, so your attention were turned towards plan b, which was getting wasted — and maybe meeting someone to get your brother’s best friend off your mind. so as i said, two and a half hour later, you were much more eccentric, bubbly, and definitely more ray of sunshine, caused by the loads of alcohol you put in yourself.

“teddy!” you exclaimed with a grin as you swiftly made your way towards where he was sitting in the corner of the room. a cigarette in his hand, few of his first buttons undone, a smirk lingering on his lips, although it was gone the second he saw you, being replaced with a genuine, but almost unnoticeable smile.

“riddle.” he replied. the corners of his lips went slightly upwards as your hands were wrapped around him, right after you plopped down on the couch next to him. “drunk?” theo asked, his head tilted to the side to get a better view of your flushed face.

“never.” a giggle slipped past your lips. you leaned more on him, serving him another one of your charming beams. “can i have a hypothetical question?”

“hypothetical?” he echoed your words, suppressing a laugh in attempt to not hurt your drunken feelings. “sure, riddle. go on.” nott added upon seing you nod your head.

“could you give me one of your cigarettes?” you grinned once again, putting all effort into a pleading puppy expression you thought you’ve mastered. his answers made you uncertain about your manipulation/daddy’s girl skills.

once again, theodore fought back a chuckle, putting on a teasing smirk. “no.”

“teddy!”

“what? wasn’t it hypothetical?” he snickered, watching you groan theatrically, lowering yourself on the green sofa. it took him a moment to ease your needs and pull out a package of muggle cigarettes that made you raise your eyebrow in curiosity at him. “they’re the best, believe me.” he mumbled with a cigarette in between his lips.

soon after, he tugged you closer after having looked around to see if mattheo was out of sight. as soon as his nerves were settled and your brother was nowhere to be found, theo’s fingers were wrapped around the lighter he bought in second year. the asshole he was, it felt like he was lighting it up for so long you were about to turn eighty. his gaze was instantly focused on your eyes. butterflies were slowly erupting in your stomach with each second he slacked off to light it.

somehow, you two parted your ways few minutes later, ending the sparkling moment between you two with a quick and rash kiss on nott’s cheek, a little too close to his lips for your brother’s liking, too far for yours.

although, the separation didn’t last too long. at least for him, because, when you met him again, you were drunk out of your mind, giggling at every single word someone said to you. good thing theo’s gut feeling told him to look after you.

you were stumbling over your own feet, stuttering at easiest words until you finally landed in paradise— or just his arms. accidentally, but you could cross it out from your checklist, not that you had one.

“hiya.” a soft smile made its way onto your face as he tightened the grip on your waist, not because you smiled so charmingly at him, but also because some older dudes that occupied his previous spot was busy undressing you with their eyes.

if you weren’t mattheo’s little sister, he’d probably try to get you to agree to have a quick round in his round, hell — maybe not even that quick, he could spend an entire night with a girl like you. unfortunately, the reality was different. he could never take an advantage of you, you were too… you and theodore nott liked that too much to just… ruin it.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, frowning as he picked you up and turned towards the staircase. “teddy– put me down, please.” the words left your lips in a slurred manner, but theodore didn’t budge, not even once.

the teenager obeyed your request the moment he walked through the door to his dormitory that was shared with mattheo. theodore sat you on his bed, his green eyes scanning your face intently, while you stiffled a laughter. as a result, you got a confused expression from him. “what?” he asked.

“you’re so pretty.” a soft mumble left your mouth. it had always been hard to catch theodore nott off guard, mostly because he was an intelligent and cunning person, who always noticed the bigger picture, predict the intentions before someone even opened their mouth, yet you did it. if your mind wasn’t so clouded with alcohol, you’d count it as a small win.

anyway, theo didn’t let your words get too much of a hold on him as he silently continued to undress you. as wrong as it sounds, he was doing you a simple favour — nott wanted to bring you comfort and safety, so he dragged you to his dorm and began unzipping your dress, leaving you in your underwear.

it took the boy all the possible strength he had in himself to control all the urges he just felt. it would be so wrong if he got hard just from the mere sight of the goddess sitting in front of him, with pouty lips and a baffled expression caused by his lack of response to her compliment.

“teddy?” you tried getting his attention once again, involuntarily scrapping off the polish of your nails as your eyes rested on his back, watching him shuffle through his closet to find you a comfortable pyjama.

to be fair, theo absolutely loathed the nickname. teddy reminded him of a child he used to be, a child with a loving mother, who would always call him that exact nickname. it wasn’t too much of a hassle, because no one called him that — until you did and it seemed like you couldn’t get rid of it from your vocabulary. somehow, it never bugged him when you did it. the way ‘teddy’ rolled off your tongue always gave him some sort of warm feeling in his stomach.

“mm?” your brother’s best friend muttered, his back still facing you. seconds later, he’s again in front of you, nudging you yet so slightly, so you put your hands above your head. “what is it, y/n/n?” he used the nickname you haven’t heard in a while, causing a literal war in your abdomen.

“could you kiss me?” for barely a second, his brain stopped functioning. he stopped in his tracks, oversized t–shirt still in his hands, all that until he decided to spare your embarrassment the next day and acted like he didn’t just hear what he heard. he was foolish for thinking that a sight of you almost naked and not getting a hard–on was the worst part of his night. now, theodore’s brain was filled with images of you two making out, and… it’s tough.

wordlessly, he finally put the shirt on you, nudging you afterwards, worry was still vividly lingering on his face as he watched you getting comfortable. “i’ll be right here.” nott murmured, grabbing a pillow, laying down on the floor. theo on one side of his bed, the bucket he brought you in case throwing up on the other.

both of you knew that he could go back downstairs, maybe even hook–up with some girl and spend the night at her dorm, just like mattheo did. nevertheless, he stayed there right with you.

it was further in the night, when you woke up and noticed that he still occupied his spot on the floor next to the bed. a pang of guilt hit you (as well as the pounding in your head) as you stared at his peaceful state.

merlin, theodore faustus nott was today times’ adonis and you felt like you could just spend the rest of the night gawking at how insanely beautiful he was. you could barely resist the urge to run your hand through his dark curls.

“you know i can feel you’re staring, riddle?” theo chuckled with his eyes still closed. shit. at least it was dark enough, so he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. “somethin’ bothering you?” he asked, giving you a concerned look.

“sleep on the bed, please?” you pleaded. he was about to refuse, when you continued. “i know you don’t want to kiss me, but it breaks my heart seeing you suffer there, when there’s enough room for two people here.” the words coming out of your mouth are quiet. the embarrassment and absurdity of this whole situation got to you — if you just didn’t ask him to kiss you, he’d probably sleep in the bed with you, but you obviously had to ruin it.

“y/n/n, i want to kiss you.” he said, his tone matching yours. “but i can’t, you know it. mattheo would kill me the second he knew.” theo knew he shouldn’t but the urge was too great to resist, so he placed his hands on your knees, reducing the distance between the two of you.

“matt doesn’t have to know.” a whispers left your lips as you leaned an inch closer, brushing the tip of your nose against theo’s. “teddy, please.” you pleaded, staring at him with urgency in your eyes.

it took theodore half a second to consider his options. he could’ve refused and regret it afterwards, but stay alive or he could’ve just kissed you and maybe get into a heated argument with mattheo. so… a voice in his head said fuck it and kissed you with all those feelings he’s had in him.

you could feel your entire world stop the second his lips fell on yours with urgency and passion. it was all you ever dreamed of, he was the guy who was your last thought before sleep and the first after waking up. a silly, childhood crush that developed over the years into… something you couldn’t describe. theodore nott had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing it — if he asked you to jump into a fire pit for a longing glance, you wouldn’t think about it twice and jump.

your fingers were tangled in his curls as he, without breaking the kiss, leaned more towards you, until your back hit the fabric of his sheets. to be completely honest, you felt like your stomach was about to be ripped apart just from the proximity between the two of you.

the kiss lasted way longer than you expected. it could’ve been hours, but you could never been sure. his lips were just inches apart, when he pulled away yet so slighty, letting out a groan as you nudged the tip of your nose again his.

“you don’t even know how much i wanted to do that.” his words were quiet. “matt will kill me, won’t he?” a low chuckle espaced his throat qs you let out a groan in response.

“could you stop mentioning my brother and just kiss me, nott?”

[mononijikayu]

supersonic — gojo satoru.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?” You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?” He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?” “......I’m sorry, what?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence;

Warning/s: General Rating, SFW, Romance, Fluff, Humour, Comfort/No Hurt, Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Sorcerer! Reader, Tsundere! Reader, Feelings, Romantic Confession, Getting Together, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Happy Ending, Gojo Satoru Loves Reader But Reader Doesn't Know How to React;

Words: 8k words.

Note: the bubble words is gojo saying you shouldn't fall hard for him!!! i didn't think this would be longer than 5k but I just??? i swear someone has to tell me not to make stuff longer because i feel bad that its way too long and people just suffer my yapping </3 anyway, i love you all!!! thank you so much for reading once again <3

masterlist

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YOU LIKE TO THINK THAT YOU HAVE GOOD MEMORY. You often boasted to Atsuya about your memory, especially during exam season or when the two of you had to write detailed reports after every mission. It was a point of pride—being able to recall every detail with sharp accuracy, a skill that set you apart.

But lately, that once-reliable memory has been betraying you, twisting itself into something both frustrating and bittersweet. Because now, instead of recalling battle strategies or obscure curses, you find yourself remembering everything about him. Gojo Satoru.

No matter how much you try to push the memories away, they persist, etched into your mind like an indelible mark. It’s infuriating because he’s the last person you want to think about. Yet, there he is, popping into your thoughts when you least expect it, with that smug grin and irritatingly carefree attitude.

You can’t forget that day during the Sister School Goodwill Event in your first year. It’s impossible. That was the first time you met Gojo Satoru, and even now, the memory of it lingers like a stubborn shadow. He was everything you couldn’t stand—arrogant, always grinning like he knew something you didn’t, and constantly cracking jokes that got under your skin. The moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was in trouble.

He’d waltzed into the event with an air of confidence that bordered on cocky, his white hair catching the sunlight as if to announce his presence to the world. You remember the way his sunglasses glinted as he surveyed the arena, looking completely at ease, like he owned the place.

And maybe, in a way, he did—after all, his reputation had preceded him. The strongest sorcerer of his generation, a prodigy unlike any other. Everyone was talking about him, and you had been curious, but when you finally met him, that curiosity quickly morphed into annoyance.

It wasn’t just his arrogance; it was the way he seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to push your buttons, like he had a map of your every weakness. From the moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was trouble.

He didn’t even bother with formalities, didn’t extend his hand or offer a respectful bow like any normal person might when meeting someone new. No, Gojo Satoru made his grand entrance with all the subtlety of a peacock in full display.

“Hey there, I’m Gojo Satoru. Don't fall in love with me too much, okay?” he said, his tone so light and casual it was as if he was talking about the weather. 

And then came that wink—oh, that infuriating wink. It was the kind of wink that dripped with self-assurance, as if he’d already decided that the world, including you, was his playground. The kind that made your blood pressure spike and your temper flare in an instant.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you glared at him, eyes narrowing into a scowl that you hoped would convey just how unimpressed you were. But if you expected him to back down, to maybe realize that he’d crossed a line, you were sorely mistaken. Gojo didn’t just take your scowl in stride—he laughed, a sound that was as easy and carefree as everything else about him. 

The laughter caught you off guard. It wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t exactly kind either. It was the kind of laugh that made it clear he was enjoying this, enjoying you. It was like he’d found a new toy to play with, and your irritation only made it more fun for him.

“Aw, come on, don’t look at me like that.” he’d said, still chuckling. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. We’re supposed to be having fun with this, right? No need to be so serious.”

But you were serious—deadly so. This wasn’t some lighthearted game to you; it was a competition, a test of skills and strength, something you’d been training for relentlessly. The Sister School Goodwill Event was your chance to prove yourself, to show that you weren’t just some novice from Kyoto who could be easily brushed aside. And here was Gojo Satoru, with his casual grin and infuriatingly relaxed demeanor, treating the whole thing like a joke.

Yet no matter how much you glared, or how much you tried to put him in his place with your icy demeanor, it seemed to only amuse him more. He had this way of tilting his head just so, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he were daring you to say something, to try and put him in his place. But what could you say? Anything that came to mind seemed to bounce off him like water off a duck’s back. He was untouchable, not just in skill but in personality.

And that’s what really got to you. The way he seemed to glide through life without a care, untouched by the things that would have sent anyone else into a spiral of self-doubt. He was arrogant, yes, but it was the kind of arrogance that was infuriatingly earned. He knew he was good—no, he knew he was the best—and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

As the day went on, you found yourself trying not to react to his constant quips and jabs, but it was like trying to ignore a particularly persistent mosquito. The more you tried to brush him off, the more determined he seemed to get a rise out of you. And the worst part was, he was succeeding. Every time you shot him a glare or bit back a retort, he’d just laugh that infuriating laugh, as if to say, “See? I knew I’d get to you.”

It was like he could see right through you, past the carefully constructed walls you’d built to keep people at a distance. He saw how much you cared, how much you wanted to succeed, and he poked at that vulnerability with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Not because he was cruel, but because he found it entertaining.

And that’s what made him so insufferable. He wasn’t just some cocky sorcerer throwing his weight around—he was someone who enjoyed getting under your skin, who relished in the challenge of breaking down your defenses. To him, it was all a game, and you were the unwitting participant. 

Looking back now, you can almost see the moment he decided you were worth his attention. It wasn’t when you scowled at him or tried to brush off his comments; it was when he realized that no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, you couldn’t hide the way he got to you. And from that moment on, it was as if he’d made it his personal mission to see just how far he could push you.

He was everything you couldn’t stand in a person—arrogant, overconfident, and far too comfortable with himself. But even then, there was a part of you that knew there was more to him than just that. A part of you that recognized that behind the jokes and the winks, there was someone who saw the world in a way you didn’t quite understand, someone who, for better or worse, was going to be a part of your life whether you liked it or not.

That was the beginning of your tumultuous relationship with Gojo. Every interaction since then had been a battle of wits, with him always managing to get the upper hand, no matter how hard you tried to stay one step ahead. He was insufferable, and yet… you can’t stop thinking about him.

You remember how Gojo had effortlessly dodged your attacks during that time. He was skilled and perceptive. It wasn’t just that he was fast—he moved with a fluidity that made it seem as though he was dancing rather than fighting.

Each time you lunged at him, he sidestepped or spun away with an ease that was almost maddening. His grin never faltered, never wavered. It was as if he were enjoying the entire spectacle, completely unfazed by your every attempt to land a hit.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?” he’d taunted, his voice carrying a casual amusement that only fueled your frustration.

The way he said it, so nonchalant and dismissive, made it clear he wasn’t just teasing—you were genuinely failing to impress him. It wasn’t just a challenge to him; it was a game. And for someone like Gojo, who seemed to have everything handed to him on a silver platter, the stakes felt almost trivial.

What made it even more infuriating was the way he seemed to almost predict your every move. No matter how you changed your strategy, how you tried to outthink him, he was always one step ahead. It was as if he had a sixth sense for reading your intentions, a talent that made him appear almost supernatural. Every dodge, every counter, was executed with a precision that left no room for error.

In that moment, it felt as though the fight wasn’t just about physical skill—it was a battle of wills. You were pouring everything you had into trying to best him, to prove that you were more than just a novice from Kyoto. But Gojo’s demeanor, his seemingly effortless ability to avoid and counter your attacks, made it feel as though you were trying to fight against an immovable force.

It wasn’t just that he was good; it was the way he made it look so easy. It was like watching someone play a video game on the easiest difficulty setting while you were struggling on the hardest. His ease in the face of your best efforts was both impressive and infuriating. It was clear he was toying with you, not out of malice but because he genuinely enjoyed the challenge, however mild it might have been for him.

Every time you threw a punch or unleashed a spell, his reaction was a mix of amusement and mild surprise. It wasn’t as if he underestimated you—he knew exactly what you were capable of, and he relished the chance to outmaneuver you. His grin was a constant reminder that he was having fun, that he wasn’t taking this seriously because he didn’t have to. For him, it was all just another day, another opportunity to show off his skills.

“You’re strong!” He tells you with a grin on his face. “Let’s be friends! Give me your phone number, quick!”

"Huh?"

"Hurry, bring out your flip phone already!"

"We're in the middle of a one on one, you idiot!"

"So? I wanna be your friend!"

And that was what made him so exasperating. The whole event felt like it was being played out on his terms, with him in control of every aspect. To him, it was less about proving himself and more about showing just how superior he was in a way that made it almost seem effortless. The arrogance wasn’t just in his words; it was in every action, every movement that demonstrated his dominance.

For you, the fight was a matter of pride, a chance to show that you were more than capable, that you could stand toe-to-toe with someone of his caliber. But every time you saw that grin, every time you heard that taunting voice, it drove home the fact that no matter what you did, you were always going to be playing catch-up. And the more you tried, the more it seemed like you were just feeding into his amusement.

The whole experience left you feeling both frustrated and oddly impressed. Frustrated because you couldn’t seem to catch him, no matter how hard you tried. Impressed because, despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but admire his skill and confidence. It was a bittersweet combination of emotions, one that made you both present and respect him in equal measure. And as much as you wanted to forget that day, Gojo’s presence in your mind remained an ever-present reminder of the challenge he represented—and the way he seemed to effortlessly stay one step ahead.

But what bothers you the most is how, despite all of his flaws, there’s something about him that draws you in. No matter how hard you try to deny it, those memories of him, those moments where he’d flash you that grin or make a ridiculous joke, are seared into your mind.

You find yourself remembering the smallest details—the way his voice sounded when he teased you, the warmth of his hand when he’d casually patted your shoulder after a mission, the way his eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses, seemed to see right through you.

It’s maddening because you’ve spent so much time trying to forget, trying to focus on anything but him. But no matter what you do, the memories remain, vivid and persistent. And it leaves you wondering, despite everything, why you can’t just let go. Why, after all this time, you’re still thinking about Gojo Satoru.

Back then, when you first met Gojo Satoru during the Sister School Goodwill Event, you had quickly dismissed him as just another arrogant brat who seemed to have the world handed to him on a silver platter. His cocky attitude, the way he flaunted his abilities, and his effortless charm made it all too easy to write him off.

To you, he was nothing more than a figure of annoyance—a sorcerer who, with his overconfidence and privileged position, would never be someone you’d get along with. It seemed clear from the start that your paths would never truly align.

Fast forward to the summer break of that year, and you find yourself face-to-face with him again. The sun blazes overhead, turning every outdoor spot into a sweltering inferno.

You're trying to navigate the heat while staying cool, but Gojo Satoru appears as if the oppressive temperature doesn’t affect him at all. His white hair seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and he’s wearing his trademark sunglasses, the kind that makes him look perpetually unbothered.

You’re waiting in line at a smoothie stand, desperately trying to cool down with a cone in hand. You were fanning yourself, trying to evade the intensity of the strong Kyoto sun. That’s when he shows up, casually strolling towards you with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey there, struggling to beat the heat?” Gojo calls out, his tone light and teasing. 

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for his games. “It’s scorching out here, Gojo. Not exactly the time for you to be playing your little tricks.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m just here to offer some company. Can’t have you melting away all alone, can I?”

You try to ignore him, focusing on your drink as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Gojo isn’t deterred. He follows you as you leave the stand, his presence like an unwelcome shadow. “So, where are you headed next? I hear there’s a nice little café down the street. We could cool off there.”

“I’m not interested, Gojo.” you snap, quickening your pace.

“Are you sure?” he persists, easily matching your stride. “It’s not every day you get to hang out with the strongest sorcerer in town. I promise I won’t bite.”

You shoot him a skeptical glance. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he grins. “You look like you could use a break, and I could use some company. Besides, I’m a great conversationalist. You might even enjoy it.”

Despite yourself, you find his persistence a bit endearing. You sigh, finally relenting. “Fine. One quick stop at the café, and then you leave me alone.”

“Deal!” Gojo exclaims, his grin widening. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

At the café, as you sit across from him, the air conditioning feels like a blessing. Gojo Satoru is still as relaxed as ever, leaning back in his chair with that same self-assured smirk. “See? Much better, right?”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, this is definitely better. But don’t think this means I’m going to start liking you or anything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, captain!” Gojo says, his tone playful. “I’m just here to make sure you’re not melting away into a puddle of frustration.”

As the conversation flows, his teasing starts to feel less like an annoyance and more like genuine fun. He talks about his latest adventures, exaggerates stories in his usual dramatic fashion, and even shares some surprisingly insightful observations about the work you both do. Somehow, he manages to not get on your nerves today.

“You know,” he says between bites of his own ice cream, “for someone who hates me so much, you sure seem to enjoy spending time with me right now.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m just making the best of a bad situation.”

“Well, I’d like to think it’s more than that.” Gojo says with a wink. “Maybe you’re starting to see that I’m not just a cocky brat. Maybe I’m actually kind of fun.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gojo.” you warn, though you’re smiling. “This doesn’t change anything. I still think you’re incredibly annoying.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Gojo chuckles. “But I’ll take that as a win for now. Maybe one day, I’ll get you to admit that I’m not so bad after all.”

As you finish up your meal, you reflect on how different this encounter is from your first meeting. The arrogance is still there, but it’s mixed with a kind of charm that’s hard to ignore. Despite yourself, you find that you’re enjoying his company, and maybe, just maybe, there’s more to him than the cocky façade he puts on.

By the end of the day, as you part ways, you can’t shake the feeling that this summer break—this unexpected reunion—might just be the start of something different. Gojo’s persistence has managed to chip away at your defenses, and you’re left wondering if there’s more to this irritating sorcerer than meets the eye.

You tell yourself he’s still as annoying as ever, but your heart betrays you, pounding in your chest whenever he’s near. You don’t understand why, but you can't help but feel drawn to him. Every time you think of how he made you laugh when you least expected it, or how his confidence seemed to shield you from the world, your feelings get more confusing.

Is it possible that the guy who irritates you so much is the same one who’s now making your heart race? You can’t figure it out, but one thing’s for sure—something has changed, and you can’t ignore it anymore. You try to shake it off, convincing yourself it’s just the heat messing with your mind. After all, why would you like someone like Gojo Satoru? 

He’s arrogant, overconfident, and never takes anything seriously. But then, you remember how, during that first encounter, he didn’t just laugh at you—he noticed things. Little things. Like how you tried to stay strong even when you were clearly out of your comfort zone, or how you struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the event but never gave up.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, that he’s just good at reading people. Yet, the memory of his voice, the way he looked at you with those sharp eyes hidden behind his glasses, keeps replaying in your mind. The more you think about it, the harder it becomes to deny what you’re feeling.

It’s frustrating. You’re not supposed to like someone who drives you crazy, who makes you question everything about yourself. But here you are, your heart beating faster every time you think of him, and that infuriating smirk of his. Why did he have to be so… so irritatingly charming?

You find yourself wondering what it would be like to see him again, to have him tease you just so you can feel that strange flutter in your chest. But then, you immediately scold yourself for even thinking that way. There’s no way you could actually like him… right?

But deep down, you know the truth. No matter how much you try to deny it, the thought of Gojo Satoru won’t leave your mind. And with each passing day, the line between irritation and affection blurs just a little bit more. Yet you can’t do much about it. One way or another, somehow—you were just stuck with him being around. In Kyoto or Tokyo, or everywhere else. He’s just somehow always round. 

Months passed by, and it was summer again.

You’re sitting with Shoko Ieiri under the shade of a tree, fanning yourself with a hand to combat the relentless summer heat. It’s one of those rare, blissful afternoons where you’ve managed to carve out some free time. With Utahime-senpai occupied with a mission from Gakuganji and no assignments on your plate, you decided to take advantage of the break to catch up with Shoko. The two of you have become quite good friends over time, and her presence is a welcome relief from the sweltering heat. And you think that even under this hot summer this year, you’ll end up becoming better friends.

Shoko leans back against the tree, her posture relaxed as she takes a sip from her drink. She listens with a wry smile as you continue your tirade. You’ve been going on about Gojo Satoru for what feels like hours now, pouring out your frustrations about how annoying and insufferable he is.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Shoko. He just—ugh! He keeps showing up everywhere I go! It’s like he has a personal vendetta to make my life miserable.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow, her smile barely containing the amusement she’s clearly feeling. “And yet, you don’t seem to be able to stop talking about him.”

“That’s because he’s impossible to ignore!” you exclaim, waving your fan more vigorously. “He’s always so… so smug! Always grinning like he’s got some big secret. I can’t stand it!”

Shoko chuckles, taking another sip of her drink. “You know, the way you’re describing him, it almost sounds like you’ve got a bit of a crush.”

You nearly choke on your own breath. “A crush? Are you kidding me? I can’t stand him! He’s arrogant and insufferable. There’s no way I’d ever—”

Shoko cuts you off with a knowing look. “Oh, come on. It’s perfectly normal to be irritated by someone you’re secretly interested in. You’re practically obsessed with him.”

“I am not!” you insist, your face turning a shade redder as you realize how ridiculous you must sound. “I’m just... venting! He’s always there, poking at my patience, and it drives me insane!”

“Uh-huh.” Shoko says, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “And yet, you’ve been ranting about him for an hour now. You don’t do that with just anyone.”

You huff, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s because he’s a special kind of irritating. There’s nothing romantic about it, Shoko. It’s purely aggravation!”

Shoko leans in, her expression teasing. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But if you don’t want to talk about Gojo, maybe we should switch topics.”

Before you can respond, a familiar voice calls out from behind you. “Hey, I didn’t realize I’d find you here.”

You turn to see Gojo Satoru standing a few feet away, his sunglasses reflecting the sunlight in a way that makes him look even more infuriatingly cool. Beside him was Geto Suguru, who had a face that reflected yours. He was, you supposed, as done as you were with the man with bright cerulean eyes. You purse your lips. He’s grinning, that same smirk plastered across his face as he casually approaches.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, trying to keep your irritation in check. “This is a private conversation, Gojo. Leave us alone.”

“Yeah, Satoru.” Geto parrotted back, his hands in his pockets. “Leave them alone!”

Gojo just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “How cold! I was just passing by and thought I’d say hello. But it seems like I’m interrupting something. Were you talking about me?”

Shoko suppresses a grin behind her drink as you try to regain your composure. “No, we were just—”

As Gojo stands there, still grinning, Shoko decides to have a little fun. She leans in, looking as though she’s about to share a juicy secret. “Actually, I was just telling her how annoying you are,” she interjects with a playful nudge. “In detail too. Nothing was held back.”

Gojo’s smirk only widens, clearly amused by Shoko’s teasing. Before he can respond, Geto Suguru—who has been hovering just out of sight—steps into view. He’s carrying a large bag of sweets and looks somewhat frazzled, his usual cool demeanor slightly ruffled. He looked so worn out, you think. Much too much heat and Gojo, you feel for the guy.

“Honestly, you should have called me. Geto says with a grin, eyeing both you and Shoko. “I have a lot more to share about this freak.”

You turn to Geto, eyes wide in surprise. “What did you just call him?”

“HUH!? Suguboo, how dare you call me a freak?” Gojo’s voice rises in mock outrage, his face turning into an exaggerated scowl.

Geto rolls his eyes, clearly unbothered by Gojo’s antics. “You dragged me around Tokyo to buy sweets all day. I can’t feel my body anymore.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his expression one of mild exasperation. “You’re currently not on my good side.”

Gojo throws a hand up in dramatic defense. “Hey, I had to make sure you didn’t miss out on the best sweets Tokyo has to offer! It’s not my fault if you overindulge.”

Geto shakes his head, still grumbling. “I’m pretty sure it was more than just overindulgence. I was about ready to collapse by the end of it.”

Shoko laughs, thoroughly enjoying the banter. “See, you’re not the only one who has complaints about Gojo. Even Geto here has his grievances.”

You look from Shoko to Gojo and then to Geto, feeling a mix of amusement and relief. The dynamic between the three of them is light and playful, and it’s clear that there’s a strong sense of camaraderie, despite the occasional grumbling.

“Well, it’s nice to know I’m not alone in my irritation,” you say, letting out a small chuckle.

Gojo’s grin turns into a more genuine smile as he turns to you. “Hey, don’t be too hard on me. If I’m really that annoying, at least I’m entertaining.”

Geto snorts, clearly unimpressed. “Entertaining or not, you owe me for today. We’re going to need a serious dessert break after all that.”

You nod in agreement, feeling more at ease with the situation. “Agreed. And Gojo, don’t think you’re off the hook just because you showed up here. I’m still not happy about you popping up everywhere I go. You’re so annoying!”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Annoying, huh? Well, I guess that’s one way to describe me. But if I’m annoying, why do you keep bringing me up?”

You groan, feeling the heat on your face increase, whether from the sun or from embarrassment you can’t tell. You didn’t want to know.  “Oh, just go away. We were having a perfectly nice conversation before you showed up.”

Gojo chuckles and leans casually against the tree. “Well, I was hoping you might invite me to join you. But if I’m that annoying, I guess I’ll just have to prove I’m not.”

Shoko looks between you and Gojo, clearly enjoying the scene. “You know, it’s kind of nice to see you two together. It’s like watching a rom–com soap opera, but with crazy strong superpowers.”

You shoot Shoko a mock glare, though it's clear you’re not truly upset. The corners of your mouth twitch into a smile despite your best efforts to look annoyed. “Thanks for your support, Shoko.”

Suguru Geto, still holding the bag of sweets, grins broadly. “Shoko, you and your talent for fueling fires. I swear, you live for this kind of chaos.”

Shoko, not missing a beat, gives an exaggerated bow. “Anytime, folks. I’m here for your entertainment. It’s my specialty, after all.”

Geto chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you enjoy stirring up trouble more than actually helping out.”

“Maybe,” Shoko admits with a playful glint in her eye. “But where’s the fun in being boring?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange. It’s moments like these, filled with light-hearted teasing and genuine friendship, that make summer breaks so enjoyable. The heat of the day, the annoyances of the past, and even the unexpected encounters with Gojo seem to fade into the background as you relax with friends who make even the most mundane moments entertaining.

“Well…..” you say, still smiling, “if I have to deal with more of Gojo’s antics, I’m glad I have you two around. It definitely makes the experience more bearable.”

Shoko grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We aim to please. Just remember, if Gojo starts getting on your nerves again, you know where to find us.”

“Absolutely.” Geto adds, lifting the bag of sweets in a mock salute. “And if you need more sweets to get through it, I’ll be your guy. Though, I can’t promise I won’t complain about it.”

“Oh, Suguru! There’s a Digimon-themed café nearby!” Gojo exclaims, excitement clear in his voice as he checks his flip phone. His eyes are practically sparkling with enthusiasm as he waves the phone in front of Suguru and you.

Suguru Geto, clearly exhausted from the earlier sweet spree and the relentless summer heat, groans. “Hehhhh, I don’t wanna go anymore, Satoru. I’m tired.”

Gojo, however, is undeterred by Suguru’s reluctance. He leans in, practically vibrating with eagerness. “Suguru, please! You can sit down throughout while I do my thing. They have card trades going on there right now! You know how rare those are.”

Suguru looks at Gojo with a mix of amusement and frustration. “Card trades? Really? Is that what’s got you so worked up?”

“Yes!” Gojo says, his voice rising with a mixture of pleading and excitement. “I’ve been looking for a specific card for ages. This is my chance!”

You watch the interaction with a smirk, enjoying the dynamic between the two. Suguru’s exhaustion is palpable, but Gojo’s enthusiasm is infectious. It’s clear that Gojo is determined to drag Suguru along, no matter how tired he is.

“Come on, Suguru!” Gojo continues, his tone softening as he tries to appeal to Suguru’s better nature. “Just a little while. You can rest while I geek out over the Digimon stuff. And there’s bound to be something good for you too, right? Maybe a nice, cool drink or something.”

Suguru sighs, clearly defeated but not entirely unmoved. “Alright, alright. But if this turns into another full day of Gojo dragging me around, I swear I’m going to collapse.”

“Deal!” Gojo says, beaming with satisfaction. “I promise we’ll keep it short. Just a quick visit, then we can head back. I owe you one, for real.”

Shoko could only sigh as though this is the hundredth time today. “Looks like we’re going to a cafe.”

“How do you deal with this everyday, Shoko?”

She shakes her head. “Believe me, you do not wanna know.”

As the four of you make your way to the café, you can’t help but chuckle at the contrast between Gojo’s boundless energy and Suguru’s weary resignation. It’s moments like these that highlight the unique blend of personalities and friendships that make summer days so memorable.

When you finally arrive at the Digimon-themed café, the atmosphere is lively, with colorful decorations and enthusiastic fans trading cards and chatting about their favorite characters. Gojo is immediately in his element, diving into the card trades with a fervor that makes you smile. 

Suguru, though still looking a bit tired, finds a comfortable spot to sit and relax, occasionally glancing over at Gojo with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Shojo sat beside you, sipping her cold peach iced tea. For a moment, the three of you look at Gojo and think he seems almost like a child.

“You’re a trooper, you know that?” you say, handing him a cool drink you picked up from the café. “I don’t know what I would do if Kusakabe dragged me half across town for a Digimon card.”

Suguru takes a sip and smirks. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day you get to see Gojo this excited. I guess it’s worth it. Plus, more excitement for him means he’ll be less active at the dorms tonight and not bother me.”

“That….” You paused. “So he runs out of energy too, huh?”

Suguru nodded. “Well, Satoru is a human being too. He gets tired too.”

“I think I like this version of him better.”

Shoko snickers. “You sure you don’t like him?”

“Now, now. Don’t scare them away, Sho.” Suguru smiles back at his friend. “If anything, they might be the last shot for Satoru to be a human being. After all, love makes one completely human.”

“B–but that’s not….. I don’t like him like that! He’s annoying and I just….”

“Denial that sounds like absolute lies is wasting Mother Earth’s air, you know?”

You shoot Shoko a playful glare, but your frustration is tempered by an internal chaos that’s increasingly difficult to ignore. Gojo, completely absorbed in his Digimon card quest, is a whirlwind of excitement and enthusiasm. His eyes are locked on the card he’s been wanting, and the moment he finally acquires it, his face lights up with an infectious joy that makes it hard for you to look away.

As Gojo gushes over the card and exchanges high-fives with fellow fans, you’re left sitting at the table with Shoko, trying to make sense of your own turbulent emotions. Your mind feels like a jumbled mess, caught between irritation and a confusing, unwelcome admiration. The way Gojo’s energy radiates around him, how his excitement seems to draw everyone in, including you—it’s all so bewildering.

Every time Gojo moves closer, whether he’s showing off his latest acquisition or simply passing by with that characteristic, carefree swagger, your heart races a little faster. It’s a reaction you can’t quite explain, and no matter how much you want to deny it, it’s becoming increasingly clear that you’re affected by him more than you’d like to admit.

You glance over at Shoko, who’s watching the scene with an amused expression. “How does he do it?” you ask, more to yourself than to her. “How does he make everything seem so... effortless?”

Shoko’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans back in her chair. “Oh, come on. You know exactly how he does it. It’s the same way he manages to get under your skin so easily.”

You try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the way he gets so wrapped up in things. It’s like nothing else matters to him.”

Shoko chuckles softly. “It’s his passion. It’s what makes him who he is. And it’s probably why you can’t seem to get him out of your mind, even when you try.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I thought I had him all figured out, but every time he’s near, it’s like everything I thought I knew just... unravels.”

Shoko’s grin widens as she takes a sip from her drink. “Sounds like you’re having a hard time sticking to your own rules. Maybe you’re just more affected by him than you want to admit.”

You shoot her another glare, but this time it’s softer, tinged with resignation. “Yeah, well, thanks for pointing that out. I really needed the reminder.”

As Gojo returns to your table, holding up his prized card with a triumphant grin, your heart skips a beat. His enthusiasm is undeniable, and despite your internal struggle, you can’t help but be drawn to his infectious energy. He flashes a quick, radiant smile in your direction before turning his attention to Suguru, who’s still looking somewhat worn out but is clearly amused by Gojo’s excitement.

“Look what I got!” Gojo announces, waving the card in front of Suguru and you. “It’s the one I’ve been searching for!”

You try to muster up a response, but the sight of Gojo’s unabashed joy and the warmth of his smile make it difficult to focus on anything else. Your heart continues to beat faster, and despite your best efforts to keep your feelings in check, it’s becoming increasingly clear that Gojo’s presence has a profound effect on you.

Shoko leans in closer, her voice a soft tease. “Looks like you’re in for an interesting summer. Who knows? Maybe there’s more to this adventure than just the heat.”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and acceptance. As Gojo continues to share his excitement with Suguru and the other café patrons, you find yourself caught up in the moment, realizing that no matter how much you try to resist it, Gojo Satoru is undeniably a part of your world now—one you can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard you try.

“I’m craving some ice cream, it’s still too hot.” You muttered under your breath towards Shoko. “I’m going to go and buy some.”

“You want me to go with you?” Shoko asked, looking up towards you. 

You shake your head. “I’ll need some time to think for a bit. Besides, it's just around the corner.”

She nodded back at you. “Okay, then call us when you come back. Gojo might be here a while, the nerd he is.”

“Sure.” You managed to mutter as you walked off.

It didn’t take you long to get to the ice cream store. You settle into a corner booth, hoping the relative solitude will give you a chance to cool down both physically and mentally. The air conditioning provides a much-needed respite from the relentless summer heat, and the cold, creamy sweetness of your ice cream is a soothing balm for your frayed nerves.

Despite the comfort of the cool air and the calming effect of the ice cream, your mind refuses to be at peace. It keeps drifting back to Gojo Satoru—his teasing words, that infuriating grin, and the effortless way he seemed to handle everything while you were left feeling like a tangled mess of frustration and confusion. You replay the scene in your head over and over, each replay adding another layer to your mounting exasperation.

You stab your spoon into the ice cream with a little more force than necessary, your frustration spilling over into the simple act of eating. The satisfying crunch of the spoon hitting the ice cream echoes your internal struggle. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice the door of the shop opening until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

“There you are.”

You freeze, spoon halfway to your mouth. Slowly, you look up to see Gojo Satoru standing in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow over your table. He’s got that same easygoing smile on his face, but there’s something different about his expression—something softer, almost hesitant.

“Where’s Suguru and Shoko?”

“They wanted to stay behind to rest up.”

“....Makes sense. You drained them up from energy.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he steps inside and takes a seat next to you at the small table.

You can’t help but feel a surge of panic mixed with irritation as you watch Gojo settle into the seat next to you. Of all the places in the city, why did he have to find you here, in this tiny ice cream store where you’d sought refuge from the chaos of the day? The familiar flutter in your chest is back, and despite your efforts to remain calm, your heart races as he sits down across from you.

Gojo’s presence feels overwhelming, and the proximity only amplifies your confusion. You can’t seem to reconcile the image of him as the carefree, teasing troublemaker with the more subdued, almost earnest expression he wore earlier. The combination of his unexpected arrival and the emotional turmoil from the day makes it hard to focus on anything else.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds filling the space are the steady hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of your spoon against the bowl of melting ice cream. It’s a stark contrast to the earlier energy of the café and the animated conversations you’d been a part of. Now, the silence feels almost oppressive, adding weight to the tension hanging between you.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on the ice cream, but the act of eating feels mechanical, a mere distraction from the growing unease. Each clink of your spoon against the bowl seems louder than it should be, amplifying the silence and making it harder to ignore the pounding of your heart.

Gojo, seemingly unfazed by the silence, takes a casual sip from his own ice cream. His relaxed demeanor is in sharp contrast to your internal turmoil, and it only serves to heighten your frustration. You want to break the silence, to say something that will diffuse the tension and make sense of the situation, but the words elude you.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?”

You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?”

He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?”

“......I’m sorry, what?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you suddenly feel the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But the words won’t come out. Instead, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and completely at a loss for what to say.

Gojo’s expression softens, and he gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I’m not the best at being subtle, I know. But I meant it. I like you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and in your shock, you try to respond—but instead of words, all that comes out is a choked gasp as you accidentally inhale a spoonful of ice cream.You start coughing, the cold dessert lodged in your throat as you struggle to catch your breath. Gojo’s eyes widen in alarm, and he quickly reaches over to pat your back, trying to help you out. 

“Hey, hey, easy! Are you okay?”

You manage to swallow the ice cream, though your throat still feels cold and tight. Your face is burning with embarrassment, and you can barely bring yourself to look at him. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine… I just… you just…”

Gojo lets out a relieved laugh, though there’s a hint of concern in his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shock you that much. I guess I should’ve picked a better time to say it, huh?”

You don’t know how to respond. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and something else you can’t quite identify. The fact that he just confessed, out of nowhere, is overwhelming, to say the least. He waits for you to say something, his usual playful demeanor tempered with genuine concern. 

“I’m serious, though. I know I tease you a lot, but that’s just because I like being around you. You’re fun, and… well, I like you.”

You feel your heart pounding again, and you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or the way he’s looking at you. It’s different from his usual teasing gaze—there’s a sincerity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I…” You struggle to find the right words, but nothing comes out the way you want it to. “I don’t know what to say.”

He smiles, that playful edge returning just a bit. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know how I feel. But… if it’s too much, I’ll back off.”

You shake your head, feeling a mix of emotions too tangled to sort out. “No, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “It’s okay. We don’t have to figure it all out right now, okay?”

You nod slowly, your mind still reeling from everything that’s happened. As he sits there beside you, holding your hand in his, you realize that despite all the teasing and frustration, there’s something undeniably real about the way he’s looking at you now. Maybe, just maybe, this summer heat isn’t the only thing making your heart race.

Gojo’s hand is warm against yours, and the feeling sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. He’s still looking at you with that playful grin, but there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart flutter.

“Sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere.” he says, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “But I couldn’t help it. Seeing you all flustered and cute earlier… I just had to tell you how I feel.”

You glance down at your hands, trying to process everything, but all you can focus on is the way his fingers are interlaced with yours. It’s surprisingly comforting, and you find yourself feeling a little less overwhelmed by the situation.

Gojo leans in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a soft, teasing tone. “You know, you’re even cuter when you’re flustered. I might have to make it my mission to see that expression on your face more often.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, and you instinctively try to pull your hand away, but Gojo holds on gently, his smile widening. “No escaping this time. You’ve caught my attention, okay?  I’m not letting go so easily.”

You huff, trying to sound annoyed, but it comes out more flustered than anything. “You’re such a pain, Gojo.”

“Ah, but I’m your pain, right?” he quips back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I never said that.”

“Well, I’m saying it." he replies, leaning in even closer until you can feel his breath against your cheek. “And I think you secretly like having me around, even if you won’t admit it.”

You’re about to protest, but the words catch in your throat when you see how close he is. His face is only inches from yours, and the playful grin has softened into something more sincere.

“I like being around you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “Even if I drive you crazy sometimes.”

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s something incredibly endearing about seeing Gojo like this—still teasing, but with a softness that makes your heart melt.He pulls back just enough to give you a bit of space, his expression turning thoughtful.

 “You know, I’ve had a lot of people in my life, but no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. It’s different with you… in a good way.”

You blink, taken aback by the honesty in his words. “Really?”

“Really.” he says, his smile warm and genuine. “You’re special to me. And I don’t want to let go of something that feels this right.”

Your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you forget all the teasing and frustration. All you can think about is how sincere he’s being, how much he actually cares.

Gojo must notice your softened expression because he chuckles lightly, his eyes twinkling. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in, but… would you mind if I tried something?”

You tilt your head, curious. “What?”

Instead of answering right away, he reaches out with his free hand, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is featherlight, almost hesitant, as if he’s waiting for your reaction. When you don’t pull away, he smiles softly and leans in closer.

“Just wanted to see if you’d let me do this.” he whispers, and before you can respond, he presses a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You stare at him, wide-eyed and speechless, while he pulls back, looking pleased with himself “There,” he says with a grin. “Now you can’t say I don’t have feelings for you.”

You finally find your voice, though it comes out more like a squeak. “Y-You… Gojo!”

He laughs, not at all fazed by your reaction. “What? Too much? I thought it was pretty sweet.”

You bury your face in your hands, trying to hide the furious blush spreading across your cheeks. “You’re impossible!”

Gojo just chuckles and gently pries your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him again. “I might be impossible, but you’re stuck with me now. So… what do you say? Think you could handle having someone like me around a little more?”

You glance at him, and despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re not going to give me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really.” he admits, his grin turning playful again. “But I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You sigh, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Instead, there’s a warmth spreading through your chest that you can’t ignore. “Fine,” you say, pretending to be reluctant. “But if you keep teasing me like this, I’m going to get back at you.”

Gojo’s eyes light up, and he leans in with a smirk. “Oh, I’m looking forward to that. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

And just like that, the tension melts away, leaving you with a strange sense of contentment. You don’t have everything figured out yet, but with Gojo sitting beside you, still holding your hand, you think maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind figuring it out together.

[momotonescreaming]

Tommy version

It still felt a little novel, being allowed to just walk into Harbour Station.

Without worrying about getting caught, or kicked out, or trying to come up with another excuse to visit again. It felt very over there, out of reach. But now? Buck could park the Jeep and walk straight in, that giddy happiness bubbling up in his chest. He knew exactly where everything was now. All about the different hangars, which helicopter went where, where their lockers and kitchen was.

So when his and Tommy’s shifts didn’t quite align — he could walk straight into Harbour and surprise him.

The first time he did it Buck kind of felt like throwing up a little. He knew he liked Tommy, and Tommy liked him, but he wasn’t sure if this was something that was allowed. If they were quite there yet. He knew Tommy was out to his co-workers, had told them about Buck, but it was different to the 118. Tommy knew all Buck’s co-workers, his friends — so Tommy surprising him at the 118 was no problem at all. He could greet his boyfriend with a hug and kiss, knowing that Chim or Eddie was right behind him ready to crack a joke about how Buck got to see Tommy all the time, it was their turn now. And watch as his boyfriend greeted his best friends, enveloped quickly and warmly into the 118’s hold. Bobby inviting him to sit down and eat with them, no trouble at all.

Buck didn’t know Harbour that well. The only one he really knew apart from Tommy was Lucy, and that was a whole different thing.

So he walked into Harbour with his hands flexing nervously, awkwardly adjusting the bag of lunch he had intended to surprise Tommy with. Heart fluttering in his chest, at the thought of seeing Tommy again — but also at the level of unknown. All he knew about them was what Tommy had told him. And yeah, Tommy had said they were cool — were cool with him — just not on the level of family that the 118 was.

He didn’t have anything to worry about, in the end. Buck walked up to the first person he could see, some tech in a blue jumpsuit that looked familiar to the one Tommy was wearing that day they met. Asked if he knew where Tommy was, gut churning. Anxiety quickly relieved when the guy merely smiled and pointed to a nearby hangar, saying Kinard was in there.

It was different now. As soon as they spotted him making his way across the tarmac — Tommy’s co-workers, those he was closest to — one of them would shout across the Hangar that “Kinard, your man’s here.” 

Loud enough that everyone could hear them.

And Buck would feel that giddy swoop in his stomach again. He wasn’t some stranger, asking techs for directions. They knew him on sight. He wasn’t Buck, some firefighter from the 118. He was Tommy’s man, and his heart swelled at the sound of it.

Watching as his boyfriend appears from behind one of the helicopters, flight suit tied around his waist, crinkly grin on his face. The one that enveloped his whole face, like he just couldn’t hide how happy he was to see him. Buck could greet him with a kiss, arms wrapping around his waist, no longer worried about whether it was something Tommy was cool with in front of his co-workers. He knew Tommy liked it, liked him, even if he got teased to Hell and back for it. Got teased for the hard switch between the serious pilot Kinard, reserved and deadpan —  to a man horrifically down bad for his boyfriend. The happiest they’d ever seen him.

Buck got it, he felt happiest too.

Buck knew where the kitchen was now, the living room area, could head straight there and wait for Tommy to come back from a call if he really wanted to. Could grab his boyfriend’s hand and have lunch with him at work. He kind of did, want to, that is. Stealing away hours of each others time, in and around shifts because they needed to see each other.

He was welcome in Harbour, could have lunch at their tables and could drink coffee out of their ‘LAFD’s link from the streets to the skies’ mugs. The novelty hadn’t died down. The excitement. The honeymoon phase of it all.

How as much as he was inviting Tommy into his life, Tommy was inviting him into his. He tried, he made an effort, he was in this just as much as Buck was. This wasn’t one sided, this wasn’t Buck desperately throwing himself into a relationship that the other person didn’t care as much about. This was Tommy saying he wanted him to meet his co-workers, his friends. That he wanted his worlds to combine. He wanted Buck.

That still felt novel too.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Can I request a Damian Priest x reader fic?, reader thinks Damian is cheating on her with Kayden so she distances herself from him and tries to avoid him. She's been hurt in the past (By ex partner) hence her accusations.

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are more than welcomed!

‼️angst, mention of cheating, feels, ex partners mentioned

odyssey of love

damian loved you. you had no doubt on that. he loved you more than anything, you were his partner, his ride or die, his best friend, his lover. there was no reason for you to doubt of his love for you. and yet, you couldn’t get past that feeling of damian and kayden being constantly together.

they’ve been friends for many years, he knew her before he got to meet you so you weren’t surprised there was a special bond between the two of them.

but having her around all the time was getting tiring. when you were at damian’s place, she was there. you didn’t mind filming their tiktoks, but you minded having her all the time when it was supposed be just you and your boyfriend.

you barely had free time together anymore.

car rides? she took your spot and now you felt like they were dating and you were the friend.

movie nights? she was always there, stealing your spot on the couch, getting more and more comfortable next to damian.

gym? he started training more with her than you, leaving you alone or with rhea sometimes.

your heart didn’t want to think that damian was capable of cheating on you with her, but your mind was playing tricks with you and at this point you were sure he liked her more than you.

rhea noticed how you distanced yourself when you were all out together. at dinner you always took spots near damian but now you didn’t even care, all you wanted to do was disappear.

you thought that after your past relationship, you finally had found peace with damian. he promised you that he would never hurt you, that he would never lie to you. he promised and you believed him. still healing from what your ex boyfriend left you with. trust issues, insecurities and a lot of traumas.

but damian was different, or so you thought.

you knew you had to confront him somehow. you deserved to know if he was cheating on you. you needed to know before you became paranoid. and when he texted you that he would come over at your place with food and drinks, you knew it was now or never.

damian knew that something was wrong the moment you didn’t greet him at the gym two weeks ago. he found it weird, maybe too weird. being used to your bubbly personality, he thought that something was wrong the exact moment you avoided him and kept training with rhea. he tried to have conversations with you for the past days but you always dodged him off.

he was tired of it. he needed to know what was going on. he needed to know if your feelings for him changed. so when he offered to have a take out night at your place, he hoped for you to say yes. and when you agreed, he was more than happy to see his girl.

you were lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear damian opening your front door with the spare keys you gave him once your relationship got serious.

sitting on the couch, you pretended to be lost in whatever show the tv was playing, waiting for damian to make his appearance into your living room.

“hey beautiful” he whispered, not wanting to disturb you as he thought you were interested in the show.

“oh, hey damian…” you made him sit next to you on the couch, helping you set the little table in front of you with all the foods he brought “did you leave any food for other people or did you take it all?” you joked seeing the amount of food he got.

he laughed, missing your sarcastic jokes “i did…i tried to contained myself but i trained all day with kayden and now i’m starving…” he joked, not noticing how your body tensed up at the mention of the young woman.

“we should eat before it gets cold…” you tried to avoid any weird feelings and instead focused on the food since you didn’t have lunch.

“uh uh…i want a hug first…and a kiss from you amor” he smirked. how could you say no? you were down bad for him and that hurt more.

you laughed, accepting him with open arms. you felt his head laying over your shoulder and his lips softly kissing your neck “i missed you so much baby…” he murmured softly, leaving more kisses upon your skin until he reached your face.

for a moment you forgot everything that has been happening and melted when his lips gently touched yours. his hands moved to your hips, as he sat down and took your place on the couch, he led you over his lap. your hands moved behind his neck, bringing him closer to your face “how i missed you baby…” he softly moaned.

you knew you had to stop before that led to something more. he was there for a reason and you wouldn’t have slept peacefully if you didn’t have your answers “baby…we should really eat, i’m starving” you whispered against his lips, making him smile into the kiss.

“fine…but later that night, i’m eating something else” he winked as he let your hips go so you could sit on the couch next to him.

your face blushing. he knew the power he had on you.

as you both ate, he asked you about your day and your week since he didn’t see you much. you’ve explained him what you were up to and when you asked him about his week, the answer he gave you made you sick.

why was kayden everywhere?

“…oh and she made me film probably ten tiktoks just yesterday” he laughed but got serious when he turned to look at you and saw your teary eyes “baby? are you okay?” he got worried.

“damian are you cheating?” you asked. no coming back now.

he was taken aback by your question. he wasn’t cheating so he didn’t know why did you get that idea “mi amor…what?” he turned off the tv so there was nothing distracting you from the conversation you were going to have “por favor, mirame…why would you think that?”

you couldn’t help but let those tears fall “it’s just…you’re always with her…”

“with who amor?”

“with her, kayden…and i feel like i’m not enough for you anymore…” you didn’t mean to sound so weak but even the thought of damian cheating on you was killing you.

“y/n, baby…no, why would you think that?” his voice softened as he helped you sitting between his legs “nothing’s going on between me and her, i promise you…”

“she’s everywhere damian…she took my spot in your car, she took my spot on the couch next to you, she took my spot at dinner…she’s always there to film tiktoks and then making excuses to stay more…she started training with you so i had to train alone everytime rhea wasn’t available…i just need to know if you don’t want me anymore damian…” your voice broken with sobs as more tears fell down “please…i deserve to know…i don’t wanna go through this all over again, not with you…” you broke down crying even more.

damian’s heart broke. he couldn’t believe he was the reason you were crying in his arms. he knew about your ex relationship and he promised you to protect you, to be there for you “hey hermosa…shh…don’t cry baby, it’s okay…” he whispered trying to calm you down. your head was laying on his shoulder while your tears flew into his t-shirt.

he kept whispering soft words to help you calm down and when your breath slowed again, he gently lifted your head up so he could take a good look at you. his hands went to wipe away all the tears that kept falling and he saw it in your eyes that somehow he broke your trust.

“everyone think you’re dating…i see the comments, i see people saying that you broke up with me and they’re happy about it” you spoke up “and if you are dating i need to know, please…don’t go behind my back like this, i can’t handle it again…” damian never heard you sounding so broken and he hated himself for letting this happen.

“listen to me amor…there’s nothing, absolutely nothing between me and kayden…we are just friends and that’s it, i promise you” he sounded so serious and you tried your hardest to believe him but due to all your trust issues, you didn’t know if what he was saying was true or not “i know you’re hurt right now…i understand and and im so fucking sorry…no te imaginas cuanto lo siento” he was trying to gain your trust back but he knew it was hard and he had to work for it “i never meant to make you feel like that, i wished i realised it sooner, i wouldn’t have let this happen, i promise you…”

a tear fell from his eye. he couldn’t stand the idea of losing you. you were everything for him. his first real love, his best friend, his partner in crime. you were his missing piece and he loved you too much to let you go.

“i believe you damian…” you sobbed a little, still trying to slow down your tears “it’s just, i felt so fucking jealous and paranoid this past week. you were constantly with her and everytime i tried to get to you, i felt like i was overstepping…”

he closed his eyes to stop more tears from falling. he was hating himself for all the pain he caused you “i don’t think i’ll ever stop apologising for the pain i caused you…but you have every right to know that there’s nothing between me and her…i don’t wanna lose you, you mean too much for me.”

you saw how vulnerable he was. you saw how he was trying his best not to break down in front of you “you’re not gonna lose me damian…i love you so much…i should have talked with you about this instead of attacking you of cheating, i’m sorry…” you realised that maybe overreacted but now you relieved.

“it’s okay…i should have noticed it sooner, i never meant to ignore you and i promise it will never happen again, te lo juro” he smiled softly and you nodded, letting your head fall on his shoulder as his hands moved gently on your back, trying to release all the pent up stress you had.

you stayed there for a few minutes before you both continued to eat. you spent the night cuddling on your couch and damian stayed true to his promise as he made love to you all night long, showing you that you were the one he wanted.

not her, you.

———————————

por favor mirame = please look at me

no te imaginas cuanto lo siento = you can’t imagine how sorry i am

te lo juro = i promise you

[fratttymatty]

Roots Changed

(All characters are 18+)

Ryan Thornton had always been the quiet, bookish kid. At 18, he was still the same shy, nerdy teenager who spent most of his time buried in science fiction novels, comic books, and the occasional video game. Ryan had come to terms with his place in life: an outsider in high school, an openly gay teen with few friends and even fewer social opportunities. His world was small but comfortable, a safe little bubble in the predominantly white suburb of San Diego where he’d lived his whole life.

But when his mom got a new job and the family moved across the city to a much more diverse, predominantly Latino neighborhood, Ryan didn’t know what to expect. The change was jarring. The new school was like nothing he’d known — crowded, full of energy, and with a culture that felt loud and foreign. The kids here were different, the language they spoke, the way they dressed, the confidence they carried — it was all so much more alive than what Ryan was used to.

In the first few days, Ryan stayed under the radar. He was determined to finish high school without any drama, just getting through the final year before heading to college. But that plan quickly unraveled when a group of the popular kids — the jocks and cheerleaders — took notice of him.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He tried to keep his head down, but he couldn’t ignore the whispers in the halls, the way people looked at him — the way they sized him up. His pale skin, messy blond hair, awkward stance — all of it screamed “outsider.” It didn’t help that Ryan was the only openly gay kid in the school, and he often felt like an alien in the sea of confident, straight students.

One afternoon, during lunch, the inevitable happened. He was sitting alone at a table when Luis, the captain of the football team, and Sofia, the head cheerleader, approached him with their usual entourage. They towered over him, their presence intimidating, but Ryan couldn’t find the words to excuse himself.

Luis looked down at him, a smug grin on his face. “Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

Ryan swallowed hard. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“You don’t really fit in here, huh?” Sofia’s voice wasn’t unkind, but it was sharp. She appraised him like a project. “You’re a little too... quiet for this place. Too nerdy.”

Ryan felt his face flush. He had been used to this kind of thing before, but not quite like this. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wanting to disappear.

Luis smirked. “Well, we can help with that. Make you more... like us.” He exchanged a quick glance with Sofia, who gave a small nod.

“I don’t really—” Ryan began to protest, but before he could finish his sentence, they grabbed him by the arms. He struggled, but the group was too strong. Their laughter was loud and mocking, echoing in his ears as they pulled him away from the lunch table, past the curious eyes of the other students, and out to the school parking lot.

“What the hell is going on?” Ryan managed to say, panic setting in as they shoved him into the back of a van.

“We’re gonna make you one of us, gringo,” Luis said, the edge to his voice unmistakable.

Ryan’s heart pounded as the van started moving. “What are you doing? Let me out of here!” But the more he shouted, the less anyone seemed to care. They ignored him, speaking in rapid Spanish, laughing, joking, as if they’d done this before.

The van came to a stop in a neighborhood unfamiliar to Ryan, and they led him into a house that felt more like a base of operations than a home. An older man with tattoos covering his arms stood waiting for them, his expression serious, as though this was just another job.

“Sit,” the man said, gesturing toward a chair in the middle of the room. “We’ve got work to do.”

Ryan’s heart raced in his chest, but he was powerless to fight back. They tied him down, but it wasn’t painful; it was more like they were preparing him for something. The man — who spoke little — went to work, using strange tools and substances on him, altering his appearance in ways that made Ryan’s head spin. His skin, once pale and freckled, slowly darkened, turning a rich olive tone. His features shifted subtly — his jawline more defined, his nose more pronounced. But it wasn’t just his skin that changed.

The most dramatic transformation happened to his hair. Ryan’s once-messy, light brown curls were smoothed out, darkening into a deep, glossy brown. They styled it into a perfectly straight, sharp middle part. It was perfect, almost too perfect. His hair, which had always been unruly, now lay in neat, controlled waves on either side of his head, framing his face in a way that made him look... different.

When the process was finished, they released him from the chair, and Ryan was led to a mirror. He barely recognized the person staring back at him. The face was familiar, but the features were sharper, darker. His hair — sleek and controlled — was no longer his own. The new, confident posture, the athletic build, the deep brown eyes looking back at him — it was like he was staring at someone else.

Luis stood behind him, clapping him on the back with a grin. “Welcome to the team, hermano,” he said, his voice low and proud.

Ryan — or whatever was left of him — looked at himself in the mirror. The old Ryan Thornton was gone, replaced by someone else. Someone new. Someone who looked like he could be a football player. Someone who looked like he belonged here, in this world.

Luis wasn’t finished. “You’re Mateo Hernandez now. We’re not calling you Ryan anymore. You’re one of us, hermano.”

Mateo Hernandez. The name felt strange at first, foreign even, but when he said it aloud, it felt right, like it had always been his. Mateo felt stronger, more confident. He felt like someone who had a place in the world — a world where people like him didn’t get pushed around, a world where his old self didn’t matter.

Over the next few days, Mateo settled into his new life with surprising ease. His old identity, his old life as Ryan Thornton, began to fade. The change was too thorough. The way he spoke was different now. His accent was smoother, more natural, the slang coming to him effortlessly. His new friends, the jocks, the cheerleaders, they accepted him without hesitation. He was one of them now, and they treated him like family.

It didn’t take long before Mateo found himself walking the halls of his new high school with the same confident swagger as Luis or any of the other jocks. He laughed, joked, and participated in everything — the football games, the parties, the casual flirting with the girls in his classes. It all felt so easy, so right. The old Mateo, the quiet, awkward kid who once spent his days hiding in the library, was gone.

Mateo Hernandez was a high school jock. He was strong, he was popular, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like he was pretending. He was who he was supposed to be.

And as for Ryan Thornton?

Well, Mateo didn’t even remember who that was anymore.

Mateo Hernandez had found his place. And he wouldn’t change it for anything.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Azriel x Reader — Part IX

Summary: Deciding to accept Azriel's offer, Reader's world as they know it is about to change. In more ways than one.

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Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Some suggestions of smut and heavy petting, but nothing too major!

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Azriel stared out of the huge wall-length windows of the River House, watching shadows move in the sunlight that bathed the estate. 

He hadn’t been to bed. 

In the mere hours since he’d left the human realm, leaving Y/N, their conversation and his offer behind…his mind was too crowded to sleep.

So he’d come to the River House, wind still clinging to his skin and clothes from hours of aimlessly flying, and found his family gathering for breakfast.

“Where have you been?” Cassian had asked him.

“Just flying.” Had been Azriel’s explanation. The questioning looks he’d earned in response had told him they all suspected something more was going on with him. 

And how right they were. He didn’t know why he was being cagey, why he couldn’t just be open with them about the human woman who had utterly captivated him—

It was scary, he supposed. To step out of the bubble they had around them, just the two of them.

But if Y/N did agree to come across the Wall with him…it was time to be open, honest.

As if on cue, a kick landed on his shin. Amren. 

“Cassian is supposed to be the absentminded one, shadowsinger,” she drawled. “Are you present?”

Cassian grinned at the jibe. “Someone’s grumpy because she’s hungry. Poor baby.” His eyes slid to Azriel, ignoring Amren’s glare. “Our miniature friend is right, though. What are you daydreaming about?”

Azriel became acutely aware of every present pair of eyes on him. Rhys’s. Feyre’s. Cassian’s and Mor’s, Amren’s and Elain’s. If Nesta had been present, she’d probably have stared, too.

Az cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. Never comfortable with so much attention on him. “There…uh…”

Rhys frowned, realising, at once, that whatever this was held weight. “Az?” he angled his head.

He must have been pale, because Feyre frowned and asked, “Azriel, are you well?”

He didn’t know why he was fumbling this so much. Perhaps because for all he loved his family, for all he’d stared centuries down with them, his feelings were things that he’d always kept tightly locked away, and they had respected that. If he wanted them to know something, they would know. If not, they wouldn’t ask. It was how it had always been.

But this was different.

He was serious about Y/N, and his first step in proving that was to tell those closest to him about her. 

He cleared his throat again, bracing his arms on the table. “There’s something I want you all to know.”

“We all know you have the biggest wingspan, boy,” Amren speared a slice of melon. “It’s hardly breakfast conversation—”

“Amren.” Mor cut her off brusquely. She was staring intently at Az. Could tell this wasn’t the time for jokes. “Go ahead, Az.”

Azriel clenched his fists at his sides. “I…I have fallen for someone,” he swallowed a lump down, far out of his comfort zone. “I’ve fallen in love with someone. A woman. A human woman.”

Silence.

The faces of his family gazed back at him, a mosaic of expressions varying from surprise to confusion to the twitching of baffled amusement. They were waiting for an explanation, or some indication that this was a rare, random joke that Azriel had decided to crack. And Az found that he couldn’t bear them considering that. He squared his shoulders, the severity not moving from his face. 

“Her name his Y/N,” he continued, heart thudding in his chest. “She hails from a village in the human lands, and she’s magnificent. She helps run her father’s inn. She plays piano stunningly…” stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. Facts were just spilling from his lips, dumping themselves on his friends. He clamped his lips shut, squeezing his hands together again. 

And once more, silence. 

Until Cassian peered closely at him and stated, “You’re not joking, are you?”

The shadowsinger shook his head. “No.”

Rhysand’s chair creaked as he sat up straight. “Well…how did you meet this woman?”

“When you sent me to the human lands to get an idea of the unrest there. I heard her playing piano late at night and I…I went back to hear more. And I kept going back, despite you telling me not to. I’m sorry for going against your order, Rhys, but I’m not sorry for the reason that I did.”

The High Lord and Lady shared a glance, clearly communicating mind-to-mind. Az wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were saying. 

Mor cleared her throat, coaxing Az’s eyes to her beautiful face. There was kindness there, warmth. “And you say you love her, Az?”

“I do, Mor. Since I first met her, I’ve fallen harder and harder.” His cheeks burned a furious red. “I can’t deny that that is what I’m feeling. And that’s why I want to share this with you all.” 

The initial shock seemed to dissipate a little as shoulders around the table relaxed. Mor smiled broadly, and Cassian quickly followed. 

“No way,” the Illyrian General chirped. “That’s amazing, Az.”

“We’re happy for you, Az, of course,” Feyre added. “Just a little surprised.”

“You should bring her here to meet us,” Amren grinned, flashing white teeth. “If she can hack it.”

Her remark was as close as she would come to congratulating Azriel — but the sentiment was there, hidden amongst the words. 

Of them all, Elain was the only one who hadn’t spoken.

And Az…Az, for some reason, avoided looking at her. 

“Funny you should say that, Amren,” he quickly said. “I’ve invited her to come here tonight, after she’s closed up the inn. I want her to see Velaris at night, in all its brilliance.”

“So we’ll get to meet her,” Mor grinned wider. “This is great—”

“If—if she’s available to come, that is.” The shadowsinger quickly cut in. 

Because he had to be realistic and still consider the possibility that Y/N would reject his offer. And if that was the case…well, he couldn’t bear to think of it right now. 

He certainly couldn’t bear to share that particular detail with the others. Not just yet. 

“Well,” Rhys offered a smile, “if she is available, we’ll be delighted to meet her, Az. Really.”

“Yes,” Elain’s voice, soft and unconvincing, finally drifted around the table. “We will.” 

At the same moment, Azriel’s gaze drifted to take her in. She looked…shocked. Perhaps a little perturbed. 

But for what reason? She and Lucien were giving things a go. Shouldn’t Azriel be able to do the same?

He tore his eyes away from her, dipping his chin in quiet acknowledgement of her comment. That was all he could offer right then. 

“I hope she comes,” Feyre commented, sipping her drink. Her voice was bright, enthusiastic. 

“So do I,” Azriel agreed. 

Gods, he really did. 

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Ale sloshed over the lip of a tankard, joining the smattering of droplets that were already coating the floor and making it sticky. The rowdy men in your line of sight didn’t seem to notice the mess they were making amidst their rowdiness. They’d been here a good few hours, now. Their eyes had long turned glazed, their speech slurred.

It was all background noise.

Background noise, as you stood behind the bar, staring into space. Time was ticking by, the clock hands crawling steadily closer to when Azriel would arrive and wait for you with hope.

Ten o’clock chimed. Two hours to go. Were you going to join him? You weren’t sure. You’d been contemplating it the entire day, on so few hours sleep. You’d gone through the motions, done your jobs, been that normal, plain young woman who was in charge of The Bluebird Inn. You’d compiled pros and cons in your head, the list of them growing with each thought.

Pros and cons, however, seemed not to come into a situation driven so heavily by desire. 

You wanted to believe Azriel so badly — believe that he was good. Was it so out of the question that such a thing could be the case? It didn’t diminish what you had seen out on the road with your father, but…

But after weeks of no contact, having Azriel close enough to touch last night…it had you hoping, once more, that both things could be true. That the world was not so black and white, and there was colour out there, a world of colour that Azriel could fly you right into—

Before you realised what you were doing, your hand was grasping the bell behind the bar. You tugged at the rope, causing a distinct ringing to cut through the arrogant raucous of the men. 

“Last orders!” you called. 

Every pair of eyes swivelled to blink at you. “What?” One man asked.

“Last orders,” you repeated. 

“But it’s only ten o’clock! You don’t close until midnight!”

It was an effort not to roll your eyes. This group had been here since they’d stumbled in from their day’s work. The idea of cutting their drinking short was inconceivable to them.

But you were going. You were going to join Azriel, and go across the Wall, and experience things you’d never experienced, whether it was a good idea or not.

“I’m closing early tonight,” you gave a shrug. 

The brute that had been spilling ale all over the floor gaped at you. “Why?”

Good question. You couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, and if this was going to get back to your father, you at least needed a valid excuse—

“I’m unwell,” you tried unconvincingly. “Sorry.”

Swine-like eyes narrowed on you. “You don’t look unwell, girl.”

“…It’s my cycle.”

A silent pause. And then, in an instant, every man in the room was on his feet. You tried not to smile in triumph; it worked every time.

They couldn’t leave quick enough, as though, if you truly were on your cycle, it was somehow contagious. You saw the last customer out of the door and bolted it shut. Waited until their chatter disappeared into the distance before you turned and began a frantic cleanup mission. 

This was…mad. Truly, thrillingly mad. A reckoning of sorts, you imagined, because crossing that boundary from one realm into another was like sealing a fate. There was no coming back from this — this, that was not merely dipping your toe into the world of the fae, but submerging yourself in it, taking a deep gulp of air and disappearing beneath its surface. A nerve-wracking prospect, but…also an exciting one.

And didn’t it prove to you that you still trusted Azriel at least a little? You had to, surely, to be so willing to take his hand and let him pull you into the unknown. 

Perhaps…perhaps you were tired of having that little bit of doubt. Tired of wondering what might be out there, beyond your meagre existence. This trip would surely put those doubts to bed, one way or another. 

Two hours until Azriel’s arrival seemed both too much time and not enough at all. You filled it with your usual closing duties, making quick work of tidying up and making sure the inn was spotless. Afterwards, you would ordinarily spend some time at the piano, or simply retire to bed. Tonight, your feet carried you upstairs to get ready. 

You combed your hair and changed your outfit choice too many times, not once recognising the girl who stared back at you in the mirror. She was somebody bold and daring — somebody willing to question what she’d always known. 

And you wanted to be her, no matter the fears twisting your stomach. 

Once ready, there wasn’t much time left to wait. You quelled your nerves by knocking back a glass of whiskey and welcoming the burn. Your eyes stayed on the clock. Eleven-thirty. Thirty-five. Forty. Fifty-five. 

When you heard the distant chimes of the village clock announcing midnight, you felt that familiar sensation of awareness. Like an ember under your skin, it burned, and it spread. 

You wiped whiskey from your lips and slipped out of the door, stepping into the courtyard. You were cold, despite the warm night. 

And even colder when you felt the gust of air that came from a descending figure, landing feather-light in front of you. 

Azriel was almost too beautiful to bear. 

You stared at him with an intensity you couldn’t keep a lid on. And he stared back at you, took in your shirt and breeches, your braided back hair, your shoes. He clocked within a second that you were dressed to go out — a breath of relief forced its way out of him. 

“You’re coming?” he breathed, and then shook his head, seeming to remember his manners. “Sorry. Hello.”

You swallowed. “Hello.”

He paused. Dared a step closer. “I half expected to find you in your nightgown. Or to not see you at all.”

“I…contemplated it. Not coming, I mean.”

Another step. “And what tipped the scales in my favour?”

You sucked in a breath, inhaling his scent. He was close enough to touch, now, and the smell of wind mixed with his natural aroma, creating a dizzying concoction that, for a moment, had you forgetting how to speak. 

You shook yourself out of it, blinking a few times. “I think I’m tired. Tired of…only knowing what I’ve been told. I think it’s time I saw things for myself.”

Azriel’s broad shoulders seemed to relax a little. A beat passed of heavy silence, heavy eye contact. He stared at you like you were the only person left in the entire world. 

And then you jolted just a little, as cold, scarred fingers touched yours in a light, tentative brush. He waited to see if you would pull away. 

You didn’t. 

Those fingers explored more. Wrapped around yours. Laced with yours. And then Azriel was holding your hand in his. 

“Let me share my world with you,” he whispered.

Maybe it was the weight of his hand, or maybe the raw pleading in his tone. Whatever it was…you knew you didn’t need any more time to consider. 

“Yes.” Was all you managed to respond. “Yes.”

Just like that, Azriel was yanking you closer, pulling your body flush to his. You waited to feel your feet leave the ground, for him to lift you into the air. 

It took you a moment to register that his arms were winding around you tightly in an embrace. That it was a hug he’d so fiercely pulled you into. 

He held you, both firmly and gently, his chin pressed to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. You were stunned, stiff as a statue — but then you were sinking into his hold and welcoming its security, its…passion.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am,” Azriel murmured, pulling back to gaze at you. “Truly — thank you. For trusting me with this.”

“I haven’t made any decisions yet,” you pointed out. “I just want to see for myself…if what you’re saying is true.”

But even as you spoke, you knew it wasn’t that simple. Heading across the Wall with Azriel was sealing a fate far bigger than you’d stopped to consider. Whether you were ready for it was anyone’s guess.

The shadowsinger took your words in his stride, nodding. His hand found yours again. “Shall we go?”

You were really doing this. The idea made your head spin. 

But you did not pull away. You did not run back inside, no matter how much a tiny part of you screamed at you to do so. Perhaps you were stronger than that now. 

“Yes,” you nodded, and braced yourself. “We shall.”

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Flying was precisely as you remembered — exhilarating and terrifying and cold. The night sky eddied past you in a star-streaked blur, and you were soaring, hurtling forwards towards a world unknown. 

You and Azriel did not speak. He seemed content to leave you in your thoughts, though you felt his gaze on you more than once, drinking you in. You couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. Whether he deliberately chose to press you firmly against him and rub soothing circles into the small of your back, or whether it was a subconscious thing. 

You closed your eyes at one point, focusing on the feeling of the chilled wind on your face. 

But it was another feeling that had you suddenly alert. Opening your eyes again. 

It was hard to explain, but…something like a staticky charge crackled and sparked. You knew that the Wall was not a physical thing to behold, but rather an invisible barrier…yet somehow, you knew that was what you were feeling. Like a huge sign in bold, screaming at you: TURN BACK. DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER.

“I can feel it, too,” Azriel spoke into your ear, as though he’d read your thoughts. It was the first words that had left him since he’d carried you to the skies, and they were soothing and warm against you. “It’s the magic. Those who built the Wall abhorred the idea of humans and fae alike crossing over. I think the feeling it offsets is supposed to repel people.”

You held onto him a little tighter as the feeling grew stronger. “Clearly it doesn’t work.”

“No.” His eyes found yours. “Not when there are such enticing reasons to cross.”

You were thankful that the wind put a stop to the furious blush that crept up your neck. You stared forward, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you, and you knew that you were about delve into another realm. 

“Ready?” he murmured, before that charge thrust its way through your body like a bolt of lightning. 

It was brief and yet nauseating. Your stomach lurched, your head spinning. And then, as if clearing fog, it was gone. You had the distinct feeling of being someplace completely alien — a place where the grass was greener, the scents richer. A place where magic was the blood in its veins, snaking through the ground beneath you and breathing vibrant life into the land. 

But you had barely a chance to take in your surroundings before Azriel was coaxing your eyes back to him. 

“Now that we’re in Prythian,” he said, seeming to visibly relax, “I’ll winnow us from here.”

You gave the briefest glance to your surroundings — a forest so like the many in the human realm, and yet also something more. The thrum of dangerous life seemed to lurk just beneath its surface, and with the moon bearing down on you, you didn’t much like the idea of waiting around to see what might emerge from the dark. You dipped your head into a nod, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you. 

But before he could make a move, you were speaking, stopping him in his tracks. “There’s something I don’t understand.”

He paused, head angling curiously. It made a few dark hairs slide across his forehead, and the urge to reach out and touch the silken strands was a burning one. 

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You want to show me your home, but why show me at night time, when the world is asleep?” Besides the fact that this was the only time you could sneak away from the prying eyes of villagers.

But Azriel’s mouth seemed to lift into a subtle, beautiful smile. One that was telling — but telling of what?

“Velaris does not sleep,” he said, and then you were disappearing into starlight.

A brief burst of darkness that lurched you from place to another. The feeling of both flying and falling, of being nowhere and everywhere all at once. And then your feet were suddenly on solid ground. 

You didn’t realise you’d closed your eyes until the sounds hit you first. Distant music, mingled with crisp laughter. The sounds of enjoyment, fulfilment. You snapped your gaze open to put a picture to what you were hearing. 

You went so preternaturally still, you could almost be mistaken as fae. 

You must have been perched upon a viewpoint, to see the city in its entirety like this — but not too far up to miss the details. Restaurants teeming with activity both inside and out front, gatherings of customers who talked and smiled and laughed without a care in the world. Vendors selling their wares despite the late hour, peddling anything from food to wooden carvings to flowers. People wrapped in each other’s arms and dancing merrily to a song that a young female strummed on a lute in the busy street. 

If not for the dark blanket of stars above your head, you could be forgiven for thinking it was daytime. Your shoddy little village was never this bright nor light, no matter the hour on the clock.

This was Velaris, and it truly did not sleep.

You stared and stared and stared, for so long that your vision began to blur and smear the lights below into swirling shapes. It was almost easy to forget you were alone, just you observing this beautiful, seemingly perfect world. But a hand touched your arm.

“Would you like to take a walk?” Azriel asked, coaxing you to look at him.

Such palpable hope sat within his gaze that you couldn’t bear to look away. And when you nodded your agreement, that hope shifted into damn near elation.

The city seemed to welcome you into its arms as you began a slow stroll right through the heart of it. Azriel gave you your space, always remaining a few paces away. You could have sworn, in your periphery, that you caught him clenching his hands now and then, as though he didn’t know what to do with them. As though all he wanted was to reach out to you.

But he left you to acquaint yourself with the sights and sounds and sensations of Velaris. Never had you been amongst so many fae, and you half expected them to sniff out your mortality, to turn and stare or even make a grab for you. If they noticed you were not one of them, they paid it no mind, barely casting you a glance. Some of them greeted Azriel cheerily as they made merry and socialised. Not a drop of misery seemed to taint the blood of this living, pulsing place. 

You came to a stop on a grand bridge that arched over a glinting river, its waters stretching further out than your human vision could comprehend. Only a moment after you leaned against the carved balustrade, Azriel was emerging in your peripheral vision, stopping beside you and mirroring your stance. 

You could feel his gaze on you. And after a moment, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

A slow, stunned shake of your head was all you could manage. That was a question that had many different answers. You weren’t sure which one to give. 

But you found yourself turning to him, your brow pinched, lips parted. “I don’t understand how any of this works. What…what is this place?”

Velaris, obviously — you knew that much. But was the entire fae realm like this? Was this what had been hiding on the other side of the Wall in the centuries since it was established?

Azriel seemed to think on your question for a moment, combing through his answer. He angled his body towards yours, the way his hands twisted around each other hinting that he was…nervous.

“When I took you flying the first time, I mentioned that Prythian is divided into seven courts,” he explained slowly. “Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day and Night. Do you remember what else I told you?”

How could you forget? You’d turned it over in your mind enough that the words had begun to fray at the seams. 

“You said you’re from the Night Court. That you’re part of the High Lord’s inner circle. You’re his spymaster.” Your gaze swept around. “So this is the Night Court.”

Azriel dipped his chin. “It is. But it’s a city in the Night Court. A secret, guarded city. There’s more out there than just this.”

“Secret and guarded? Why?”

For a moment, silence stretched between you that felt as long as the winding bridge. You found yourself focusing on the ebb and flow of the water beneath you, watching its languid dance. Until warm fingers landed on your arm.

The touch — tentative and gentle — coaxed your gaze back to Azriel. You studied him, drank in the sincerity and openness on his face. This was hard for him, you realised — to be so forward, to bare all. He was, perhaps, as guarded and secretive as this city itself. Perhaps more. 

But his soft hazel eyes told you that he wanted to push through that difficulty. For you.

“It’s secret and guarded,” he answered huskily, “because it is beautiful and good, and the entirety of the Night Court is not. The entirety of Prythian is not. There are other places like this, of vibrancy and love and light, and then there are places of pure, evil darkness. Places that I would never dream of you venturing. They exist as truly as the good places do. As Velaris does.”

Once again, your eyes took in the area around you. On the other side of the bridge, a couple were hunched over a table, in their own world, sharing quiet words and quick kisses. A few buildings down, a group of friends roared with laughter as they spilled out of the door, arms around each other and happiness on their faces.

This place was beautiful. It was…life. 

And the existence of darker places did not change that, did not steal its essence. Good and bad both simply existed. In people, and in places. 

Just like in the human lands. 

Just like Azriel had been trying to tell you all along. 

“There’s good and bad everywhere…” you murmured quietly, the words sinking in, hitting home. How could you deny it when the people here clearly were not scared, not running and screaming and begging for their lives?

There was movement, and you felt Azriel’s side press against yours. “There is.”

And you could see it now, like a fog had been lifted. But there was still one pressing question that plagued you. One you couldn’t tamp down on as you angled yourself towards Azriel proper.

“Why bother, though?” you asked, studying him. “Why go to these lengths to prove this to me? You don’t owe me anything. Why…why would you bother taking the time to make me see this?”

Azriel gazed back at you, something burning in his eyes. He pursed his lips, like he was trying to force his words back down, trying to stop them spilling out. 

A fight he ultimately lost. 

“Because I am selfish,” he said, staring at you fiercely. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to see you anymore. Of you thinking I’m a monster. I would not care if anyone else were to think so, but…”

“…but what?”

“But not my Bluebird.” His voice was raw, raspy. He reached out cautiously, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not my Blue.”

A breath shuddered out of you, and with it went your resolve. You knew you could no longer fight what been pressing you for a while, now. Could no longer deny what was right in front of you. 

You cleared your throat, feeling the shivers that pulsed through your skin with Azriel’s hand still hovering so close to it. So badly, you wanted to lean into it. But you forced your gaze back to the brilliant city of Velaris. 

“Life seems so lovely here,” you admitted, your voice surprisingly hoarse. 

“It is,” Azriel concurred. “It really is. And you, Y/N…you deserve loveliness.”

You stared fiercely at the water, begging yourself not to get choked up. You’d never had loveliness. 

A warm, comforting hand pressed against the small of your back. You shamelessly allowed it to. 

“Would you like to meet my family?” the shadowsinger asked.

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You were going to be sick — and not from the flying.

Your feet touched down on a beautiful, ornate estate — grass trimmed and decorated with fountains, ornaments, decorative hedges. Trees and obscure plants and beautiful flowers. Never had you been anywhere so grand. 

And before you — a huge, stunning house of pillars, winding staircases, giant windows and just…pure opulence. It intimidated you just to look at. 

“This is…this is where they live? Your…High Lord and High Lady?” The words felt foreign on your tongue. 

“It is.” As Azriel stepped up to your side, you realised his arm was still wrapped around you. “Did I ever tell you she used to be human — my High Lady?”

Your gaze shot to him in a flash. “What? How is that possible?”

“It’s a long, elaborate story that I’ll allow her to tell you, when she feels like it. But it’s true — she and her two sisters were once human, and they were all turned fae.” 

A thought that set your heart thudding at a gallop. Had they once been lowly village girls, like you were? You hadn’t considered that you might have anything in common with these people.

“Shall we?” Azriel’s arm tightened around you, and you welcomed it. You needed the grounding comfort.

With a deep breath and a nod, you allowed yourself to be led up the broad stone steps that trailed up to the mammoth front entrance. You followed Azriel’s lead, wide-eyed as he opened the front door like it was his home, also, and led you inside. 

The interior was, unsurprisingly, as decadent as the exterior, but you found yourself too nervous to take in any details beyond polished marble flooring and huge, painted portraits that hung on the wall of beautiful beings. You did, however, stop to take in the portrait that was undoubtedly Azriel. 

“Feyre — our High Lady — is an artist.” Azriel stopped beside you. “She painted all of these.”

“And a damn excellent artist, too.” Behind you, a voice of pure, cloaked night echoed through the giant room. It added with a hint of glimmering humour, “Not that I’m biased, of course.”

You turned at once, knowing that such a voice could never come from a human. Your heart almost stopped at the sight of the male who leaned against a carved arch, and you blushed furiously at the thought that he could probably hear such a thing. 

He certainly resembled Azriel, in his golden skin and dark hair. But his eyes were of a stark, peculiar shade — violet — and his ears very much pointed. Something about the smug ease with which he stood screamed at you that this — this was the High Lord of the Night Court, looking regal in a black button-up shirt and dark trousers. 

And beside him, a woman — female — of such otherworldly beauty, it was hard to imagine that her golden-brown hair and blue eyes had ever been dulled by mortality. 

“He is biased,” she said with a soft smile, fondness in her eyes. She drank in the sight of you, and there was no judgement, no disapproval — just simple curiosity. “Y/N. Welcome to our home.” 

“This is Rhysand and Feyre,” Azriel explained beside you. “High Lord and High Lady.”

“Rhysand?” The High Lord echoed jovially. “You sound like Feyre when she tells me off. Just Rhys will do,” he sketched you a flourishing bow, “and as my beautiful mate said — welcome to our home.”

“I…I’m afraid I don’t know the customs, where greeting a High Lord or Lady is concerned,” you cleared your throat. “But thank you for having me.”

Feyre smiled warmly. “You’re very welcome. Shall we get a drink? The others are waiting.”

Your stomach turned with nerves, but you nodded. As Azriel stepped forward, falling into stride with Rhysand, Feyre stayed behind, turning to you. 

“It’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” she smiled at you gently. “I had already been turned fae when I first came here, but…I can’t imagine coming here as a human who’s never had much to do with our kind.”

Our kind. Clearly her mortal roots were but a distant memory. 

“It is,” you agreed. “This is…hugely out of my comfort zone.”

“Just stick with me, Y/N. But you have nothing to worry about.” Her smile grew. “We’re all just happy that Azriel has found someone. Even Elain.”

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Even Elain. What the hell did that even mean?

It stuck in your mind as you held yourself through introductions, your curiosity such that you were waiting for an Elain to be introduced to. But through the names that were thrown at you — Cassian, Amren, Morrigan, Nesta — that one did not come up. 

The tiny Amren was terrifying despite her small stature, and yet you found her quick wit and remarks to be personable. Morrigan — Mor — had invited you to sit with her the second the introductions were over, and she seemed almost…excited by your presence. Cassian was jovial, warm, quickly making it clear that he would joke and banter with you as much as he would with his family. 

Ironic, then, that the least forthcoming with any warmth was Nesta — who surely could relate to your humanity, even if her own was long gone. 

She’d barely spoken to you beyond a terse greeting. And since then, she’d stared you down from the other end of the table. You couldn’t help noticing that her eyes continuously darted to the round edges of your ears. You couldn’t read the ferocity in her gaze.

It was an effort to ignore it as conversation bloomed around the table.

“So he was just hovering above your inn like a little creep?” Cassian’s broad grin was savage, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he plied you with questions. “You should have shot him down with an arrow. Taught him a lesson.”

Your lips twitched as you answered, “Somebody else saw to that. I just ended up helping him.”

“Boo.” The Illyrian warrior snorted. “How boring.”

Beside you, Azriel rolled his eyes, but a soft smile played on his lips that told you he rather enjoyed the teasing. You couldn’t help relaxing at the…normality of it all. How easy and light and warm this conversation was.

How naive you had been, to assume that the fae were simply cold, severe beings. The furthest thing from this loving family unit. It didn’t even seem to be a bizarre circumstance to them, that they had been gathered to meet at such a late hour. If not for the huge windows letting the night sky in, you’d be forgiven for thinking that their energy and enthusiasm was indicative of day time.

“From which village do you hail, Y/N?” Feyre asked you, sipping from her wine. You’d tried not to stare too long at the casual intimacy between the High Lord and Lady — the little touches you so naturally wanted to mimic with the male beside you. She added, “Perhaps Nesta and I would have heard of it.”

At that, Nesta lifted her chin a little. You could have sworn a glimmer of curiosity streaked through her eyes, there and gone in an instant.

“Northern Swancross.” You answered, eyes darting around the opulent dining room. “It isn’t anything grand. “Most of its residents are living in poverty.”

Feyre sipped her drink, offering an understanding nod. “Perhaps too far north for us. I don’t recognise the name—”

“I do,” Nesta said sharply — the first time she’d really spoken to you. “I remember reading a pamphlet once, about fae attacks on human villages. Northern Swancross was named in regards to an attack there a couple of decades ago.”

Silence and stillness filled the space that conversation had lit up moments before. Your mouth went dry. You felt the cool touch of a shadow caressing your arm.

“That would have been my mother,” you answered, clearing your throat. 

Nesta stared at you a long moment, a slither of what seemed to be…solidarity…seeping through the cracks of her icy reception. She lowered her chin in the slightest of dips, and somehow, you knew exactly what that minute gesture communicated. We have both suffered at the hands of the fae. And yet, somehow, here we both are.

“That’s awful,” Rhysand’s voice cut through the moment, quiet and laced with sympathy. “I’m sorry for the loss of your mother. We all are.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“Nesta, Elain and I also lost our mother,” Feyre supplied. “To illness, rather than to the fae. But we understand what the loss of a parent is like. Many of us here do.”

A kind and heartbreaking sentiment, and yet all you could focus on was the mention of that name again. Elain. She must have been the third sister. 

You didn’t know why you felt such preying curiosity about her standing in this group…or her standing with Azriel, and why her support for his happiness was a thing Feyre felt was worth mentioning. You couldn’t stop yourself wondering if her absence was a deliberate thing. 

As if she’d read that thought, Feyre cleared her throat. “You’ll have to forgive Elain’s absence. She’s not much of a night owl.”

“Despite living in the Night Court,” Cassian added, and his booming chuckle at once chased away the tension that had seeped into the room. He grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled his glass. “So tell us more about you, Y/N.”

You did exactly that — and found yourself peculiarly willing to do so. Such a sheltered life you’d lived with no one to truly call a friend, that it now seemed that years of pent-up conversation came flooding out of you. And as hours ticked by, pedalling closer towards morning, you found yourself relaxing, forgetting that you were human and they were fae. They were just…people. Kind, good people. 

And in turn for the information you shared with them, they told you about themselves, answered your questions, explained things you didn’t understand. Mor spoke to you like she’d known you for years rather than minutes. Even Nesta’s reservedness began to thin into something more cordial. One-by-one, the High Lord’s Inner Circle pulled you into its fold as if a place for you had been carved there for a very long time. 

They did not balk — not even a little — at the idea of you being of worth in Azriel’s life. 

Azriel himself was largely quiet throughout the night. He seemed to take a backseat and allow you to navigate this situation as you saw fit, only interjecting with comments and responses every now and then. But at your side, he remained a solid, steadfast presence, his shadows a thing of comfort. And the urge to lean against him as the night wore on was a pressing, growing one. 

You didn’t want to resist anymore. Didn’t want to take a step backwards. You’d seen what he’d wanted to show you, and there were no more weak excuses you could come up with as to why your involvement with Azriel was a bad idea.

You wanted him…and you were done denying yourself him. 

It was only when the night drew to a close that you began to feel the tiredness waiting on the edges of your mind. Nesta was the first to leave, and soon after that, everyone else was standing and saying their goodbyes. 

“You’ll come back soon?” Feyre asked you, her hands squeezing yours. She seemed genuinely thrilled that Azriel had brought you here. 

You glanced at the shadowsinger beside you, a smile playing on your lips. “If he’s willing to bring me.”

A soft, low chuckle sounded in Azriel’s chest. But there was nothing comical about the way he promised, “Whenever you want.”

Bidding the High Lord and Lady goodnight, you descended the front steps with a lightness that you hadn’t felt upon arrival. Tonight had been…easy. Simple. There was nothing more to it than merely getting to know Azriel’s friends. Getting to know Azriel’s world.

And when the doors closed behind you, it was just you and him alone, for the first time in hours. 

He strolled at your side, back through the opulent front garden. Neither of you seemed to know who would speak first.

Until you turned to him and said, “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Az stared back at you, pausing for the slightest of moments. “To the River House?”

“And to Velaris. To…to Prythian.” You, too, paused. “To the truth, I suppose.”

His chin dipped just slightly. “You deserve the truth.”

A few paces forward, you walked in silence. It wasn’t until you were under the canopy of a huge, overhanging tree that you pressed your back against the trunk and allowed yourself to stare at him. Properly stare at him. To take in his beauty.

He stopped a few steps away, asking, “What?”

So many things you wanted to say. I’m done fighting this. I’m done fighting us. I want to dive further into this world with you. I want you, Azriel, whatever the hell that means for me—

“Who is Elain?” The words spilled, unplanned and undignified, from your lips. Your eyes shuttered for a moment as you regained your composure. “I mean…I know who she is. I know she’s Feyre’s and Nesta’s sister. I just mean…who is she…to you?”

Azriel was still for a moment, his brow pinching slightly. He took a step closer. “She’s…a friend.”

“…just a friend?”

“I…I won’t deny that I wondered, at one time, if she might be more than that.” His scent hit you as he continued to step closer. “But she has a mate. And I wondered that before…before I met you.”

The bark of the tree bit into your back as you held yourself firmly, grounding yourself in the moment. You inhaled a small breath, trying to ignore the dizziness that his general proximity seemed to provoke. But as he stepped closer still, now mere inches from you, you knew you were fighting a losing battle. 

Still, you lifted your chin and stared up at him. Stared, as he closed the gap between your two bodies and pressed you further against that tree, his body seeming to line perfectly with yours despite your height difference. His breath tickled your neck as he leaned into your ear. 

“Were you worried about that, Blue?” he asked huskily, a smile in his voice. 

You couldn’t control the way your breath hitched in your throat. Lie, save face, deny it, your mind screamed at you. You weren’t sure you currently had the mental capacity to do so. 

“You said you’ve had lovers,” you rasped back. “I was just wondering if, perchance, Elain had been one of them.”

A mix of both relief and disappointment filled you as Azriel pulled back — not far, but simply enough to stare sincerely into your eyes. His face was open and soft, despite the teasing that had been in his tone. 

“No.” His tone was a promise. “Elain has never been my lover. I don’t…I don’t want you to worry about that. About her.”

Your shoulders relaxed just slightly. But as your gaze began to lower from his, his hand was suddenly at your face, cupping your jaw, holding your attention firmly on him. 

“It’s been a long, heavy night for you,” he murmured, studying you closely. “I want you to tell me honestly how you’re feeling.”

Perhaps the most loaded question he could have asked. You swallowed, slowly shaking your head. “I…I’m feeling lots of things. Relief…that what you told me about this place was true. Shame…that I was obstinate in my ignorance—”

“You do not need to feel one bit of shame. There are always two sides of the coin—”

“And fear. I feel scared.”

Your words lingered between the two of you, truthful and unwavering. They were out in the open, now. You found yourself not wanting to keep them to yourself.

“I feel scared,” you repeated, “because I have nothing to hide behind, now. I can’t run and deny what I feel. You’ve shown me the truth, and I…I can no longer deny my own.”

His hand still cupping your face, Azriel brushed his thumb over your cheek. His eyes remained fully trained on you, not willing to look away for a second.

“There is no going back from this night,” you whispered, staring back at him. “And I’m glad about that. But I’m also so scared.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel scared. Not with me.” His hushed words, spoken quietly for your ears only, landed on your lips. “I just want to make you happy, Blue.”

It took a moment for you to realise that the soft noise that sounded — a small cry of both relief and need — came from you. You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You were done with resisting. 

Your hand cupped the back of Azriel’s head, and you pulled it down, slanting your mouth over his. At once, he hummed against your lips and moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer against him. 

This was everything. Azriel was everything. He just wanted to make you happy, and you wanted to make him happy, too. He was not fae or a shadowsinger or a huge, imposing figure with wings. He was just Azriel. Your Azriel. Your salvation. 

The male you were so, so glad to have been proved wrong about. The male you were falling in love with. 

Your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips, and he parted them for you, allowing you to dip inside. At once, his taste mingled with yours, and you moaned softly, your hands grasping at him, wanting to feel him against you as you kissed him harder, fiercer. 

And he kissed you back just as ferociously. You may have been inexperienced, but you knew the taste of desire on his tongue, and you knew exactly what you were feeling when he hardened against you, his arms banded around you. 

“Blue,” he broke away, panting. His eyes were glazed as he stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. “We’re getting carried away. Tell me what you want. I need to know what you want.”

Him. All of him. Every single inch of him.

Your eyes trailed down to the hardness that was unmistakably outlined through his leathers. Such stark hunger bolted through you that it sent shivers coursing down your spine. Had wetness pooling between your legs. 

And from the way Azriel’s nostrils flared, and a deep, guttural noise vibrated in his chest, you could only guess that he’d scented it. 

You pushed up onto your toes, brushing another kiss to your mouth. A light one that he seemed ready to get lost in, before you were pulling away, your eyes clashing with his again.

“I want you to take me back to my home,” you told him breathlessly, your fingers biting into his leathers. “And I want you to stay.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Not one bit of the journey was memorable. Not the flight back to the Wall, or that brief flash of darkness as you were winnowed from there, right back into the taproom at the Bluebird Inn.

Your only focus was on Azriel. The feel of his body pressed against yours, and how…how it would feel even better when you both rid yourself of clothing.

And gods, you were nervous. But you could feel in your very bones — you were ready.

This night had, indeed, been a reckoning. This night had, indeed, changed things forever, and made you realise that you had no good reason to deny yourself of the brilliant fae male who consumed your every thought.

You trusted Azriel. You wanted Azriel.

And when both your feet and his touched the wooden flooring of the inn, your eyes clashed only momentarily with his before you were pulling his face down to kiss you. And kiss you, he did. 

It was hot and greedy and desperate, a kiss that could wait no longer. He made a low noise against your mouth, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards and pressed you against the bar. It was tongue and touching and too many clothes, and you were done waiting, done thinking, as you dragged a trembling hand down the firm feel of his leathers, down and down until you were cautiously folding your palm over the bulge in his pants. 

You had no idea what exactly you were doing, but the way Azriel gasped against your lips seemed to be a positive reaction. One that only spurred you on further. 

Even without properly seeing him, you could tell he was huge. Your hand barely fit over what pressed through his breeches. You explored the length of him, wishing that clothes weren’t in the way. That it was just skin on skin. 

Azriel let out a choked moan — one that seemed pleasurable. Until he pulled away.

“Wait, Blue,” he panted, staring down at you. “Just…tell me you’re sure.”

You had gone past sure. Sure wasn’t a strong enough word. Sure was nothing against the certainty that roared in your veins.

“I am,” you promised, applying pressure with your hand. “Show me…show me what to do, Azriel.”

It was a pure, animalistic growl that broke from him then, and in one swift movement, he was lifting you up and carrying you over to the bar, perching you atop and slotting himself between your legs. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he kissed you. Kissed you again. Kissed you harder. “I promise, my bluebird.”

“Please,” you begged softly, grasping at his leathers. “I want you.”

Kisses deepened, turned more ferocious. Hands wandered, began roaming, exploring. You felt the cautious touch of a hand gliding over your breast, warm fingers permeating your shirt. You gasped, arching into the touch. 

Perhaps that was why you didn’t hear it. Perhaps you were so distracted, so hungry for the male before you, that the quiet footsteps that approached were heard by neither of you. Not even by Azriel’s fae senses, his shadows. 

No, you were both oblivious until a cold, stern voice filled the room. 

“Y/N?” Devin stood against the doorframe, not taking his eyes off Azriel’s giant form. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

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bluebird tags: @kennedy-brooke @rosessndri @anae-naea-zacheria @iambored24601 @sirenpearldust @v3lv3tf0x @lupinswolfsbanes @alohaangels @feyretopia @janebirkln @a-dizzle777 @moonbirde @natashachelsea @navyblue-eternity @multi-reader @sfhsgrad-blog @makemeurvillain @lyinginameadow @101crows @bsenpai @honeyandhalfmoons @florencemtrash @ssmay123 @historygeekqueen @mika-no-sekai-blog @ktsskgzxlu @basicbittywitty @mybestfriendmademe @cali-flow3r @lalachat @honeybeeboobaa @azrielsbbg @eatinggummybearsisacrime @ilovemangomorethanu @rhysandorian @coralseacourt @berryzxx @pequeno-atlas @secretlyhers @grimoiregrl @just-jess-losers @happywolves81 @anama-cara @spideytingley @raccooninurwalls @despoinasstuff @ntimacy @brekkershadowsinger @ariaaira @lesehexe @aunicornmademedoit @fauxdette @moonlight-kr @sekiro1310 @fightmedraco @astarlitsoul @quinzzelx

[tikosblogg]

Okay but like….Best friend Noah, becoming all possessive over you, when a random dude stares at you a little too hard 😩❤️

Part Two Here

I was sat up on the kitchen counter, resting my head against the cabinets behind me, tucked into the corner. Noah stood to the side of me, leaning back against the counter top as a handful of friends stood in a relaxed half-circle around us, talking and sharing jokes. It felt intimate and safe, a little bubble of joy amidst the crowd of twirling bodies and laughter drifting through the open windows.

Jesse, with his animated expressions and hand gestures, had snagged everyone's attention with a story from an old touring mishap—something about a raccoon and a dumpster fire.

A gaze was fixed on me, unsettling in its intensity. At first, I glanced around, thinking it was just my imagination, but a quick sweep of the room brought my eyes to a guy I barely knew, standing awkwardly at the edge of the group. His attention was locked on my thighs, an unsettling hunger in his gaze, and my heart thudded with discomfort. I instinctively glanced down and realized my dress had ridden up more than I intended, revealing more skin than it was supposed to.

While keeping my composure, I shifted to adjust the fabric, tugging it down, but my mind began racing. Jesse’s story faded into a murmur as the weight of that stare pressed down on me. My pulse quickened, and in a moment of anxious fidgeting, I considered climbing off the counter entirely, but I didn't want to cause a scene or draw more attention.

I looked over to Noah to give some lame made up excuse to leave the group, until my words died in my throat. I noticed his eyes set in a hard stare to my left. The look on his face was serious, his stare cold. I slowly turned my head in the direction he was staring, to see him eyeing the guy, that was still currently, burning holes through my thighs. Noah suddenly stepping into the guys line of vision.

He moved in front of me, positioning himself between my thighs, his back facing me like a shield. The warmth of his body radiated towards me, and I felt an immediate sense of relief washing over me.

Noah leaned back, slightly into me my chest softly grazing his back, and turned to shoot the guy another cold, piercing stare that spoke volumes. My body shuddered at the sudden possessiveness Noah displayed toward me. His voice suddenly filled the air, making everyone around go silent. “Got a problem?” His voice was calm, but held an eerie edge to it.

Without a word, the guy took a step back, eyes wide, and then another step, shaking his head quickly retreating from the kitchen entirely. I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding, my shoulders finally relaxing as I leaned my forehead against Noah’s back in whispering a “thanks.” The tension slowly slipping away.

He turned his head slightly over his shoulder, revealing a small, reassuring smile. "No problem, sweetheart." he said, his voice steady and low. It sent a jolt of warmth through me, weaving a complicated mix of emotions in my chest. I knew Noah had my back, always—yet this was different. There was a possessiveness in that simple act, a reminder that I wasn't just a friend to him; I was treasured.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, glancing up at him with a sheepish grin, feeling the rush of camaraderie morphing into something deeper. As Jesse resumed his tale, I found myself fully in the moment again, but with a newfound warmth that lingered just a little stronger than before..

Instead of moving back to his spot next to me, Noah relaxed deeper into me, his back completely pressing against my chest. A delightful heat spread through me, igniting each nerve ending with that rush of adrenaline. I couldn’t help but feel a tingle of excitement at having him so close.

I knew it was wrong. To think of my best friend this way, the one I sought solace in during rough patches, the one who many people saw as just a bestie and nothing more. I shouldn’t be feeling this way about him. But as he laughed with the others, my heart raced at the thought that maybe I wasn’t the only one who felt the tension between us.

My thighs unconsciously tensed around his hips as I tried to ground myself against this newfound sensation—the thrill of intimacy wrapped up in friendship. He must have felt it too, because his laughter stuttered for a split second as his hand reached back. Slowly, reverently, his large hand slid down the side of my thigh, making me shiver from the touch. His fingers were warm, gentle, but there was an underlying strength in his hold, like he could both protect and consume me if he chose.

I swallowed hard, my breath hitching in my throat as his hand traveled further, down my calf, until his fingers lightly but deliberately wrapped around my ankle. It was an entirely innocent gesture, maybe, but it sent fireworks through me. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, steady and alive, matching the rapid beat of my own heart in a chorus of tension.

Noah turned slightly, just enough that I could see the smirk gracing his lips, that perfect smile deepening. "What's the matter?" he teased, his voice low and playful, not quite matching the serious tension in the air around us.

My pulse quickened further. Did he notice the way I was feeling? Was he teasing, or was there an underlying truth to his words? “N-nothing,” I replied, trying to maintain a facade of calm while my insides twisted with a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

His fingers tightened slightly around my ankle, and in that moment, the laughter of our friends faded away until it was just the two of us—the space around us pulsing with unspoken words and hidden truths. The air felt charged, electric with what lay between us, each heartbeat echoing a question that had lingered unspoken for far too long.

I finally said fuck it, and leaned in slightly closer, pressing my lips to the edge of his shoulder, feeling him stiffen just slightly at the unexpected contact. The initial shock was quickly replaced by more tension, and I could almost feel the struggle within him as I watched the playful spark in his eyes change into something deeper. Something more.

“You should be reeaal careful,” he murmured, barely above a whisper, his eyes locking onto mine with fierce intensity. All I could see or focus on was him.

I felt a rush of confidence, emboldened by the heat of our connection. “Or what?.”

[nhlclover]

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

— cozytober masterlist !

summary: you convince luke to bake with you despite his ineptitude in the kitchen.

warnings: sweet fluff! mentions of food + baking, also a joke about a diet

word count: 0.96k

notes: fic number two in cozytober! love my sweet boy luke, so i hope you guys enjoy this as well

The kitchen was filled with the warm scent of spices, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves all blending together as you gathered the ingredients for your latest baking project: chai pumpkin spice cupcakes. The golden afternoon light streamed through the window, casting a cozy glow over the countertops. Luke stood beside you, his brow furrowed as he eyed the stand mixer with a wary expression.

“Alright, babe, this is gonna be easy,” you said, splitting the ingredients into the wet and dry. “You’ll be handling the wet stuff—eggs, milk, oil. I’ll take care of the dry ingredients.”

Luke let out a small laugh, running a hand through his hair in that endearing, slightly self-conscious way you loved. “I still don’t know why you trust me near anything that requires precise measurements.”

You laughed. “Because everyone can learn, and besides, you’ve got me here to make sure nothing catches on fire.”

You handed him the recipe card, nudging him towards the eggs. Luke cracked an egg into a bowl, watching it slide down with a satisfying plop. But as he went for the second, you saw his eyes widen in panic. “Uh, I think I got some shell in there.”

Sure enough, tiny shards floated in the mixture. Luke fumbled to fish them out, his fingers hovering over the bowl with intense concentration. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him so focused.

“You’ve got this,” you encouraged, watching as he managed to extract the last piece. He breathed out in relief, grinning at his victory.

“Crisis averted,” he said, clearly pleased with himself.

“Good job, babe,” you said, giving him a playful nudge. “Now just measure the milk and oil, and we’re good to go.”

Luke nodded, his expression serious as he measured with the precision of someone about to perform surgery. Meanwhile, you whisked together the dry ingredients — flour, sugar, baking powder, and spices. The excitement bubbled inside you as you worked; there was something magical about baking in the fall, and sharing it with Luke, even with his shaky kitchen skills, made it even better.

Once Luke had his wet ingredients ready, he looked over at you, a proud gleam in his eye. “What’s next?”

“Just pour the wet stuff into the stand mixer and then add the dry ingredients,” you said, moving to line the cupcake tins. “Oh, and make sure to turn the mixer off before—”

Before you could finish, Luke, with a little too much enthusiasm, dumped the dry ingredients into the running mixer. A cloud of flour, cinnamon, and nutmeg exploded into the air, enveloping everything like a powdery storm. You gasped as the flour coated the countertops, the floor — and, of course, Luke.

Luke scrambled to shut off the mixer, the cloud of flour settling around him. Luke slowly turned to you, his face a comical mix of shock and regret. “Fuck…”

For a split second, you stood there in stunned silence, and then a laugh bubbled up, uncontrollable. Luke’s startled face, combined with the mess, was just too much. He started to laugh too, shaking his head as he wiped flour off his nose.

“Babe, I’m so sorry. I-I’m hopeless,” he groaned, though his grin betrayed him. “You should just take over before I somehow set off the smoke alarm.”

“No way,” you said, still giggling as you grabbed a spatula. “We’ll scoop up what we can, and it’ll be fine. Besides, you’re not getting out of this that easily.” Luke sighed dramatically, but the playful spark in his eyes told you he wasn’t really defeated. Together, you salvaged what you could from the countertop, adding the flour back to the mixer with no further disasters.

“See? Easy fix,” you said, brushing off your hands.

“Easy for you,” he mumbled, though there was something soft in his expression—an unspoken warmth that made your heart skip. Moments like this, the small messes and shared laughs, were what you loved most.

You handed Luke the cupcake tin, insisting that he scoop the batter into the liners. “This part is foolproof,” you said, “Just fill each one halfway.”

Luke took the task with the utmost seriousness, carefully spooning batter into each tin. To his credit, not a drop was wasted, and soon the cupcakes were in the oven, the kitchen returning to a peaceful calm as the scent of spiced cake filled the air. When the timer dinged, you both glanced into the over, and Luke grinned as the perfect golden cupcakes came into view.

"Not bad, huh?" you said, proud of the teamwork.

Luke nodded, partially surprised that something he had made turned out so good. “They look amazing.”

With the cupcakes cooling, you worked on the icing — cream cheese, butter, powdered sugar, and more spices, blending together in a sweet, velvety mixture. Together, you spread the spiced cream cheese frosting over each cupcake, the final touch to your masterpiece. Once the cupcakes were frosted, you both sat down to taste your handiwork.

You took a bite, closing your eyes as the flavors hit. “Oh wow,” you mumbled, “These are so good.”

Luke took a bite, and for a moment, you saw his eyes light up, the deliciousness taking him by surprise. But then he frowned, feigning seriousness. “Oh man, these are so sweet…I think just destroyed my diet with one bite.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Please, like one cupcake is going to ruin you.”

He grinned, licking some frosting off his thumb. “Yeah, but I blame you if I can't skate as fast tomorrow.”

You reached over, brushing a bit of flour from his cheek. “Well, if cupcakes are your downfall, I’ll gladly take the blame.”

Luke laughed, his hand finding yours by your side. “As long as you're there to bake more.”

[bothoutsiders]

Bruce: Jason should be the bigger person.

Tim: The person that was harmed shouldn't have to be the bigger person when they were the one mistreated and neglected.

It made his blood boil. His heart felt like it wanted to get out of his chest and fight the man in front of him with its own fists.

“It has been years, Timothy. He shouldn’t be holding grudges for that long.”

A small sound escaped Tim’s lips. The frustration bubbled from his chest and his limbs felt as heavy as lead.

How dare Bruce speak that way? How could he be so selfish and blind to see that he was in a way worse situation?

“Bruce…” Tim spoke after a big pause, only because he didn’t know how to put everything into words. How to throw it at his face and make him see. How to force him to open his eyes and comprehend what he has done, what he is saying, and what he was expecting from others.

The man across from him kept staring in silence, waiting.

“You can’t expect Jason to not resent you after everything that has happened. He was a kid when he was murdered. How would you have felt if you came back from the death and saw that the only adult who was nice to you and would act like a real parent, didn’t do anything to the murderer? He let him continue planning more crimes, hurting more innocent people. You never stopped him, Bruce.” He frowned, feeling his body stiff from the pent-up anger. “You let Jason rot in that box while the Joker ran free, breathing your same air.”

“Tim, that’s not how–”

“Shut up. Shut up and listen for once.” He pressed his thin index finger against the man’s chest. “Jason came back, and he wasn’t avenged. He saw someone else was replacing him. He believed he had been forgotten and everyone was better without him. Nobody spoke to him, nobody explained anything to him. Nobody has done that yet! And how many years has it been? Seven? And you expect him to just realize by himself and forgive you? Forgive you even when you went to him and didn’t care to expose him to his trauma again only so that he could tell you how he came back from the death? Because you were using him to get Damian back. That doesn’t excuse you. Let’s not forget about the many, many times you have beat him up, but you never do that to criminals…”

“He’s not a child anymore. Once you grow up, you have to heal your own wounds, make yourself responsible for how you feel now. How you react to the past.”

Tim snorted and took a step back. He stared at Bruce but he was serious, there was no hint of him joking, and Tim couldn’t help but start laughing.

“You’re such a hypocrite. Aren't you Bruce Thomas Wayne, the one who still has nightmares about what happened that night with your parents? The one who still holds a grudge since you were eight years old?” Tim got ready to leave. “Grow up, child.”

[aerascreamer]

I’ve been seeing a bunch of posts about the Batkids calling Dick out for being a cop and although I find them funny, the actual discussion would be going like this (also pardon me for any inconsistencies):

Jason: no way you actually became a cop Dickward-

Dick: I did. I saw how evil spread so deeply in Blüdhaven. I saw how the police contributed to the darkness of the city and the corruption running rampant. And I believed I could change this. I believed I could fight corruption from the inside and find good cops willing to fight for justice. For the longest time I supported and was supported by Gordon, Montoya and many more dedicated police officers who believed in the same cause as me. But I underestimated the corruption. I underestimated the depth the root of evil has reached. The officers on the top cared only about status and power, they only stick up for each other and if you didn’t comply and give up your morals, you’re harassed, isolated, driven out of the precinct. Fuck did my mental health took a toll. I constantly had to navigate disgust at the other’s behaviour, the stress of trying to fight back, and the hopelessness of the situation. And I had to keep up being Nightwing on top of it. So I needed to leave. I had to give up and lose this battle so I could continue the war. Had I stubborned my way into this wall, I don’t know if I’d still be here today…

Jason:

Jason: … I’m really wondering how Gordon is able to handle that kind of pressure if you couldn’t.

Dick: In my opinion, he cleaned up the GCPD years ago from a ton of bad weeds so its current state is much more manageable than Blud’s police. And he had the help of Batman, me, yours and all the others.

Jason: That make sense… also you need a god damn therapist.

Dick: No.

—

On a more serious note, typing this post made me realised how many other posts made Dick into a goofy character and even a joke.

Although I’m a sucker for fire fighter or gym teacher Dick, I recognise the potential Dick as a police officer has for storytelling, for exploring Dick’s resilience and morality as well as the harmful establishment that is the police system. I have yet to see someone explore this path with Dick either succeeding and becoming a figure similar to Gordon, or failing and having to fall back in vigilantism to make a change. Yet this possibility is rehashed as a joke, much like Dick himself.

In many more lighthearted post, he is treated as this bubbly over the top character who is poked fun at (being a cop, the Discowing, the mullet, obsession with cereal, butt jokes etc.), much like Tim is reduced to sad wet cat coffee addict. To me, Dick is a steady figure careful of each of his moves. He is a man who’s life is dedicated to hope, justice and positive change. He is a competent leader who wears a smile to reassure everyone and give them strength when heading for battle. He is a fierce protector whose anger you don’t want to be on the receiving end.

It’s fine to make him chirpier and more extravagant but to the point of becoming an almost comic relief? The JLA did not choose him and his team to fill in for them for nothing.

[little-diable]

Something Special - Dean Winchester (smut)

After watching SPN with @writethelifeyouwant this weekend, I needed to write a fic about Dean's "sex has always felt really good" monologue. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader tells Dean that she doesn't get the hype around sex, Dean is set on showing her that it's something truly special

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), friends to lovers, just pure smut basically

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (about 2k words)

header and plot idea by @deathofpeaceofmind

No longer was (y/n) used to the calm beat of her heart, not urged on by the adrenaline thumping through her veins because she was chased by someone, or rather something. No longer was (y/n) used to sitting back with a smile tugging on her lips, allowed to take a few deep breaths without following either Dean or Sam to wherever they were called to. But tonight – for the first time in weeks – (y/n) found herself sitting next to Dean, head placed on his shoulder, hand holding onto a cold bottle of beer. The sounds of the movie the two were watching filled her room, but neither Dean or (y/n) found themselves concentrating on the plot, sharing jokes, thoughts, and questions as the minutes kept blurring by.

“You know,” (y/n) took another sip of her beer, eyes focused on the scene flickering on. The two main characters were about to tumble onto the mattress of their now shared bed, momentarily leaving (y/n) wondering how it must feel to be touched like this by Dean. “I never got the whole excitement about sex. I mean, yes, I guess it can feel good, but it’s nothing special.”

“What?” Dean’s raspy chuckles bubbled out of him, hand reaching for the remote to pause the movie. “Nothing special? It’s the most special thing out there, sweetheart.”

(Y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling, drowning another sip before she placed the bottle down, fully turning towards Dean. His forest green eyes studied her as if he was trying to figure out if she was possessed, no longer able to guide herself. “Then please, enlighten me. What’s so special about it?”

“Fuck, the guys you’ve been with before must have sucked in bed, huh?” No longer were Dean’s eyes filled with the almost childish glee (y/n) found herself admiring whenever he didn’t notice her staring, no, by now they were filled with something rather serious, something that forced the hairs on her arms to rise. (Y/n) shuffled around, breaking eye contact for a second before she let go of a deep sigh.

“I don’t know, I mean, I never got close to an orgasm with them.” Dean’s warm hand found her chin, forcing (y/n) to look at him. For a few moments neither one of them dared to speak up, trying to communicate without sharing any words, listening to the silent whispers of their hearts like blind wanderers forced to rely on the whispers of the breeze, guiding them along uneasy paths. 

“Will you let me? You deserve to experience how good it can actually feel.” It was just a whisper, a sound so quiet (y/n) wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, and yet her curiosity got the best of her. Slowly she nodded her head, gasping in surprise as Dean’s plush lips found hers, kissing her without another warning. She was pulled into his lap, finding comfort close to his racing heart, to his strong thighs, and the hands that wandered up her spine to explore unfamiliar territory. 

Dean tugged her shirt over her head, dilated pupils flickering down to her chest, to the skin he kissed moments later. Every now and then their eyes met, just for a few seconds, and yet the seconds felt more sincere than any moments (y/n) had once shared with the men she had dated. But there had always been something special about Dean Winchester, the man that owned her heart without even knowing so.

“You see, sex has always felt really, really good. But, sometimes, it just makes you feel bad, you know?” Dean’s lips found their way back up to her throat while his hands worked on her bra, letting the fabric fall to the ground, taken from her before she could even try to cover herself up. “You’re drunk. You shack up. Then, it’s the whole morning thing. You know, “hey, that was fun.” And then, “adios,” you know? Always the “adios.” But, you know, when you get down to it, what’s the big deal, right?” The green colour of his eyes seemed to grow even greener as he sucked on her hardening nipples, set on leaving marks that would remind (y/n) of this very moment for days to come. 

“Dean,” she mewled his name, begging him to move down further. Another gasp ripped through her as Dean ground her core against his bulge, letting her feel how hard he was, just for her. Her clit was pulsing, secretly wondering if she’d be able to cum just like that, just from searching his closeness with most of their clothes still on. “More, please.”

“I mean, sure, there’s the touching and the feeling all of each other. My hands everywhere, tracing every inch of her body. The two of us moving together, pressing and pulling… Grinding. Then you hit that sweet spot, and everything just builds and builds and builds. I want you to feel that, all of it.” He chuckled at the desperate gaze swimming in her pupils, letting go of a soft “So impatient”. 

Dean clicked his tongue, flipping them around so that he could tower over her, hands tugging his own shirt over his head. Fuck, this wasn’t the first time (y/n) got to admire a shirtless Dean, and yet she had never dared to admire him for long, just a few seconds where he found himself distracted by something. But now Dean wasn’t distracted, no, he was awfully focused on (y/n), on the woman that would choke on his name in a few minutes. “I think I want you to cum on my tongue first, and then on my cock.”

“Oh fuck, do something, please.” His chuckles reverberated through the bedroom as he helped her out of her jeans, panties following shortly after. She was completely bare, naked for his eyes only, a sight so beautiful Dean found himself frozen. Both their hearts were racing, calling out to one another, very well knowing that this wasn’t just a quick hookup, not something they’d ever be able to forget. 

(Y/n)’s eyes followed Dean’s every move, watching him kiss his way down to her heat, eyes flickering up to meet hers as he brushed his tongue along her folds, moaning at her taste. She could already tell that this wouldn’t end like it had with the guys she had been with before, Dean would be able to make her cum in no time, pushing her over the edge before her mind could catch up with her body. 

Dean’s skilled fingers took care of her pulsing bundle of nerves, smirking against her skin as he dipped his tongue into her tightness. Her moans kept clawing through her, hands grasping her sheets in a desperate try to ground herself, unable to keep on breathing. Her body grew tense as she felt her orgasm creeping closer, forcing her to breathe faster, scared that she’d pass out from the tension now clinging to her. 

This very sensation had something so unfamiliar to it, (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever get to experience this again, already addicted to the feeling of Dean’s tongue taking care of her every need. Her moans urged him on to add more pressure to his movements, tongue fucking her faster, in sync with the movements of his fingers. 

“Oh god, Dean, I’m so close, please don’t stop.” Her sobs left his heart roaring in pride, tugging on his muscles as he watched her come undone. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered close, teeth buried in her lower lip as she let the sensation wash through her, allowing her vocal cords to produce the sweetest sounds Dean has ever heard before. He found himself marvelling at her, wishing that he’d be able to grasp his phone, to take a picture of the pleasure drunken expression tugging on her features. 

Dean had always known that he was in love with her, and yet he had never dared to act on his feelings, preferring to secretly harbour a crush that was stronger than any emotion he was used to by now, instead of ending up with a broken heart and a broken friendship. But in this very moment, Dean found himself growing more confident, finally understanding that she was tied to him in the same way he was tied to her. 

“Dean,” a deep sigh left her as he pulled away, smirking down on (y/n) before he kissed her. “Fuck me, please.” 

“Such a good girl, I knew you’d love this, you deserve to be touched by someone who actually wants you to enjoy this.” Dean rose from the bed to tug his trousers down his legs, allowing (y/n) to take in the sight of his clothed cock, of the way his cock was pressed against the fabric of his dark boxers. Fuck, she had dreamt about this very moment for way too many times, wondering how he’d fuck her, how he’d push her closer and closer to the edge with his cock buried deep inside of her. 

Dean rolled a condom down his cock before he aligned himself with her heat, fingers interlaced with hers before he slowly sank into her. Both needed a few moments to adjust, exhaling the tension tugging on their muscles, urged on by the emotions that made this very night more special than all others they got to live through before. 

(Y/n)’s trembling hand tugged Dean down to her, sharing a passionate kiss as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He moved slowly at first, building up a rhythm that shot sparks down their spines, leaving them drowning in the heat thumping through their veins. 

“Shit, you feel so good.” Dean’s praises left her heart skipping beats, racing in her chest as if she was on another hunt, guided by the adrenaline rushing through her system. But this very moment wasn’t filled with the same kind of adrenaline she was all too used to, no, it had a new touch to it, allowing her to silence her racing thoughts. 

Her walls fluttered around his cock as his hand found its way back to her sensitive clit, pushing her closer and closer to the edge, very well knowing that they’d both cum any moment now. Heavy breaths left them, mixed with moans and groans that echoed through her bedroom, a sound that would forever cling to them, reminiscent like the emotions filling their bodies. 

“There we go, can feel you clenching my cock. Let go for me, sweetheart.” Dean’s raspy words pushed her over the edge, hands finding his shoulders to claw her fingernails into his skin. He fucked her through her high, staring down on her with a proud smirk before he followed her, releasing himself into the condom. 

Dean slowly pulled out of her, tossing away the condom before he searched her closeness again. For a few minutes neither of them dared to speak up, trying to catch their breaths with closed eyes and wandering fingers that stroked one another’s warm skin. With a kiss pressed to her forehead, Dean pulled (y/n) into his chest, tightening his grip on her. 

“You’re right, this is truly the most special thing ever.” 

[lesservillain]

inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader

cw: smut, miscommunications

January 19th, 1995 

“And when you take the line that Romeo-”

With ten minutes left in class, you were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. All eyes turn to see Mr.Bridges standing with his bright smile and a crisp new tie. He gives a friendly wave and stands there waiting for you to greet him. He gets the hint when you give him a questioning look.

“Hell, all! I hope you had a good holiday season,” he waves, a stack of envelopes in his hand. You did your best to keep your excitement contained, watching his hand as he made his way to you, “I have your newest letters here. And I just want to say that the boys at the jail loved the cards, guys. You all wrote some very nice things and they all had a light in their eyes when they read them.”

When you went to grab the stack from his hands, he stopped you, stepping close enough to whisper. “Can I talk with you in the hallway for a moment, please?” Your heart raced at how serious his tone was. Nodding, you let the class know you’d be stepping out, and to do some self study in the meantime. Mr.Bridges closed the door behind you, clearing his throat before turning to face you.

“Is everything okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not smiling. It’s kind of creeping me out.” You joke, trying to lighten the tense vibes this interaction is giving. 

He looks down and the ground for a moment before looking back up to you, “So, I have some bad news. About one of the inmates.”

Your heart dropped to your ass.

“W-what happened?”

“There was an…incident over the holidays,” he starts, “one of the inmates was attacked and, unfortunately, didn’t survive.”

Your head reeled back, suddenly dizzy. He kept speaking before you could think much more.

“We don’t know how it happened, but we are looking into making sure that our security measures don’t let it happen again. But,” he perks up again, easily slipping back into his sunny disposition, “in the meantime, that means you don’t have to worry about writing to your inmate anymore!”

Oh, god you wanted to puke.

“E-Eddie died?” You could barely get out the words and your vision started to go blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“What, oh, no, another inmate,” he said nonchalantly, “Eddie’s fine, but he’s just going to be reassigned to the student who had the inmate who passed. Wasn’t very happy when we told him about the switch, but when we told him that you weren’t super keen on the whole project to begin with, his tune seemed to change.”

It was too much coming at you all at once. It felt like the worst case of the spins. Relief hit first, and then mortification. Bridges was talking but you couldn’t hear the words. He handed you the stack of letters as the students started pouring out of the classrooms before disappearing amongst the crowd.

The rest of the morning you were in a funk. Only on your lunch break were you finally able to sit down and process everything. Eddie is alive. A positive. Eddie probably hates you. A negative. Anger bubbled in your body. Why would they even tell him about your disapproval for the program anyway? Sure, you had your reservations, but you’ve had a change of heart in the last few months.

“Fuck,” you bury your face in your hands and run them down to your neck. The stack of envelopes sit on your desk. You’re not sure which student got Eddie in the mix, so you flip through the envelopes to see if the handwriting looks familiar. Sure enough you see a name in the familiar chicken scratch handwriting. You sit back in your chair with a huff, throwing the envelopes on your desk.

Tears started to fall. You looked up to the ceiling to try and cease their descent but it was too late. 

It’s always just when it starts to get good that it’s all ripped away from you. Just when you started getting good at soccer, you broke your foot. Just when your dad started coming around, he relapsed and ran off again. Just when you got to see your moms face light up when she found out she was getting her first grandchild, you had a miscarriage. Just when you thought your life was going to be normal for once in your life, your husband had to have an affair. And just when you thought you had something in your life to look forward to, that was taken away from you, too. 

“Hey, Marcus ordered pizza, it’s in the breakroom-” The chipper voice of Mr.Clark made you jump, bringing your sleeved wrists to your eyes to hide the evidence. “Woah, hey, what’s going on? Did Carl Thompson try to set his paper on fire again? I told Ester that he needed to be searched when he gets off the bus in the morning.”

You let out a light chuckle at his attempt at humor, though there was some truth in his words…Regardless, you just shake your head and give him the best smile you can muster. “No, not today, Scott. I’m just, um, still a little emotional from the holidays?”

“Ah, yeah, I get it,” he nods his head in solidarity, “I was pretty blue after Jen left. Still not much better, really.” The thousand yard stare he gives as he says those last words make you feel a little concerned for him in the moment. You give him a look, and he instantly goes back to his normal self, “But, hey, it does get better. Valentines day probably wont help,” his eyes widen in momentary distress, “but, the staff usually have a little party at Bennigan’s, so that will be fun!”

You just nod your head, “Yeah, sure, sounds like fun…”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Scott tsks and slowly starts moving out of the doorway to your classroom. “Well, yeah, anyway, uh, pizza’s in the breakroom.” Then he’s gone.

You wait a moment before letting out a laugh you desperately needed.

January 21st, 1995

“Open up, you’re not skipping out on another weekend!”

A groan pours from your chest, muffled by the pillow you’ve got your face buried in. Another knock comes from the front door, Robin’s voice booming from the other side. 

“Alright, alright!” You barely lift yourself from the couch to lean over the arm, twisting the knob of your front door to let your beloved friends in. As they make their way inside, you twist your body to look at the clock on the stove, but your vision is too blurry to see. “What time is it?” 

“Nine in the morning,” Steve says as he lifts up your feet to sit at the end of your couch, placing them back in his lap, “we’re going to brunch, then we’re hitting up the mall. Robin is in desperate need of a new pair of shoes.”

“I’m pretty sure I have the back of an 80 year old. Probably from carrying the weight burden of being Steve’s only friend.”

Your whole body shakes from laughter, Steve’s face only making you laugh harder, “You are not my only friend!” He gestures to you, still laying on the couch, boneless in you lack of effort to peel yourself from the couch, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Robin. 

“Oh, yeah, this barnacle of a human is totally worth calling your friend,” She says jokingly as she grabs your arm in an attempt to pull you from the couch.

“Hey,” you say defensively before starting to maneuver yourself upright, “I still move around. If I’m any sea creature I’m at least a starfish.”

“Pardon me, I’ll make sure to properly address you next time.”

After getting properly dressed and piling into Steve’s car, you let them drag you around to brunch, letting yourself have a few mimosas and eating enough appetizers that you barely touch the food you ordered. 

At the mall, you let Steve and Robin drag you from store to store. They stop and laugh at the empty spot in the food court where their old ice cream job used to be before it caught fire (neither of them would tell you how it caught fire). Eventually, Steve ran to the bathroom, leaving you and Robin to wander around the mall. 

“Why don’t you get yourself something nice?” She nudged you, tilting her head in the direction of a fancy underwear store, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Why? Who am I gonna wear it for? You and Steve?”

Her shoulders shrug, “Hey I’m not complaining. But, you never know. Love will soon be in the air, and maybe you’ll get asked out on a date. Wouldn’t it be nice to wear something cute like that,” she points to a mauve coloured bra and panty set on one of the mannequins in the window, “rather than the same $2 pack of granny panties and K-Mart bra all the time?”

“Are you suggesting I’m going to be putting out on the first date?” You look at her with a deadpan expression.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” her hands go up defensively, “But, you’d probably feel better knowing that if you did get lucky, at least you came prepared.”

Looking into the store, then back to your friend, who gives you the best convincing face she can muster, you slump your shoulders and make your way into the store. You try on a few things, using Robin’s expert opinion to find something that pops on your colour wise and fits your body’s curves the best. 

When you emerge from the store after making your purchase, you find Steve sitting on a bench a few feet away, eyes scanning around him. Once his eyes meet the two of you, he jumps from his seat and makes his way over. 

“What the hell, you guys totally disappeared on me!”

“Relax mother bear,” Robin pats Steve on the back, “We just wanted to make a quick pit stop before we go.”

Steve eyes the bag in your hand when you lift it up for him, and his cheeks get a dusting of pink to them. “Ah, I see. Well, I guess that means we’re ready to go then?”

After making one more stop on the way home to pick up dinner, the three of you settled on Steve’s couch. Just as he went to take his spot next to Robin, the phone rang. Steve lets out a groan before making his way into the kitchen. “Harrington’s residence,” he says with his fake customer service voice, you and Robin to stifle your giggles. His face goes from annoyed to wide eyed, and a smile blooms across his face.

“You mean tonight?” He asks, eyes flicking over to yours for a moment, “Yeah, yeah, we’re just about to watch a movie, but it can wait. Do you know what time? No, no it’s fine, I know you’re busy, sir.”

Steve looks at his watch and nods his head. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be right here when he does. Thanks, Mr. Munson. Bye-bye.”

You feel your eyes go wide. Munson? Steve answers your questions before you can even think to ask them.

“So, Eddie is gonna call in, like,” he looks at his watch again, “20 minutes. His uncle said he meant to call sooner but hadn’t had the chance,” he looks at you with a quirked brow, “Is that going to be okay? You don’t have to be in the room when we talk to him if you don’t want to-”

“No, no, I’ll be fine!” You wave your hands, “Don’t do anything different on my account.”

“Are you sure?” Robin’s voice has a more teasing tone compared to Steve’s. 

“Yeah, no, it’s cool,” you sit back on the couch, trying to disguise your nerves, “Just…pretend I’m not here.” Your attention is now on the cuticles on your nails, and you miss the look of mischief on Robin’s face, along with Steve’s nod in return.

To avoid the awkwardness that started to build, you jumped up from Steve’s couch and made your way to his fridge to get a drink. Taking a long sip, you almost drop the bottle entirely when the sound of the phone ringing again makes you jump. 

A lump in your throat forms, and you feel butterflies instantly in your stomach. Shit, is that sweat on the back of your neck? You watch as Robin springs up from the couch and makes her way to stand next to Steve. When Steve picks up the phone a woman’s voice can be heard on the other end. He gives a short “yes” and the phone is quiet for a moment. Robin looks at you from over Steve’s shoulder with a smile. Then, you can hear a voice.

“Hello?”

Robin and Steve adjust themselves so that the phone is between both of their ears. “Hey, Eddie,” Robin says with a cheerful enthusiasm. 

“Sup, man,” Steve says cooly, “How’s it going?”

Your heart flutters when you hear a soft laugh from the speaker of the phone. 

“Same thing, different day. Been trying to keep myself occupied. Old man got sent to solitary again so I had to be on my toes last week. But,” he said the last word with a sing-songy voice, “I did get some good news.”

Robin and Steve look at each other, visible excitement in their eyes.

“Did you get a set date?” Robin’s ask, becoming excited and pulling the phone closer to her ear. Steve pulls it back and gives her a look.

“Yep! Only five more miserable months and then I’m a free man,” you can hear the relief in Eddie’s tone as he practically shouts into the phone. Whoops and hollers come from your two friends as they bounce around in front of you. You can’t help but feel excited for him too, eyes meeting with Robin in mutual excitement.

“That’s so awesome man,” Steve laughs into the phone, “just in time for your birthday, too.” 

“Oh, yeah! We’re definitely going to terrorize the Hideout,” Robin says.

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to it. Can’t wait to drink with the kids, too,” Eddie laughs.

The three of them continue their back and forth for a few minutes, talking about their mutual friends and what shenanigans that they can all get into.

“Hey, are they doing a rose festival this year?” 

You perk up at this, still standing idly by and sipping on your beer. Robin notices and smirks, “Yeah, I think so. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a couple months. You remember that pen pal thing I was telling you guys about?”

Now both sets of eyes are on you. A slight blush covers your cheeks, and you feel your heart beating faster. 

“Oh, yeah, with that teacher? Are you still doing that?” Steve winks at you. You look at him wide eyed, mouthing “what the fuck” but he just brushes you off. 

Eddie’s tone shifts, “Still writing letters, but not to her.” There’s a clear malice in his voice. Like just the thought of you made his mood sour. All the butterflies die instantly and fall into your ass at his words. Steve and Robin look at the phone confused. “What? Why?”

There’s a pause for a moment. “I can’t really go into the details. But they told me I couldn’t write her anymore. I got pissed off and told them that the reason why wasn’t fair, that I wanted to keep writing to her. Well, turns out she never liked writing to me anyway. The guy running the whole thing said that she was only “doing it out of obligation” and wasn’t the nicest person in the first place. Said she was trying to get canceled from the start, made it seem like it was a chore.”

“That’s not true!” You finally speak up, tears welling in your eyes. “I mean, it’s not totally true.”

There’s a pause, the three of you standing in complete silence for a moment.

“What?” Eddie’s voice, crackling in the receiver, is riddled with confusion, “Is someone else there? Hello?”

Grabbing the phone from Steve’s hand, you take a deep breath before bringing it to your ear. “I like getting letters from you, Eddie.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Then, he says your name softly, but like it’s a question.

“Yeah…surprise?” Your voice is small, and it matches the smile on your face. You wait for Eddie to say something in response, but there is a sudden commotion coming from his end. All you hear is him yelling back at someone before the line goes dead.

“Eddie? Eddie, hello?” Your panicked voice makes Steve grab the phone from your hand, bringing it up to his own ear. “Did he hang up?” He asks, looking at you confused, placing the phone back on the receiver.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, “It was quiet and then I heard some muffling and yelling. Then the line went dead.”

“Shit,” Robin places a hand on your shoulder, “You think he’s okay?”

“Can you call him back?” you look to Steve, pleading for him to do something. 

Steve shakes his head dismally, eyes darting between floor tiles, “No, only he can call us.” He shrugs, lifting his head just enough to look at you through his lashes, “We did talk for a while, maybe his time was up?”

You couldn’t help but frown at his words, your mind going to the worst case scenario of what could have happened.

“Hey,” Robin’s words brought you back, “He’s fine, don’t worry about him. He’s always been able to hold his own.” She gives you a questioning look, “You didn’t tell us that you weren’t writing to each other anymore.”

Your head rolls in frustration, “I only just found out on Thursday. Some guy died and it fucked everything up. One of my students gets to write to him now and I don’t get to do anything about it.”

Fist slamming on the counter, you feel your blood starting to boil. “I never said it was a chore to write to him. Sure, I was skeptical at first, but I haven’t said a single negative thing since the damn thing started. I just…Fuck, I knew he was going to be mad at me.”

The warmth of Steve’s hand on your back along with the weight of Robin’s head on your shoulder as she link arms with yours grounded you. You expected them to say something, but they just let you cry it out, moving you to the couch. They knew that the tears falling weren’t just because you lost a pen pal. It was a break down that was a long time coming. Everything came pouring out, letting your wound be open and exposed to the air. 

February 3rd, 1995

“-Then, you’re going to write his name, his booking number and his cell block. That’s all the stuff I told you before.”

You nod your head, as if the voice on the phone could see you. “Okay, got it. So I just write the address and stamp it now, correct?”

“Yeah,” Dustin Henderson squeaks on the other end, “And it should work. I write letters to him all the time since we don’t have a phone in our dorm. I tried to stick some blank papers in there once for him but he said they confiscated it and still made him pay for the paper he does write on. Messed up, isn’t it?”

“I know, right,” you say with an ire, placing your letter in the envelope before licking it closed, “What a way to squeeze money out of someone.”

“Totally! Anyway, I’m sure Eddie will be stoked to get your letter. Steve gave me some of the details, but when he reads what you said there’s no way Eddie can stay mad. He pretends to be a tough guy but he’s a total softy -- Don’t tell him I said that, please.”

“I promise,” you laugh, “It’s the least I can do for all your help, Dustin.”

“Hey, who am I to keep two people from falling in love,” the suave suggestion in his voice makes you blush, but you keep yourself together.

“We’re not in love, we’re barely even friends.”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for the wedding. Which I better be the best man for!” 

“I think you’re breaking up, Dustin! Thank you for your help! Byeeee!”

Leaning against the wall next to the phone, you take in a deep breath before letting it out and up with exasperation. Holding the envelope between your fingers, smoothing your thumbs over the edges, you stare at his name for a moment. The envelope feels heavier than normal, but that’s the difference that writing three front and back pages will do. 

Three pages, all written with your heart. The invisible eye of judgment that looked over you when you wrote your letters before had disappeared. You felt the need to explain yourself after everything that had transpired. You didn’t sugar coat anything, because that wouldn’t be fair. But, you hoped that when you explained your background a little that he would understand your reservations. It only seemed fair to tell him that you knew more about him than you let on in your last letter, hoping that when you explained how Robin and Steve had entered your lives that it would clear up any misunderstandings.

It was hard to write, but you concluded the letter by telling him that you would understand if he still hated you. If he didn’t want to talk to you ever again, you would respect that, even if it meant having to distance yourself from your friends. You signed with your own rendition of a small rose next to it, and made the last minute decision to add your apartment phone number at the very bottom. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you put it there just in case.

February 14th, 1995

As the final bell rang for the day, you wished your students a safe trip home, reminding them to have their homework packets done by Thursday. Once the last student filed out, you wasted no time getting to tearing down the pink and red decor that had been haunting you for the last two weeks. You’d not been a big fan of Valentine’s Day to begin with. Even when you and Henry were still together he had only really put in any effort the first year or two. Then it just became mundane and predictable. He’d take you to dinner, get a little wine in you, and expect you on your knees once you got home. 

It was almost nice to spend a year doing something different for once.

“Hey, Anita wanted to get a head count tonight to make sure we have enough seats. You’re still good to go, right?” 

“Yeah,” you turned to see Scott at your door, “I’ll be there, 6 sharp! Just going to run home and get out of my teacher costume.”

Mr.Clark laughed at that, “Alright, see you later then!” He gave a little wave before he tucked himself back out into the hall. 

After cleansing your classroom of any signs of love, you made your way home to get ready. Even though Steve was a little bummed you wouldn’t be joining him and Robin for a night of cheap chocolate and shitty made for TV movies, Robin was more than happy to hear that you wanted to get out of your shell and make more friends. “Don’t forget to wear that set you got!”

And you did. Not that you expected anything to happen, but she was right about feeling good in it, even if it was just for yourself. Self love counts on Valentine’s Day.

When you came home later that night, you were still in a fit of giggles from the excitement at dinner. Between the surprise karaoke set up and the look on Scott's face when Mrs.Blaine pulled him back to the bathrooms during the peak of the night, you’d dare to say that you’d had a good time. You’d even limited yourself to one drink before switching to water.

As you peeled your jacket and boots off the red flashing of your answering machine caught your eye. You walk over to the machine, letting it play as you walk around the apartment.

“You have: two missed messages. First message.”

BEEP.

“Hi, darling.”

You stop mid step. Goosebumps cover all of your body at the sound of his voice. You hadn’t heard it in months. Almost a year now.

“I’m sorry I missed you…In more ways than one I suppose. I’m guessing you’re probably out with Stephen tonight. I saw the two of you out with your friend at the mall a few weeks back.”

A pause in the message has you wondering if he hung up after that.

“I…I guess I just wanted to say that I hope you’re doing well. You looked as much, and they way he looked at you…Well, I guess I can’t comment. Hope you have a good night. Love you.”

Love you.

You scoff. 

“Second message.”

BEEP.

“This call is coming from Pendleton Correctional Facility from:”

“Eddie Munson.”

Quicker than you’ve ever moved before, you’re sure your feet barely touch the ground as you make your way to your living room. 

“Hello? Oh was that a beep? Shit, sorry.” He was clearly flustered, his fumbling only made you feel giddy like you were listening to a voicemail from your crush.

“Let me start over. Hi, it’s Eddie,” he laughs, “I hope it’s not weird for me to call today. They only make you pay half as much if you tell them you’re calling your old lady. Not that I’m saying you are my-my, uh, girl or whatever.” You could almost picture how red he must have been as he was talking. You couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands and falling over on your couch, floundering around at the implication.

“I would have called sooner, but I had to wait for your number to be added to my approved call list. Just, uh, wanted to let you know I got your letter. I wrote you one back, but I’m waiting on a stamp. The freaking ran out since everyone is sending love letters. So as soon as they get more I’ll be shipping that out to you. But…I wanted to tell you that I’m not mad. That Bridges, he’s a real asshole. He keeps bragging about how as long as the project goes well then he gets a bonus.”

You were shocked at first, but it all made sense when you thought about it. In your gut, you knew there was no way his sunny demeanor was genuine. His insistence on your participation as well. He probably would have lost money if you hadn’t taken on his offer.

“And as much as I hate the guy, I gotta admit that we wouldn’t be…whatever this is without him. On that note, I also feel like I need to get something off my chest.”

Heart beating a million beats per second, you sit up straight, keeping your eyes on the machine as if it would disappear if you looked away for even a second. 

“I may or may not have known a little bit about you before all of this happened, too. Before we started writing to each other actually, thanks to the wonder twins telling me all about their new friend whose asshole husband cheated on her with a girl 15 years younger than him. They would talk about you any time I called and I started to look forward to meeting you when I got out. That hasn’t really changed…” The audio is muffled for a moment, where he probably put his hand over the receiver, “Alright, jeez get off my back, Tony. I’ll be done in a fucking minute. Sorry,” his voice becomes clear again, “these guys are jerks. Anyway, to make a long story short, I think that we should just put the stupid shit with Bridges behind us, start over, or pick up where we left off. I think that it’ll make more sense when you read my letter. So, yeah. Um, have a happy Valentine’s day and…live long and prosper. Bye!”

BEEP.

“No new messages. Two old messages.”

May 27th, 1995

A breeze blows gently through your apartment, billowing your curtains lightly. Lightening Crashes by Live transitions into Only Wanna Be With You by Hootie and the Blowfish on the little radio that you picked up from Melvald’s on clearance. You hum along, wiping sweat from your forehead as you continue to mop your kitchen floor. “I only wanna be with youuuuuu~,” you belt out into the empty apartment.

The phone rings in the living room, and you look at the clock. Shit, it was noon already? You scramble to turn the radio down, careful not to knock over the empty wine bottles that sat next to the sink, drain rung red. You hop over the coffee table, planting your butt on the cushion and picking up the phone. The automated message plays, and you mutter a little yeah, yeah, yeah as it speaks. Hearing Eddie’s voice gets you curling up against the arm of the couch. You give a quick yes, and soon you’re connected.

“Hello?” 

You try and hide your excitement, but fail miserably as you reply. “Hi, Eddie!” 

“Happy first day of no school! How did last night go?” His voice was full of genuine interest, you could almost imagine the grin he has on his face.

“It went really well! I had to take Mr.Clark home afterwards, but I didn’t have a single drink! I also don’t think I’ve had a single migraine since we last talked.”

Eddie’s laugh told you that he was definitely cheesing on his end. “That’s so awesome, Sweetheart! I’m super proud of you.”

His praises made you melt, his smooth voice not helping.

After Eddie’s message on Valentine’s day in combination of his letter, the two of you agreed to try your friendship again from scratch. It was never spoken between you two, but you’re sure that after all the things you’ discussed on that first real phone call just between the two of you that Robin and Steve were planning to set you two up, even before the prison project. When you asked them about it, they just played dumb so you just put it to rest. 

Your dreams had also changed. Once the door that was closed was now open, the two of you sit facing each other. Sometimes you would talk, sometimes the dream would only last for a few moments. Either way, the feeling was different now. There was no fear, he just needed to cross the threshold to get to you.

Eddie has been calling every other Saturday at noon since. You’d drive to his uncle’s trailer after every call to give him money to put on Eddie’s commissary, shocked the first time to see the man you spent some of Christmas Day with. You had been too far gone to remember his name, which you apologized profusely for. He told you it was no big deal, and insisted on showing you some hospitality and some old photos of Eddie when he was younger.

Eventually it became routine. Wake up, get everything prepped, talk to Eddie until eventually Tony (who apparently thinks he gets to tell people how long that can use the phone) kicks him off, take food to Wayne’s, and then spend the evening with Steve and Robin. It took a lot of energy out of you at first, but when you confided in your friends about your drinking problem, it started to feel like less of a chore as your energy started to come back. 

“What have ya got made up for Wayne today?” Eddie asks.

“He told me he really liked my hash brown casserole I made a few weeks ago, so I got that ready for him before I started cleaning this morning.”

“Damn, he did say somethin’ about you making a good casserole. I’m gonna get a belly on me if you’re gonna be cookin’ like that,” his pained sounds at missing out on your food has you squirming in your seat. You couldn’t pinpoint when it really started, but as your phone calls became more frequent, the two of you talked more and more about things that you wanted to do together.

It started out as group activities. He wanted you to come to a D&D game. You wanted to go with him and Steve and Robin to this cute farmers market your coworker told you about. He wanted to try and get a gig at the hideout so he could show you how good his band sounds. You wanted to have a get together at Steve’s when he comes home. He wants to take you to this really nice restaurant in town. You want to bring him with you to Chicago some time when you are out visiting your brother. He wants to take you to the movies. You want to take him to the new record store opening this summer. 

It would be a lie to say that his promises didn’t make you hopeful. You had to constantly remind yourself that he didn’t even know what you looked like. He could say all these things to you on the phone, and he could just as easily book it if you weren’t what he was expecting. 

“Oh, I was thinking-” you started.

“That’s never a good sign,” he teased.

“Ha ha, so funny, Munson,” you fake offense, “Anyway, I was thinking we could go see the new Batman movie when you get out. Robin and Steve keep debating on if Val Kilmer is going to play a good Batman, but I just want to see Jim Carry as the Riddler.”

“I don’t know, have you ever sat through a movie with them?” He questions.

“Uh, yeah, plenty--oh, okay I see your point,” you say, thinking about how much the two of them talk during a movie just at Steve’s. They were probably menaces in a movie theater. 

“Yeah, it would probably be better if just the two of us go. Save us a headache,” he suggests. 

“Sounds like a date, then,” you say, curious of his reaction. It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“A date? Yeah, sure, yeah, that,” he sounds nervous.

“I’m just messing with you, Eddie,” you say to save face, hoping to hide any disappointment in your voice.

“Oh,” his tone sounds sad, dejected even, “Yeah, sure.”

You were going to say something until you heard Tony’s voice yelling. Both of you let out a sigh in unison. 

“Alright, I guess I’ll hear from you in two weeks?” You don’t even bother to hide your disappointment anymore.

“Yeah. Wish it was sooner…”

“Hey, only two more months, Eddie,” you try to lift his spirits.

“Two more months,” he mirrors back.

After you say your goodbyes, you quickly get cleaned up to head over to Wayne’s. His old truck sits in the driveway, and you catch him finishing up mowing the grass. You pop the casserole in the oven while he gets cleaned up, using the spare time to pick up a few things here and there. Wayne’s tried to tell you guests don’t get to clean up, but you just ignored him until he gave up, asking him if it was really the hill he wanted to die on.

The two of you chatted, eventually migrating out to the front porch to enjoy the steady nice weather. 

“Do you think Eddie will like me?” you ask nonchalantly, keeping your eyes on a crack beneath your feet.

Wayne stops mid puff and looks at you confused.

“What?” you ask, trying to play it off.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” he asks, blowing the smoke away from you.

“No, I mean…What if he thinks I’m something I’m not? What if he’s disappointed when he meets me?”

Wayne barks out a laugh, “Oh, trust me, he won’t. I already know exactly what’s gonna happen, and it’s not him running away with his tail between his legs.”

“What do you thinks going to happen?” you ask with concern.

He just smiles, eyes fixed on the sunset.

July 26th, 1995

Your hands smooth out the fabric of your dress for the hundredth time, opting for something simple yet flattering and pairing it with some nice jewelry. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Robin was laying across Steve’s bed, swinging her legs and staring at the ceiling. “For the millionth time, yes, you look hot. He’s gonna fall to his knees when he sees you.”

You walk over to the bed and plop down next to her, “And for the millionth time, it’s not like that Robin. I…,” you fiddle with your rings as you stare at Steve’s ceiling fan spinning above you, “What if I’m not what he’s expecting? I know what he looks like, but he’s only going off of what he’s been told about me. What if when he gets here, he takes one look at me and-”

“Okay, listen,” Robin places a hand delicately over your mouth, “First of all, Eddie is going to have to pick his jaw off the floor when he sees you. I promise you that.” You look over to her next to you, smiling under her hand. “Second, if it’s not “like that,” then why are you wearing that matching set you got when we went to the mall?” The hand on your mouth moves to your shoulder where she snaps your bra strap against your skin.

You jump up from the bed trying to hide the blush in your face when a knock on the door draws both of your attention.

“Hey, are you two done playing dress up in there? Jane and Max need help getting all the food set up.”

“On it,” you say as you open the bedroom door, sliding past Steve to get away from Robin before she can ask any more questions. 

You wipe the sweat from the back of your neck, bouncing Nancy and Jonathan’s two year old daughter on your hip. Nancy was telling you about her latest article in the New York times when Dustin’s shrieking voice caught everyone’s attention.

“HE’S HERE! HE’S HERE!” Dustin yells from the front yard, and you can hear the sound of a car playing metal music on full blast getting closer, before cutting off completely.

You hand Nancy her toddler back, not trusting yourself to be able to hold her as your hands start to shake. A lump fills your throat, and it suddenly feels way hotter than it did a second ago. You’re surrounded by excited whispers and the rustling of Gareth getting into a cooler to grab a beer. 

And then it’s the skin to skin contact of Mike brushing past you and the squealing of Max and Jane from the other side of the yard as two bodies emerge from around the side of the house. A usually bald head covered in a dark brown cowboy hat, followed by a mop of curls that bounce with excitement. Bodies flocked around him; you note that he’s taller than most, say for Mike and Argyle. Everyone is taking their turns to greet him, and you’re hit with a realization that this is a family. A weird, mixed found family, who clearly have a bond that can’t be broken by time, and you were lucky enough to be accepted by them.

“Hey, there little missy,” Wayne’s voice breaks you from your trance, his arms open expectantly. The normally gruff and distant man was all smiles today, for good reason.

“Hi Wayne,” you wrap your arms around him, patting him on the back before pulling away, “How was the drive?”

“Lord,” he says, shaking his head, “That boy ain’t changed a bit. Either talked my ear off or played music loud enough that I’ll need hearing aids.” He looked over to Eddie, who was still being mobbed by the other party guests, “But, it was worth it.”

You hum in agreement, watching as Robin talks to Eddie. She points your way, and before you can prepare yourself his gaze meets yours. Even from a distance you can see the sun hitting his eyes just right, honey brown orbs locked on you. You lift your hand up to give him a small wave, and the biggest grin you’ve ever seen spreads across his face. You’re sure your face must be beat red, and you shift your eyes suddenly feeling shy. Eddie places a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and moves him to the side, making a beeline to you and Wayne.

Gravity felt like it was magnifying with each step he made, and everything around him was blurry. Every nerve in your body felt like a live wire. You’re sure you weren’t even this nervous on your wedding day. You smooth out your dress again, the fabric brushing against your skin leaving a tingling feeling behind. Each stride he takes gives you an opportunity to examine him further, to see the dimples in his cheeks, the lines in the corners of his eyes where his smile reaches them, the littering of light freckles and other imperfections.

He stopped just in front of you, his body rocking back to maintain a space between you. His hands were tucked in his jean pockets with his arms tight to his body. It reminded you of a kid trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself. 

“Hey,” his voice was even nicer in person.

“Hi.” It came out small. You were trying to be cool, but kept your head low to hide the smile on your face. He shifted where he stood, bending and twisting to force himself into your vision. The girlish giggle that came out of you was unrecognizable. You look up to him as he makes himself upright again. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

He shuffles his feet, probably a nervous habit. “Yeah, no kidding,” his head tilts and he looks at you with one eye, “I know being locked up for 5 years didn’t really do a lot of good to me, but, uh, I hope that I still hold up to the pictures you’ve seen of me.” 

 “I’d say it wasn’t all bad,” you look him up and down playfully, “You look…mature. I’d venture to even call you handsome.” It was his turn to act bashful now, bringing a hand to rub against his stubble. The both of you laugh, exchanging glances before you speak again, “Was I what you were expecting?”

He leans his body back, the huge smile returning to dimple his cheeks again. “Are you kidding me? Even better than I imagined. You didn’t do yourself justice, ya know.”

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush,” you whine and curl into yourself, kicking at the ground.

“Too late for that,” Steve says as he slaps Eddie’s shoulder, “Now, if the two of you are done pretending not to like each other over here, we got food to eat. Who wants a hamburger!”

The yard is alive with chatter and Eddie makes his rounds to catch up. One of the guys who you’re pretty sure is named Jeff, makes him shotgun a beer with him and everyone cheers when Eddie crushes the can on his head. “Henderson,” he yells pointing at Dustin in the pool, “you’re next! Gotta make up for all the lost time since I missed your 21st birthday!” 

“That’s a lot of drinking to do,” Jane says with a worried look on her face. You look at her where she sits next to you on the edge of the pool and pat her back.

“It was nice knowing them, I guess.”

Max snorts from the other side of El, making all three of you erupt in a fit of giggles. You stop when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up into the sweet chocolate eyes, he kneels down and you can smell the beer on his breath. “Hey, you doing okay? Me drinking isn’t gonna bother you, right? Do you want another water bottle?”

He’s been doing this for the last 2 hours, leaving his conversations to check in on  you, even before he started drinking. Not that you were complaining, you relished in the attention he was giving you. Where at parties with Henry you were there to be seen and not heard, Eddie made you feel like the party was for you. Putting your plate together for you, standing just behind you when you talked in a group, undoing your shoes for you when you said you wanted to drip your feet in the pool. When you told him to stop hovering and enjoy his friends, he did so reluctantly, stealing glances your way like he was scared you’d be gone if his eyes weren’t on you.

“Eddie, I promise I can handle you and everyone else here drinking,” you give him a warm smile, “And I’m okay, thank you for asking.”

“Please drink Dustin under the table,” Lucas groans as he swims up to the edge of the pool, resting his chin on Max’s knee, “He thinks he can handle his alcohol well and I need to see you put him in his place.”

“Hey!” Dustin shouts as he exits the pool. 

The night starts to wind down a few hours later. Some people are gone and others are sitting by the fire pit reminiscing on times you weren’t present for. You take it upon yourself as one of the only sober people to start picking up the stray cans and solo cups that had been scattered around the pool area and putting away any of the food that was still good. The sound of the sliding glass door opening caught your attention as you were cleaning up Steve’s kitchen. Eddie shut the door behind him, walking over to stand on the other side of the island.

“I was wondering where you ran off to,” he leaned on the counter top, propping his head in his hands with the dopiest grin.

“You’ve been slacking,” you tease as you place some dishes in the sink, “I think I’ve been cleaning for at least an hour now. Not doing a very good job at keeping tabs on me.”

“Okay, for the record,” he points a finger up and staggers a bit, “I could see you, and I wanted to stop you from cleaning. Buuuuuuuut, Robin told me you always clean up and get upset if anyone tries to stop you. So I figured I’d let you enjoy yourself.” He shrugged.

“I just respect Steve enough to not leave a mess. It is a little therapeutic in a way.” You move to stand closer to him, leaning against the edge of the counter perpendicular to him, arms just shy of touching. You watched as he fidgeted with a ring on his finger. “How is it going out there? It looked like Dustin and Gareth were passed out in their chairs.”

When he didn’t respond, you brought your attention up to meet his stare. His eyes were dark, the shine of the sun no longer bringing out the umber, now almost black under the warm light above him. They flickered as they stared into yours, back and forth like he was searching for an answer only you could give him. If you weren’t so acutely aware of your close proximity, you might not notice how he subtly leans closer, closer. You close your eyes.

“ED-DAYYYYYYYYYYY!”

The sudden noise was enough to make you jump almost out of your skin. You’re white knuckling the counter as you turn to see Dustin, Lucas, and Steve stumble inside, with Jane, Mike, and Max not far behind trying to help keep all three of them from falling over each other. 

“Jesus H. CHRIST, Henderson!” Eddie screeches, slapping the top of the counter. 

“Oh, there he is!” Dustin leans backwards, Jane holding him up, “Hey, guys, I found Eddie! He’s in here with his girlfriend! Oh shit where you guys in here suckin’ face? My bad my-”

“Okay, okay, come on lets get your shit together,” Eddie interrupts waving his hands around, “Or else you’re all sleeping on the floor.”

“I don’t wanna sleep on the floooor,” Steve whines like a child, throwing himself into Mike where they almost fall over.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have a bedroom here, dingus,” Robin walks backwards through the doorway, carrying a pair of feet with her. The feet belong to a very passed out Gareth, whose top half was being carried in by Jeff.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Eddie runs over to Gareth's side, picking him up and carrying him bridal style to the couch. You reel back as you watch him carry Gareth like he weighs nothing, his biceps flexing catching your attention. Damn, did it get hot in here?

You helped Robin get Steve up the stairs so she could put him to bed while the others got themselves situated. When you came down, you said your goodbyes to Mike, Will and Jane as they made their departure for the night. Max elected to stay with Lucas since she didn’t see well at night to drive, dragging him up to the spare bedroom. Gareth is still passed out on the couch, propped up with a towel under him in case he pukes. Jeff says he’s going to sit with him until he sobers up enough that he won’t ruin the interior of his new car.

Eddie got Dustin set up in another spare bedroom and made his way down the stairs. “God, my first day back and I can already tell nothing has changed.” He’s shaking his head, but the smile on his face gives him away.

“Are you usually the dad of the friend group?” You lean against the entryway wall, watching him as he walks over to you.

“How did you know?” He chuckled, putting up an arm and leaning into the doorway over you. The move was so smooth, and you felt the butterflies go straight from your stomach to between your legs. You sucked in a breath, “Oh, just a hunch.”

His eyes lock with yours for a moment, and his smile falters. He looks around for a moment, leaning over you to look into the living room, his chest pressing into you softly. Whatever he was looking for must not have been too important, bringing his attention back to you.

“So, I really hope I haven’t been reading into this wrong,” he says lowly, head nodding between the two of you, “‘cause I’ve been dying to do this all night.”

His hand cups your cheek as he leans in. He moves slowly, to give you an out if this isn’t what you want. But when you lean into him, he wastes no time closing the gap the rest of the way. His other hand moves from above you and lands on that spot on your neck and under your ear. His weight shifts, pressing you into the frame with his body and your hands to his chest, fisting the fabric to keep him in place. Your senses are flooded with dollar store detergent and his sweat after being out in the sun.

You never believed in that spark when you kissed someone before, but the way his plump, chapped lips move with yours has your body feeling like the 4th of July. And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, the taste of cheap beer mixes with the lemonade you were sipping earlier. He pulls away, just far enough to kiss you over and over and over and over amplified by the stickiness of your lip gloss that’s transferred to him. But you’re insatiable, and you chase him. Touch starved doesn’t even begin to touch it. 

His hands move from your face down to your hips, moving you from the doorway to the darkness of the small hallway. Just in time as you heard the sliding glass door open and shut, then the sound of Jeff plopping down in one of the recliners. Eddie didn’t give you time to dwell on anything other than him, pulling your hips flush into his and grinding against you. 

And, lord, you felt it. 

The small gasp you let out has Eddie smirking into your kiss. He breaks away, leaning into your neck to whisper in your ear. “I’ve had a long time to think about all the things I want to do to you,” he bites at your earlobe and you moan, clenching your thighs. 

“All the ways I want to touch you,” he kisses down your neck, “tease you. I bet you like being teased, don’t you?”

 “N-no,” you whisper with a shake of your head. A whimper falls from your lips as his teeth gently scrape over a spot on your neck. “Don’t wanna be teased.”

He hums, kissing back up your neck to your lips again. “Awe,” he chuckles, eyes meeting with yours again, heavy lidded and pupils blown out, “you just want me to ruin that pussy, don’t you?” 

Frantically nodding you press your lips back into his, but he pulls away leaving you to whine in frustration. “Easy, now, sweetheart. I’m just as eager as you, but I wanna do this right.” He grabs the skirt of your dress, pulling it up to get access to your legs. You don’t get the chance to protest before he’s picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. The hardness in his pants is pressing directly into your core where you’re sure your panties must be soaked. 

Not bothering to be stealthy Eddie carries you as fast as he can up the stairs. You can’t contain your giggles as he pushes you up against the door to his new bedroom. While stealing a few more kisses, he goes to grab the knob, but doesn’t get the chance when the door swings open behind you. He puts you down quickly to keep you from falling backwards, and you whip around to be met with a half awake Max.

“What the fuck,” she asks rubbing sleep from her eyes, “what’s going on?”

Eddie looks like a kicked puppy,  his jaw slack and eyebrows knit together in a pout.

“I thought you guys left?”

“What? No? It’s way too dark. You know I can’t drive at night,” she crosses her arms looking at him confused.

“Damn it,” he looks at the door to his right, “and I put Henderson in the extra room.”

“Sorry, Max,” you speak up, “he was just trying to figure out where he was sleeping tonight. You can go back to sleep. Good night!”

She eyes you suspiciously before wishing you a goodnight and closing the door. When you turn to look at Eddie, you see that he’s about to open the other bedroom door.

“Eddie, what are you doing,” you whisper yell. He hesitates before he reaches the door knob.

“I’m gonna get Henderson and put him in bed with Harrington.” He goes to grab the knob and you reach for his hand to stop him. He looks distressed, but you can’t help but laugh. It had only been a little over a year that you’d gone without any sexual contact with another person, but you could clearly tell that Eddie was struggling after going as long as he had with the opportunity dangling right in front of his face. 

“Can I make a suggestion before you start displacing people in their sleep?”

He nods, hopeful eyes on you.

“My apartment is like 10 minutes away,” you step closer to press yourself against him, “There’s a gas station on the way. We can stop and-”

Before you can finish he’s grabbing you by the middle and carrying you over his shoulder down the stairs and straight out the door, not bothering to close the front door behind him.

“Which car is yours?” He’s swinging you around playfully as he looks at all the cars lined up on the street and in the driveway.

“I’ll tell you, but we’re not going to get anywhere without my keys!” 

“Fuck!” He smacks your ass before placing you on the ground. “Where are they?”

“In my purse on the counter-”

He takes off, running through the front door and back faster than you think you’ve ever seen anyone move. Tossing your purse to you he follows you as you move to where you parked on the road, pulling out your keys and unlocking the door. 

“Eddie, hold on,” you giggle, pushing your butt into him in a futile attempt to get your door open. Your keys jingle as you try and get the right one into the lock to your apartment. Eddie’s hands were everywhere as he pressed himself further into you, kissing up and down your neck and shoulder. “It’s only going to take longer to get inside if you’re distracting me-hee~”

He relented with a whine, chin resting on your shoulder and hands lingering on your hips as he waited patiently. Once you finally opened the door you stepped in and flicked on a light, Eddie hot on your trail. When you turned around to face him, you were expecting to be met with his lust filled eyes, but you were surprised to find him looking around your apartment with wide eyes. You took the time to admire him again, much like you did earlier. He looked like he belonged there, like he fit with the cozy atmosphere you had cultivated since you moved in. He would have looked so out of place in the sterile white of your home with Henry. 

“It’s cute,” he says looking at some of the artwork you have hanging on the walls, “exactly what I was expecting.”

“Oh, so you were expecting me to take you back to my apartment?” You eye him with a smirk. He looks down at his feet before tilting his head to look at you.

“Only for the last four months.”

Chills run up your body. He’s been thinking about you, like…this, for 4 months.

“Only four months?” You step to him, craning your neck to look into his eyes. The pink on his cheeks more prominent this close.

“Well, sort of. Honestly been thinking about you since you sent me that letter about yourself, what you looked like. Again, you didn’t do yourself justice,” he leans down to kiss your nose, “But, I, uh, didn’t really start thinking about you until we got to talk for real.” His hands snaked around your waist, sliding down to grab handfuls of your ass. 

“Something about your voice,” he leaned in for a quick kiss, “hearing you laugh at my dumb jokes,” another kiss, “the way you say my name. “Hi Eddie.”” He mocks you, exaggerating the sultry inflection of your words. Smacking a hand on his chest, you both laugh, and he pulls you in closer. 

“Well I’ve been thinking about you longer,” you say as you pull on the hem of his shirt. His brows quirk up at you in surprise.

“Really? And I thought I was pushing my luck tonight. Was worried all our talking was just you being nice to me.”

“God, Eddie, you’ve been away for way too long if you couldn’t tell I’ve been flirting with you by now.”

“Hey,” he raises his hands defensively, “I’ve never gotten my hopes up about a girl flirting with me before, and I wasn’t about to start.”

It hurt your heart to hear him say that. Robin said Eddie wasn’t super popular in high school, and didn’t have the best luck in the dating department before he was incarcerated. Which was a shame because he’s such a sweet guy and deserves to feel wanted. The ache between your legs came back when you realized that you might get to be the first person ever to make him feel that way.

You lean up to kiss him again, lingering there for a moment before you take a step back. He leans in to chase you,but you keep taking steps back. When he opens his eyes, he sees the mischievous look on your face and smiles wildly. Just as you turn to take off to your room, he launches after you, making you squeal as he chases you down the short hallway. Once passed the threshold of your bedroom doorway he wrapped his arms around you, planting kisses all over your face. You giggled as he walked you to the edge of your bed, planting a kiss on your lips and guiding you down, down, until you were sat. 

The mood shifted from playful to hot the moment his tongue slipped out in search of yours. His hands were suddenly on your knees, bunching and shifting the fabric of your dress. The metal of his rings was cold against the hot skin of your thighs. His fingertips felt rough to the touch compared to your smooth skin, the sensation lingering as his hand crept closer and closer to where you wanted him, needed him. 

“Holy shit,,” he inhaled sharply though his nose when his fingers reached the fabric of your panties,“This is happening.” An incredulous chuckle left his lips, and he let his fingers loop the waistband, snapping it back to your skin. 

Just when you thought he was going to take the plunge, his hands continued to creep up your body. His touch was feather light, gliding up your sides, slowly, slowly, until you felt him right under your rib cage, below the cups of your bra. He hesitated for a moment, and you weren’t sure he even realized that he had stopped kissing you. The low light of the moon shining through your blinds illuminated him just enough that you could see him swallow. Where had all that big talk gone from earlier.

“Eddie.”

His shift to yours and you hold his stare. Your hands move down your own body, gliding over his hands from the top of your dress, down, until you grab the hem of the dress yourself. His grip tightens as you pull the fabric up, up, exposing your legs, your stomach, chest, until it’s up and over your head. You toss the offending garment to the floor, and meet Eddie’s eyes again. Leaning back on one hand, you grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him in so his lips just ghosted over yours.

“I thought you’d been thinking all this time about what you wanna do to me?”

That was all exactly what was needed to break Eddie of his nerves. One of his tattooed hands flew from your ribs to your chin, fingers squishing your cheeks to purse your lips. He looked down at you over his bottom lashes, lips curling into a devilish smile. 

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise to be gentle. Tell me if you need me to stop. Got it?”

You shook your head the best you could in his grip, your thighs rubbing together at his shift in demeanor. His lips were on yours in an instant, hand slipping from your face, down your neck, shoulder, before slipping behind your back. He shifted his weight, placing a leg between yours so his knee was fully pressing against your heat. His other hand snaked around your side, meeting his other hand. In one swift motion the constricting hold your bra had on you was gone, and the weight of your chest shifted as the garment lay flimsily against you. You shimmied your shoulders, lifting one arm out of the strap, and then the other. Eddie grabbed it, flinging it off of where it still covered you as if it personally offended him.

His mouth was on you again. Starting at your lips, moving down your neck, nipping, biting all the way to the swell of your breast. His hands make their move, wasting no time as they began to grope and pull. He took a nipple in one hand and did an experimental roll, the sensation causing you to arch into him, and your hips roll into his knee, hitting that hard spot just right against your clit. Your eyes cross for a moment, and you barely get time to recover before he’s taking your other nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue in tandem with the rolls of the other. All the sensations creating a perfect symphony of pleasure that you hadn’t felt in years, if ever.

You don’t hold back as moans fall from your lips, and they only egg Eddie on more. His mouth releases your nipple with a wet pop causing you to whine out in protest, only made worse when his whole body pulls away to stand at the edge of your bed. Even in the mostly dark room, you’re still able to enjoy the show as he strips himself of his shirt.

His biceps flexing already had you feeling hot, but your breath hitches in your chest as you take in Eddie’s bare chest. Some of the tattoos you recognize from the picture of him and Steve, but there are new pieces that fill in a good majority of his chest and parts of his stomach. He’s tone, even more so now than in his earlier twenties. Your head spins as you follow his happy trail down to where he’s undoing his belt. When he pushes his jeans down to the ground, your jaw hits the floor when you see the tightly pitched tent in his boxers. 

When he clears his throat, you quickly shut your jaw and look at him with embarrassment. “See something you like,” he smirks. Your head nods dumbly, still in awe at the man before you. He rubs his hand over his stubble shyly, curling into his shoulder at your admission.

However, his bashfulness didn’t last long as he leaned forward, grabbed you by the calves and pulled you until your ass was at the edge of the mattress, making you lose your balance and fall flat on the bed. He holds your legs up, moving to stand between them. Leaning forward he kissed you on the lips, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled away. Then, in a move you weren’t expecting, he dropped on his knees and began kissing on your inner thighs.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked as you propped yourself on your elbows, watching him make little marks on your skin.

“What do you mean?” he doesn’t look up, only switching to your other leg as he moved closer to your clothed slit.

“Sh-shit,” you whimpered as his mouth landed on your mound, licking over where you’d soaked the center of your panties, “w-hat are you doing down there?”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he looked up at you from between your legs, “I’m going to eat this wonderful meal that you’ve so kindly warmed up for me.” Before you know it, he’s biting and pulling the material away from your cunt, leaning back and pulling away just enough to pull them off. 

And then he’s on you, wasting no time getting his mouth on you. A hand flew straight to the curls on the top of his head as he began in ministrations. His flattened tongue licked a slow stripe all the way from your hole to your clit, stopping on the bud to flick his tongue back and forth. 

“H-ooooohh my god,” your words came out breathy, and you subconsciously ground your hips into this tongue as he lit the fire in you. “Eddie- t-that, ah, don’t stop!”

He hummed into you as his tongue slid down to your hole, wasting no time plunging his tongue inside. Your breath hitches as the breach, curses falling from your lips as your head lulls back. He pulls away for a moment, a thumb gliding to your clit to keep you going as he speaks.

“Baby, has anyone ever eaten you out before?”

“N-no-o, ffffuck, never,” you stutter out, lifting your head to look at him again. You were met with an expression that you could only describe as wild excitement. His eyes practically had hearts in them.

“Well, shit, I was just going to get you warmed up for me, but I’m definitely gonna make you cum on my face.”

Your face was flush red with embarrassment. Henry never did anything like this with you. He barely made you cum in anyway, leaving you to get yourself off on your own. So the idea of cumming on Eddie’s face only stoked the flames in you more. 

His mouth wrapped around your clit once again, sucking and licking, making you cry his name with the remaining breath in your lungs. When you didn’t think it could get better, you felt the roughness of Eddie’s finger at your entrance, pushing in, and working you to the knuckle. The curling motion of his pointer was like throwing gas on the flame. Losing the strength in your arms, you flopped onto the bed with a gasp, hands shooting to grip in Eddie’s short curls. “Oh, oh fuck — ah!” 

Eddie let out a small moan when you pulled. He was smirking against your mound, eyes watching you wriggle and writhe before him. You were so responsive to all his touches and he was sure that he was leaving a stain on the inside of boxers from how much you were turning him on. He needed you. Bad. But he wanted to make you melt under him first. So he added another finger and could feel the way you clenched around him, how your whole body was going stiff, that he was so close to getting you right where he wanted you. 

His name spewed from your mouth between some curses when the flame finally took over and had you seeing white. You clenched your thighs around his head, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. Broken gasps and cries barely left your lips before breaking out in a pant, chest heaving as you come down from the high. 

Eddie stood from where he was between you, taking the moment to grab the condoms that he shoved in his back pocket earlier in the car. Taking one and setting on the night stand, he turned to find you watching him. You already looked so fucked out, but there was anticipation in your eyes as he approached you. Taking his time to tease you, he pulled his boxers down slowly, watching your eyes widen when it sprung out and smacked against his stomach. He wanted to say something funny at the look of concern on your face, but all that came out was, “It’ll fit, promise.”

Wordlessly you nodded. Watching Eddie saunter over to you as he put the condom on felt like watching a predator about to devour his prey. Once he was back where he belonged, he leaned down to kiss you, hand on your cheek. The lingering taste of your own release on his lips. There was hunger, passion in his kiss. No words, and yet it felt like he was pouring his heart out to you. 

You hummed in surprise as you felt the fat head of his cock nudging at your entrance, begging for permission. You rolled your hips with a small whimper against his lips. 

“Oh, fu-u-uck,” the words stuttered from his mouth as he finally pushed himself inside. Your breath caught at the feeling of him splitting you open, a new heat igniting in your body. Even with the condom you could feel every bump and curve, how hard he was as he pushed himself into you. When he was fully inside, opened your eyes and were met with the prettiest sight; Eddie’s face mere inches from yours, looking strained, yet relieved, all just from being inside of you. 

While he was trying to regain his composure, you were starting to get impatient under him. You start to grind against him, and his hands are instantly at your hips to stop you. “Ah— hold on sweetheart, I’m afraid I’m gonna bust too quick if you do that.”

You pout your lip at him, continuing to roll against him. The sureness he had when he had his mouth on you dissipated as he reveled in your movements. He dropped his head, forehead resting on your shoulder, his little noises right in your ear went straight to your core, “Shit, that’s right—oh use my big cock to fuck yourself. Fuck you feel so g-g-good.”

It didn’t take long of your movements to get him to finally snap, pulling back and trusting into you with a loud smack. You arched your back at the intensity of his movements, arms wrapping around  him as he sets a relentless pace. Each thrust into your cunt was punctuated by your quick moans as the air was being knocked out of you over and over.

His grip on your hips loosened, weight shifting as his hands snake under your arms, gripping your shoulders to amplify each thrust. When his eyes meet yours they’re wild, feral as he’s lost himself in his own pleasure. It was like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, another person’s carnal need for you. 

Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train. It was back arching, toe curling, open mouth but nothing comes out pleasure that you’ve only read about in the dirty novels you’d read alone in the bathtub. You’re pretty sure your eyes crossed at one point. His eyes are locked on your face, watching it contort in pleasure as he feels you fluttering around him. He wants to hold out, but it’s too much, and his movements become erratic. Soon after he stills his movements, hips flush with your core and moans into your ear. You can feel the way he twitches inside of you, even with the condom.

Body going slack on top of you, his weight was comforting as your chests rose and fell in rhythm. His grip on your shoulders shifts to around your rib cage and pulls you into him in an embrace so he drag you up the bed with him. The two of you lay there silently, and you stare into his big brown eyes as they shine in the moonlight. Your heart swells with fondness as he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon. His stare is so intense you have to tuck your head in his chest. He wraps an arm around you, tucking his chin on the top of your head.

You didn’t want the moment to end. In less than 24 hours, this man with his arms around you has made you feel more wanted than you ever had in the entirety of your marriage. Deep down, you knew there was a possibility that this was all that it was going to be. And over the last few months, you told yourself that you would be okay if this was all he wanted. But now that you’re finally here, in the moment, you’re starting to realize that this man could ruin your life.

Gently pushing away from him, Eddie gives you a confused look as you climb out of the bed, picking up his clothes. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” He sits up from the bed cautiously.

“Oh,” his question caught you off guard, “well, I, uh, when Henry and I would, you know, he would have me wash his clothes after…”

Eddie reels back, looking at you with shock, “What the hell? I thought you were his wife, not his maid.”

You tilt your head, “What do you mean? All wives do this for their husbands? Not that you’re my husband, I just--it’s just out of habit.”

He’s got himself on the edge of the bed, leaning forward he reaches out for you, tattooed hand waiting for you to take it. You look between it and his face, before placing his clothes in a neat pile on the nightstand. When you take his hand in yours, he pulls you into him, taking your breath away with a kiss, pulling you down into the bed with him once again.

“See, I thought you were getting my clothes to kick me out,” he whispers as you nestle into his side. You shook your head, smiling against his tattooed chest.

“No, definitely not. You’re going to be lucky if I let you leave now,” you giggle as you trace the lines that cover his body. His chest jumps, and when you look up at him he’s smiling from ear to ear.

August 12th, 1995

Roses covered every shop, cart, and building at the fairgrounds today. The sun was beating down on you hard. It was practically boiling out, making you wish you could peel off the little clothing you decided to wear. The numerous bodies moving around you wasn’t helping, along with the endless food trucks putting out heat as the air filled with the smell of steak fries, hot dogs, and the food you were looking forward to the most: funnel cake.

Standing off to the side in the shade holding Eddie’s sketch book, you kept your eyes on the line, watching your boyfriend stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of Hawkins citizens. Even though you told him you could wait in line yourself, he told you to find a nice spot for the two of you to enjoy your food out of the sun.

When you found a little spot in the grass under a tree, you waved to him to show where you were. He gave you a thumbs up, so you took that as the okay to take your seat. Just before you do, you hear some yelling coming from a few feet away.

“Mrs.Creel! Mrs.Creel!”

A group of your students from this last years class ran up to you, and you were suddenly very aware of how little clothing you were wearing.

“Oh, hi kids,” you greeted, adjusting yourself to hide a little skin. The kids didn’t seem to care much as they talked to you about their summers and how excited they were to be moving up to the eighth grade.

“Why can’t you be our teacher again next year?” Cindy asks.

“Yeah, I have Mr.Rupert this year and he’s so old and boring,” Suzy groans.

You laughed at their words, but felt a tug at your heart from their kindness. You hadn’t even noticed that Eddie was approaching until all four sets eyes widened, looking just behind you. When you turn around, you quickly take some of the load off of Eddie as he juggles your food and drinks.

“Woah,” you hear Collin say. You have to stifle your giggle as you realize that these kids probably didn’t expect boring Mrs.Creel to be with a guy like the one kissing her on the temple.

“Eddie,” you say, turning back to the group, “these are some of the kids from my class last year. Kids, this is my boyfriend, Eddie.”

Their jaws drop as their suspicions are confirmed. Eddie gives them a friendly hello, and you notice the two girls looking at each other. 

“Wait,” Paul interrupts, “Your boyfriend? I thought it was “Mrs” Creel?”

Oh lord. You were hoping that you wouldn’t have to explain much since you’d have a new class this year, but you forget how observant middle schoolers can be.

“You’re correct, Paul. I am married, but,” you look up to Eddie, who gives you a nod, “But, I won’t be much longer. Hopefully that is.”

“Oh, okay,” Paul shrugs.

“What are we supposed to call you then?” Suzy chimes.

“I’m going to be going back to my maiden name, but you can call me Mrs.Creel if you want to. I know it can be confusing-”

“It’s okay,” Cindy insists, “we’ll just tell everyone that they can suck it up and call you by the name you want to be called.”

After the kids leave and you and Eddie stuff your faces, Eddie tugs you close, kissing the top of your head, his lips moving against your scalp as he talks.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I told you before that your students didn’t think you were lame.”

You sucked in a breath and laughed, “Yeah, I guess you were right. I’ve always been hard on myself when it comes to my students, though.”

“You’re hard on yourself with everything, Sweetheart.” He takes your hand in his before you can pull away, already getting used to your antics when he teases you.

As the sun finally starts to set, the two of you start to make your way back to your car. Eddie has proven himself to be quite the gentleman in the last few weeks. He opens your car door for you once you’ve gotten Teddie Munson, the giant teddy bear that Eddie one for you throwing darts at balloons, safely placed in your back seat. Once inside, he jogs to the passenger door and jumps in. The drive home was full of laughter and conversation, only winding down as you approached Steve’s place.

This had become your least favorite part of the night. Eddie had forgotten that his newly assigned probation officer was going to come and visit him the day after he was released. So when he was at your apartment instead of the address listed on his paperwork, he almost got thrown back in jail on violation. Thankfully, between you and Steve talking with him, he let Eddie off with but with one stipulation. 

So Eddie had to stay at Steve’s house for the next six months as punishment. It wasn’t the worst thing, as you were welcomed by Steve to stay whenever you liked. But, with how vocal the two of you liked to be in bed, you could really only get away with it when Steve and Robin were both gone. And it was only going to be more difficult once the school year started.

“Hey, maybe if I’m really good, proving that I’m lookin’ for work and all that, maybe he’ll let me off my punishment early,” he shrugs as you walk into Steve’s, night bag in tow.

“Maybe,” you lament, “I wouldn’t do anything to risk it, though. You may piss him off if you even ask.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans as you follow him up the stairs, “If I ever see Rick on the street he’s fucking dead.”

You just shake your head. He always says something to that effect whenever his probation prevents him from spending more time with you.

“I wish you could move in here. It would make things so much easier.”

That was the other thing he said.

“Sorry, babe,” you shrugged, grabbing your night clothes. You stood by the bedroom door as he rummaged around for something to wear, “I can’t afford to break my lease. Besides, you might get bored of me and kick me to the curb. It’s probably for the best that we don’t rush into anything.”

You don’t even see him coming when he grabs your arms, lightly pushing you into the wall, lips pressing firmly into yours. You hum against his lips, and when he pulls away, he looks at you with those eyes. Big, brown eyes that you wish you could stare into forever. 

“I’ll agree to the no rushing, but you told me yourself that I was gonna be hard pressed to get you to let me go. I’m keeping the same deal on my end. Only way I’m letting you leave is if I royally fuck up or I’m on my death bed. Got it, Sweetheart?”

Nodding, you pull him into you again, hoping that your lips could tell him how you feel without having to speak the words. That you were scared, nervous to give yourself to someone so wholly again. The pain of losing him would probably do you in. But with how everything felt so natural with Eddie, so not forced, that you wanted to at least try.

thanks for reading!

[httpsdana]

Promt 6 where kenan tries to make his friend reader jealous by getting a girlfriend and hanging out with her when he is with reader until reader actually finds someone who she thinks he cares for her. Kenan sees her with the guy and confesses it to her

What Could've Been~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

6-“Maybe if I had told you how I felt sooner, none of this would’ve happened,”

Kenan wasn’t sure when it started—the subtle pang of jealousy whenever y/n mentioned hanging out with other guys or the way his heart raced when she laughed a little too much at someone else’s joke. But instead of admitting his feelings, he made a mistake.

He got a girlfriend.

It wasn’t serious. She was sweet, pretty even, but she wasn’t her. He told himself it was just a way to get over y/n or maybe to test if she cared about him the same way. So, he brought her everywhere. To game nights, parties, even casual coffee runs where y/n used to have him all to herself.

y/n noticed, of course. She wasn’t blind. And with each visit, each laugh he directed at her, something in her cracked.

“Kenan, does she have to be here every time?” she asked one evening when she'd invited him to hang out, hoping for just a little of the old normalcy.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he replied casually, leaning back in his chair like it didn’t matter. “What’s the big deal?”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Forget it. Do what you want.”

He should’ve stopped. The pain in her voice wasn’t lost on him, but his pride wouldn’t let him admit it. Maybe he thought if he kept this up, she'd eventually say something. But the day she walked into the party with another guy by her side, laughing and holding his arm, Kenan realized he’d gone too far.

Mateo. That was his name.

Kenan hated him immediately, though he couldn’t find a valid reason why. Mateo was polite, funny, and, most infuriatingly, he made y/n happy. Kenan watched them from across the room, laughing like she hadn’t in weeks, and something ugly clawed at his chest.

Later, when he found her alone in the kitchen grabbing drinks, he cornered her.

“So,” he said, leaning against the counter, “Mateo, huh?”

y/n glanced at him, her smile fading. “Yeah. He’s great.”

“He seems... fine,” Kenan said, his voice tight. “But you don’t really like him, do you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just that he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Maybe he’s not. But at least he treats me like I’m important,” she shot back, slamming the fridge shut. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

That stung. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, stepping closer.

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “You parade your girlfriend around like you’re trying to prove something. Do you have any idea how humiliating that’s been for me? Watching you act like I don’t matter anymore?”

“You think I don’t care about you?” he snapped, his frustration bubbling over.

“Do you?” she countered, her voice trembling. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.”

The silence was deafening, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Kenan sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Maybe if I had told you how I felt sooner, none of this would’ve happened,” he muttered, his voice breaking.

y/n froze, staring at him with wide eyes. “What did you just say?”

“I’m in love with you,” he admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. But I was scared, okay? Scared you wouldn’t feel the same. So, I screwed everything up.”

Her lips parted in shock, and then anger flashed in her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What?” he asked, taken aback.

“You say you love me, but instead of telling me, you decided to get a girlfriend and rub it in my face?” she said, her voice rising. “Do you have any idea how much that hurt, Kenan? How many nights I spent wondering why I wasn’t enough for you?”

“I thought—” he began, but she cut him off.

“You thought what? That I’d magically figure it out while you flirted with someone else right in front of me?” she shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “You’re such a coward.”

The word hit him like a slap. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I am. But I swear, I never meant to hurt you.”

y/n looked away, swallowing hard. “I don’t know if I can just forget all of this, Kenan. You broke my heart.”

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life fixing it if you let me,” he said, stepping closer but not daring to touch her just yet. “Please. I love you. Only you.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, finally, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with pain and something else—hope.

“You have a lot to make up for,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I’ll do whatever it takes.”

When he reached for her hand, she didn’t pull away. But when he leaned down to kiss her, she pulled away gently.

"break up with your girlfriend first. she doesn't deserve this" y/n murmured, making Kenan smile at her thoughtfulness

It wasn’t perfect, not yet. But it was a start.

[lesbojournals]

Poly!Marauders x Slytherin!Reader

part one two three five

One time at dinner became two, became three, became…now this is the norm? As you made your way to the Great Hall for yet another dinner with the boys you passed Lucius, who sneered at you.

“What a waste of a Slytherin, hanging around those idiots.” He commented, and Narcissa hit him.

Before she could make a comment in return (to possibly spare your feelings) Sirius appeared from the hall in front of you. “Lucy bothering you, dolly?” He joked, half serious. 

“We were just leaving.” Narcissa promised, and dragged Lucius away before anymore bad blood could be thrown.

With that, Sirius grabbed your hand and guided you down to the Great Hall where Remus and James awaited.

“There she is!” James proclaimed, bringing a smile to your face. 

“Hello, dove.” Remus tilted his head slightly in admiration. 

You sat across from them and next to Sirius, who sat next to Lily. 

“Hey!” She waved at you. “Are you coming to the party tonight?”

You turned to the boys in question, and Sirius answered. “We were just about to invite you, actually.”

You reminisced on the last time you dare drink with Gryffindors and you shuddered. “I’m in, but I’m not taking shots with James again.”

James faked a sad face, blinking puppy eyes at you, while Remus just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“We’ll see about that,” Sirius commented. “Jamie can be pretty convincing after a few drinks.”

You joked and conversed with the boys and the other Gryffindors at the table for a while, and eventually as the lights grew dim you decided to part ways so you could change out of your uniform and into proper party attire.

At the Slytherin common room, you sprinted to your dorm to get ready. You perfected your make up and put up your hair in a way that hopefully said ‘trying, but not too hard’. You couldn’t help but frown at Lucius and Snape when you entered the common room again. Without Narcissa, they were like wild beasts.

“What’re you all dressed up for?” Snape pried, sitting up from his seat on the couch. This perked Lucius’ attention as well.

“Party.” You replied, uninterested. 

“With those buffoons? You know they’re just pranking you, right? Tell me you aren’t that daft and think they’re actually crushing on you the way you are them.” Lucius looked you up and down with judgment, and a raised eyebrow.

That couldn’t be true…right? They liked you. However, you were the most gullible out of your housemates. And Slytherin was the rival house. And you weren’t Regulus, who did have the protection of his brother.

You were friends with Regulus, that had to count for some, right?

You shook your head at Lucius. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“They wouldn’t pull a prank on you? Nothing’s stopped them from pulling pranks on me.” Snape instigated.

You scoffed. “Because it’s horrific being around you, Sna-Severus.” You had to stop yourself. Were you seriously about to last-name him?

He noticed, and got up to stand close to you. “You’re turning into one of them, and you don’t even realize it’s going to backfire on you.”

He spit on your shoes. “Pathetic.”

You grabbed your wand from your pocket, as did Severus, about to do god knows what when your head snapped at the sound of a “HEY!” coming from the entrance to the boy’s dorm.

Regulus rushed to be in between you two, giving Severus the stink eye as he pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” He looked between the two of you.

Your eyes started to water, and Severus smirked at the sight that he’d gotten under your skin.

“Ask the traitor.”

The words struck you, and with big tears about to bubble you darted from the common room, Regulus hot on your tail. 

“Hey, hey!” Regulus grabbed your shoulder, catching up to you. “What’s going on?”

You shook your head negatively and sniffled. “It’s not worth it.”

Regulus looked you up and down sympathetically and then looked behind you. 

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get you to the Gryffindor common room before Filch catches us. We can take the long way so you can take a few minutes.”

You nodded, and let Regulus guide you. Were you a traitor? Were the boys really pranking you?

Fire of anger started to fill you, unbeknownst to Regulus, and you decided you were going to drink your heart away and give James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin a piece of your mind.