#he knew exactly what she meant too he just wasn’t risking that

[eclipsewxtch]

TWELVE EXES? whore 💀 in three years no less, slut 🏃‍➡️ he was introducing people to his parents every holiday, labour's day and he was there "ma I swear this one's the one🥰" help 😭 his parents must be so tired of his ass

vance when they said they wanted you to make them breathless it wasn't that what they mean... robin don't hook up at all?? damn 🙏🫥

oh no he didn’t introduce them to HIS parents, but he consistently got introduced to theirs😭 he was nottt bringing them home to his ma he knew deep in his heart of hearts that would not be a good idea😭

[rizzanon]

02 | A QUITTER?

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The words hung in the air, heavy and absolute.

Bruce’s brows furrowed, his usually calm expression giving way to faint confusion. “You’re… quitting?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, silence filled the cavernous Batcave, save for the faint hum of the Batcomputer. He studied you, his piercing blue eyes narrowing slightly as though trying to read your mind. “Why?” he asked finally, his voice measured, almost clinical.

You froze, caught off guard. Why? Why had you suddenly decided to quit? Sixteen-year-old you wouldn’t have even entertained the idea. This life was everything she had worked for—every patrol, every bruise, every sleepless night fueled by a desperate need for validation. Why had the words come so easily to you now?

Your mind reeled, racing to string together an explanation that made sense. After a long pause, you took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Because… you were right,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “This life… it was never meant for me. I was just too dumb to realize it before. But now, I do.”

The admission felt strange, almost foreign. Sixteen-year-old you wouldn’t have said that—not to him, not to anyone. And yet, as the words left your mouth, they felt right.

Bruce didn’t respond immediately. He just watched you, his gaze intense, cold, and calculating. You could almost feel him inspecting every inch of you, every nuance in your expression, searching for cracks in your resolve or signs of insincerity. The weight of his scrutiny was almost unbearable, and you found yourself holding your breath.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned back slightly and nodded. “If that’s what you’ve decided,” he said simply, his tone unreadable. Without another word, he turned back to the Batcomputer, his eyes scanning the reports as if the conversation had never happened.

You blinked, stunned. That easy? He really just let you go like that?

For a moment, a flicker of relief passed through you, but it was quickly overshadowed by another thought: Just how much did he not want you to take up the Batgirl mantle? The thought gnawed at you, but you shoved it down, forcing yourself to nod.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked back toward the staircase, your footsteps echoing in the vast space.

As you ascended, you couldn’t help but glance back once, but Bruce didn’t move, his attention fixed on the screen. You pressed your lips together and forced yourself to keep going.

Bruce heard your footsteps fading up the stairs, each one echoing through the cavern like a countdown. He stared at the Batcomputer, his hands resting motionless on the console. But his eyes weren’t scanning the reports anymore.

He couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder as the clock door slid shut behind you. His expression hardened, his brows furrowing deeply.

Something about this felt… wrong. Letting you walk away like that—it felt final, like a line had been drawn in the sand. A line he couldn’t cross.

You’d said you were quitting because the life wasn’t meant for you. Bruce should be relieved that you were no longer putting yourself on the line, no longer risking your life for the sake of crime-fighting.

But now, it was as if he was watching you slip through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Should he have said something? Say what exactly? That you shouldn’t quit being Batgirl? That he wanted you in his this life?

Bruce clenched his jaw and forced himself to look back at the screen, willing the unease in his chest to go away. He told himself it was for the best. He already long knew that this path was never meant for you.

And yet…

A faint, nagging voice whispered at the back of his mind, telling him he’d made a mistake. That letting you go like this wasn’t just about the Batgirl mantle—it was about you. About him. About the growing distance between the two of you.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on it, not now. Pushing the thoughts aside with the same discipline he applied to every other personal distraction, Bruce returned his focus to his work.

But that unease lingered, a heavy weight in his chest that no amount of reports or missions could quite shake.

“Richard,” Damian began, his tone flat and serious. “What does it mean when a girl cuts her hair short?”

The fast-food restaurant buzzed with the usual cacophony of clinking trays and murmured conversations. Damian sat stiffly across from Dick, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed in a way that made it clear he’d rather be anywhere else.

Dick, mid-bite of his burger, froze. Slowly, he put the burger down, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. Then, with a sly grin, he leaned forward. “Why’re you asking? Is there someone who caught your eye, little D? Someone from school, maybe?”

Damian scowled, his cheeks tinging slightly pink. “Do not be absurd. This is not about me.”

Dick chuckled, brushing crumbs off his hands. “Oh, so it’s not about you. But you want my expertise on the matter? Man, I didn’t know you valued my opinion so much.”

“I don’t,” Damian snapped, his glare intensifying. “But you’re a certified idiot when it comes to women, so your insight into their ridiculous behavior might be useful.”

“Ouch.” Dick placed a hand over his heart, feigning injury. “And here I thought we were bonding.”

“We’re not,” Damian replied flatly, though his posture shifted in discomfort.

At that moment, Tim approached the table, balancing a tray piled high with burgers and fries. He slid into the booth beside Dick, setting the tray down with a thud.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked, popping a fry into his mouth.

“Damian here wants to know why a girl would cut her hair short,” Dick said, his grin widening. “And apparently, I’m the expert on ‘ridiculous behavior.’”

Tim raised an eyebrow at Damian, who was now scowling at both of them. “Uh… okay. Who are we talking about?”

“It’s about… (name),” Damian muttered.

The lighthearted teasing immediately stalled. Tim and Dick exchanged a quick glance, their expressions shifting to something more serious.

Dick, however, quickly recovered, leaning back in his seat. “Nah, no way. (name) wouldn’t cut her hair. She’s been growing it out for years. You’re making this up.”

“I am not,” Damian snapped, crossing his arms. “You’ll see for yourselves later if you’re too thick-headed to believe me.”

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Dick said, grabbing a fry. “Second, I don’t know, man. She’s always been pretty attached to her hair. Like, she used to freak out if even half an inch got trimmed too short when she was younger.”

Damian scoffed audibly, narrowing his eyes at Dick. “Tsk. It’s not just a trim, Grayson. She cut her hair to her shoulders.” He said the word shoulders like it was a personal affront. “And it looks ridiculous.”

Dick frowned immediately. “Don’t say that, Damian,” he chided, but then his voice trailed off as his mind wandered. Shoulders? That was… really short.

His brow furrowed slightly as he thought about it. Had you really cut your hair? You were always so particular about it. He remembered vividly the offhanded comment you made years ago about how you liked your hair long because it made you feel elegant, pretty—like yourself.

Wait, years ago?

That sinking feeling began to gnaw at him. Sure, people changed their preferences all the time, but this felt… odd. Why now? Why so drastic?

“Grayson?” Damian’s sharp tone cut into his thoughts. “Are you malfunctioning, or have I rendered you speechless for once?”

“Huh?” Dick blinked, refocusing on the youngest Wayne.

“Useless,” Damian muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “I should have known better than to seek advice from you.”

Dick snapped out of it, shooting Damian a half-hearted glare. “Hey, you came to me, remember? And cutting hair isn’t ridiculous; it’s just a personal choice. People grow, Damian. Maybe she just… wanted a change.”

Damian raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Wanted a change? That’s the best you can come up with? Tt. I thought you were supposed to be insightful.”

“Okay, first of all,” Dick said, pointing at him with a fry, “you’re lucky I don’t throw this at you. And second, you’re the one acting all worked up about her hair. I’m just trying to figure out why you even care.”

“I don’t care,” Damian replied curtly. “I simply have standards, unlike you.”

“Oh, trust me, buddy, we know your standards are very high.” Dick smirked. “For someone who claims not to care, you’re putting a lot of energy into this.”

Damian glared, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I will not waste further time explaining myself to a fool.”

“Love you too, Dami,” Dick said with a cheeky grin, earning an eye roll from the younger boy.

Tim, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “Alright, so… are we just going to sit here debating haircuts, or are we going to eat?”

“Good idea,” Dick said, popping a fry into his mouth. But the momentary distraction didn’t stop his mind from circling back to you.

Why did you cut your hair? Was it really just a preference change? Maybe.

Damian’s voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts again. “Grayson, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Staring into space like a dim-witted cow.”

Dick sighed, shoving a fry into his mouth. “Great talk, Damian. Really helpful.”

“Likewise,” Damian muttered, clearly unimpressed.

But Dick was already tuning him out. He needed to check in with you later. He heard you had patrol tonight—or at least that’s what Barbara had mentioned. Wait, why didn’t you tell him that yourself?

Whatever. He’d figure it out. If you were on patrol, he’d just join you and ask about that then. That is, if Damian doesn’t insist later on being his patrol partner…

Maybe it was nothing…

Tim sat in the booth, idly picking at a fry as his mind wandered. He’d been the one to steer the conversation away from your haircut, but now he couldn’t help but think about what Damian had said. You cut your hair? That didn’t sound like you at all.

Then again, what did Tim really know? It wasn’t like the two of you were close. Despite living in the same manor for the past three—almost four—years, there had always been this… distance between you.

He frowned, resting his chin on his hand. It hadn’t always been that way. He remembered the earlier days, when both you and him were just starting out. Back then, you used to ask him the most ridiculous questions about cases and missions—questions that made him pause and wonder if you were even paying attention to the briefing.

“What do you mean, ‘How do you know which lead to follow?’” Tim had asked once, incredulous. He’d given you a look, that signature are you serious expression he reserved for when someone asked something truly baffling. Then, as always, he ended up solving the issue himself, bypassing the need to answer you at all.

At the time, it was mildly annoying but manageable. He figured you were just trying to find your footing. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal. But gradually, the number of times you came to him for help lessened. At first, Tim thought it was progress, that you were finally figuring things out on your own.

But no.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that your work was slipping. You’d miss key details, overlook evidence, or focus on the wrong leads entirely. And every time, it was Tim who ended up fixing it behind the scenes, covering for your mistakes before they could turn a case—or worse, a mission—into a disaster.

He hadn’t minded at first. But as it kept happening, as he kept watching you barrel forward with that same stubborn, hard-headed determination, something shifted.

Tim’s frustration grew. He started to wonder why you were even in this line of work. If you couldn’t handle the basics, what were you doing risking your life out there? Of course, he never said it out loud. He wasn’t that cruel, and he knew voicing those thoughts would probably lead to a fight neither of you wanted.

But still, it gnawed at him. That unspoken tension built over time, creating the invisible wall that now sat between you. He’d distanced himself on purpose, convinced that staying out of your way was better for the both of you.

But was it?

Tim sighed, pushing his tray of fries away as Damian and Dick bickered in the background. Now, the idea of you cutting your hair had wormed its way into his thoughts, and he couldn’t shake it.

You cut your hair.

It wasn’t about the haircut itself—it wasn’t about aesthetics or style. It was about what it represented. Something had changed. Had you?

And while Tim told himself he didn’t care, deep down, a small part of him wondered if he’d made a mistake keeping you at arm’s length all this time.

“Hold up, Babs, why exactly am I needed at the Batcave tonight again?” Stephanie said, twisting the tool in her hand to tighten a small screw.

She sat at Barbara’s clocktower, absentmindedly flicking through her phone while doing a small repair on one of her gadgets. She was content, for the moment at least, doing something mindless and waiting for whatever task Barbara would assign her for the night.

But when Barbara called her name and asked her to suit up for the night, Stephanie couldn’t help but frown.

Barbara sighed, her voice a little tired but still managing to hold a calm tone. “Tonight, we’re a little short-handed, Steph.”

“A little short-handed?” Stephanie repeated, letting out a disbelieving scoff. She glanced up at Barbara, clearly unimpressed. “How can it be short-handed when she’s around?”

Barbara knew who Stephanie meant by “she”. Why? Because you used to grab every mission or patrol you could, like you were always hungry for action, hungry for validation. There had always been this one-sided animosity between you and the blonde—more so you toward her. And it wasn’t like Stephanie was oblivious to the reason why.

It was because she’s Batgirl too. When Barbara and Dick allowed her to don the cowl during the events after Bruce’s “death,” Stephanie had been given the opportunities you wanted for yourself. Barbara knew that too, but she had chosen not to intervene, thinking that the animosity you felt would die down after a while.

Well, it did. But not in the way anyone expected.

Barbara adjusted her glasses as she leaned back in her chair. “(Name)’s not around tonight.”

Stephanie raised an eyebrow, confused by the simple statement. “Well that’s a first. Why not?”

Barbara hesitated, the words slow to come. “She… she quit.”

“…..”

“…..”

“WHAT??!?”

Barbara didn’t flinch at the outburst, her calm demeanor masking her own lingering confusion.

“Wait, wait,” Stephanie said, waving her hands in the air like she was trying to physically stop Barbara from speaking nonsense. “She quit? Are we talking about the same person? (Name) Wayne? The same person who basically begged to be Batgirl?”

Barbara shrugged slightly. “Bruce told me earlier today. Said she came into the cave, and told him she was done, and walked out. That’s all I know.”

“That’s all you know?” Stephanie repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. She shook her head, scoffing. “That’s insane. She’s gotta be pulling some kind of dramatic move. Like, I don’t know, trying to get some attention or whatever. She’ll come back. Give her, like, two days, tops.”

Barbara frowned, though she didn’t entirely disagree. You were the type to make bold, emotional decisions, always seeking to prove yourself in some way. But there was something about how quiet and decisive you’d been when you quit that didn’t sit right with her.

“You don’t think she’s serious, do you?” Stephanie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Barbara admitted. “It’s… unlike her, I’ll say that.”

Stephanie scoffed again, shaking her head as she stood up to grab her Batgirl suit. “Whatever. I’m calling it now—she’ll be back, and when she is, I’m going to remind her just how ridiculous she’s being.”

Barbara watched Stephanie slip into her suit, her mind racing with questions she didn’t have answers to. This wasn’t like you at all. You were persistent, stubborn even. You fought tooth and nail for the Batgirl mantle, always pushing to prove yourself despite the doubts and obstacles.

For you to just walk away, without warning, felt… wrong.

As Stephanie tightened her utility belt and prepared to head out, she didn’t notice the far-off look in Barbara’s eyes. Even if you were planning to come back, the decision to quit felt too deliberate, too final.

And for the first time in a long time, Barbara found herself worrying about you in a way she hadn’t before.

After telling your father that you quit—and seeing how easily he let you go—you couldn’t stop replaying the scene in your head.

You walked through the halls of Wayne Manor, your mind heavy with frustration, confusion, and a gnawing emptiness that you couldn’t quite name. As you turned the corner, too lost in your thoughts to pay attention, you bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” you muttered automatically, not even looking up at first. But when you did, you froze.

Cassandra.

She stood in front of you, already suited up in her sleek black Bat costume, the faint outline of her emblem catching the light. She looked ready for patrol, or maybe she was just on her way to the Batcave. Her mask wasn’t on yet, so her sharp eyes were trained directly on you, studying you in the way that always made you feel exposed.

For a moment, you two just stared at each other in silence.

You were the first to move, brushing past her quickly without another word. But before you could make it more than a few steps, her voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Your hair.”

You turned around, confused, and caught her still looking at you with that unreadable expression of hers.

“Yeah,” you said, your tone clipped. “I cut it. I know. I get it. It’s awful.”

You made a move to leave again, but her next words surprised you enough to freeze you in place.

“No,” Cassandra said simply, her voice softer now. “It looks… really nice.”

You blinked, staring at her like she’d grown a second head. A compliment? From Cassandra? That wasn’t something you were used to.

“Thanks,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “I guess.”

Without waiting for her to say anything else, you turned and headed back to your room. Your mind raced with the strangeness of the interaction as you climbed the stairs, the faintest trace of heat rising to your cheeks.

It wasn’t just her compliment that threw you off. It was the fact that she’d initiated a conversation at all. Cassandra had always been silent around you, her communication limited to nods, gestures, or the occasional word when necessary. For her to speak up, to make an effort, felt… different.

Weird, you thought as you closed the door behind you.

Uncharacteristic.

But as you sat on the edge of your bed, you couldn’t help but replay her words in your mind.

“It looks… really nice.”

For some reason, they lingered longer than you expected.

From the moment Cassandra bumped into you in the hallway, she could tell something was off. The way you carried yourself, the weight in your movements—it was different. Subtle, but undeniable. She couldn’t quite place what had changed, but it unsettled her.

As she descended into the Batcave, the low hum of tension greeted her before she even stepped off the elevator.

Bruce and Damian were mid-argument, their voices sharp and escalating. Damian’s fists were clenched tightly at his sides, his face twisted in anger, while Bruce’s tone was firm but weary, as if he’d been repeating himself for the hundredth time.

Nearby, Dick stood between them, hands raised in a futile attempt to diffuse the tension. Stephanie leaned casually against the wall, scrolling on her phone while occasionally glancing at Tim, who was tinkering with one of his gadgets. They were the only ones who seemed unaffected by the brewing storm.

When Cassandra stepped into view, Steph looked up and gave her a warm smile. “Cass! Finally, someone sane. Come join us before this place explodes.”

Tim glanced up as well, offering a quick wave before turning back to his project. Cassandra hesitated for a moment but walked over to join them, her eyes still flicking toward the argument at the center of the cave.

Damian’s sharp voice cut through the relative calm of her corner. “Why is Brown here? Isn’t it supposed to be (Name)’s turn to patrol tonight?”

Stephanie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Wow, thanks for the warm welcome, little guy,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Damian ignored her, his gaze locked on Bruce. “Well?” he demanded.

Bruce sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s not patrolling tonight.”

Damian’s brows furrowed, his tone growing more impatient. “And why not? Where is she?”

The tension in the room thickened as Bruce finally answered. “She quit.”

For a moment, the entire cave went still. Everyone except Stephanie and Bruce froze, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What?” Damian said flatly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Dick was the first to intervene, stepping forward and addressing Bruce directly. “What do you mean, she quit?”

Bruce’s tone was even, but there was an edge of finality in it. “Exactly what I said. She told me she quit, and I respected her decision.”

Damian’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. “And you just let her?”

Bruce gave him a calm but firm look. “If that’s what she wants, who am I to stop her?”

Damian’s expression darkened, his anger bubbling over. “Unacceptable,” he growled. “There’s no way she just quits. Something’s wrong.”

Before Bruce could respond, Damian spun on his heel. “I’m asking her myself,” he snapped, already storming toward the elevator.

“Damian—” Bruce started, but Damian ignored him, disappearing up the elevator shaft before anyone could stop him.

The silence that followed was palpable, the weight of Damian’s fury lingering in the air.

Dick broke it first, his voice calm but resolute. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Bruce hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Go. Make sure he doesn’t do something reckless.”

As Dick followed after Damian, the remaining group stayed quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Cassandra’s gaze lingered on Bruce, her mind still replaying your distant expression from earlier. Something about all of this felt… wrong.

And she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

The peace and quiet of your room shattered when the door slammed open without so much as a knock. You looked up, startled, to see Damian standing in the doorway, his eyes blazing with fury and confusion.

“You quit?” he demanded, his voice sharp and biting, his tone leaving no room for pleasantries.

Caught off guard, you blinked at him. “Good evening to you too, Damian,” you said dryly, already bracing yourself for the argument that was clearly brewing.

He stepped inside, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “What do you mean you quit? You seriously quit? Why?”

You let out an annoyed sigh, already tired of his interrogation. “Why? Can’t I quit?” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

Damian’s jaw tightened, his expression shifting from anger to utter disbelief. “Are you right in the head?” he shot back, his voice rising. “What kind of madness is this? Did all those late nights finally drive you insane?”

Ok, that ticked you off. Slightly.

“Seriously?” you deadpanned, giving him a pointed look. “You think this is about me losing it?”

“Yes!” Damian barked, his voice ringing through the room. “First, you cut your hair off like it didn’t mean a damn thing to you, and now you suddenly walk up to Father and say you’re done being Batgirl? Just like that? You’ve completely lost it!”

You frowned, irritation creeping into your voice, but you kept calm. “Nothing is wrong with me,” you replied firmly. “I made a decision. I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Not my business?” Damian repeated, his voice incredulous. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. “This affects all of us! You can’t just make a decision like this without considering what it means for the rest of the family!”

You stood up, arms crossed. “And why does that bother you so much? You’ve never cared about what I do. All you’ve ever done is criticize me, undermine me, act like I don’t belong here in the first place! So why do you care now?”

“I don’t care!” Damian snapped, though his voice faltered for just a second. “I care about what your actions mean for our family. You walking away like this—it’s selfish, reckless—”

That was it. The breaking point.

“Selfish?” you shot back, the irritation in your voice finally boiling over. “You’re calling me selfish? After everything I’ve done to prove myself? After all the crap I’ve put up with just to show all of you that I deserve to be here? And you have the audacity to call me selfish?”

Damian threw his hands up in frustration. “This isn’t just about you! Do you even realize what you’re throwing away? What your actions say about the rest of us? You’re acting like—”

“Like what? Like I’m done?” you yelled, cutting him off. “Because I am, Damian! I’m done trying to live up to expectations that no one even thought I could meet in the first place! I’m done being the one who has to prove herself every damn day just to get a shred of acknowledgment!”

“That’s ridiculous!” Damian shot back, his tone defensive. “Father wouldn’t have given you the mantle if you didn’t deserve it. You’re just—”

You cut him off again, your voice sharper, harsher. “He gave me the mantle because I practically begged him to. Not because he thought I deserved it. And every day since, I’ve tried to make up for it, to prove that I do deserve it. But nothing ever works. I get sidelined, tossed aside, whenever Father or Dick or anyone else decides I’m not good enough to help.”

Damian scoffed, crossing his arms. “You don’t get sidelined. You’re just making things up.”

“Oh, shut up,” you snapped, your tone biting now. “Don’t act like you know what I go through.”

Damian opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off again, your voice rising. “No, don’t you dare. You don’t know. You don’t know how it feels to constantly feel like you’re not good enough, to be compared to everyone else and always come up short. You don’t get it, Damian, and you never will. Because you’ve always been the heir, the one Father sees as his true successor. But me? I’ve been nothing but an afterthought.”

Damian’s face faltered for a brief moment, something unspoken flashing in his eyes. He hated the way his chest ached at your words.

“That’s not true,” he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Isn’t it?” you challenged, your voice trembling with exhaustion and frustration. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it. Not when I’m constantly being sidelined, not when I have to fight for scraps of approval while everyone else gets a free pass. And definitely not when even you can’t see me as anything but second-rate!”

Damian hesitated, caught off guard by the raw emotion in your voice. He quickly shook it off, doubling down. “This is beneath you,” he said coldly. “Throwing a tantrum and walking away won’t fix anything.”

“A tantrum?” you echoed, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and hurt. “You think this is a tantrum? Damian, this is me saying I’ve had enough. I’m tired of breaking myself for a family that doesn’t even see me!”

“Then make them see you!” Damian countered, his voice rising again. “You don’t just quit because it’s hard! You don’t just give up!”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Of course, that’s your answer. Just fight harder, right? Because that’s all you know how to do. But I’m not like you, Damian. I can’t keep pretending that this fight is worth it.”

“Not worth it?” Damian repeated, his tone disbelieving. “Are you actually kidding me? Richard told me that fighting for family is always worth it—”

“Well Richard can go fuck himself for all I care,” you snapped, cutting him off. “For someone who prides himself as a family guy, he’s done a great fucking job proving that, hasn’t he?”

Damian bristled, his voice rising. “Don’t talk about Richard that way—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I forgot he actually gives a damn about you. No wonder you have such a biased perspective on how he really is.”

Damian froze, stunned into silence by your words. The room grew unbearably quiet, tension heavy in the air.

Finally, Damian let out a sharp breath, his voice low but laced with finality. “This isn’t over,” he said, turning on his heel.

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone, your chest heaving from the intensity of the argument. You sank back into your chair, exhaustion settling in as the adrenaline faded. But the ache in your heart lingered, sharp and unyielding.

Damian’s words echoed in your mind, each one like a sharp jab to the chest. Selfish. Reckless. The words rang in your ears, infuriating and unfair.

Damnit. You hadn’t meant to blow up on him. But everything was just… too much. It wasn’t like you could keep pretending it was fine anymore.

Your fingers dug into the armrest of the chair as you shut your eyes, the headache beginning to set in behind your eyes. You could almost feel the physical ache of the emotional turmoil. I don’t care… You repeated the words silently, but it only made the ache in your chest worse. You had always cared about this family. You had tried so hard to belong, to prove yourself.

But what had it gotten you? You fought tooth and nail for the mantle of Batgirl, begging for the chance to prove you were worthy of it. Yet, here you were, useless in Damian’s eyes, ready to walk away. Maybe he was right—maybe you were being reckless, selfish. Because if you weren’t being Batgirl, who were you anymore? You certainly didn’t feel like the Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

You scoffed bitterly, shaking your head. They’d be fine without you, you thought. They always are. It wasn’t like your role in the family made a difference. You had always felt like an afterthought, never quite fitting in the way your siblings did. They all had their roles—Damian was the heir, Tim was the brain, Jason was the wild card, Cassandra was the silent powerhouse, and Dick was the one holding everyone together. You? You were just… there. Batgirl, but only when they needed you, only when it was convenient. When Stephanie wasn’t around. You hated to admit it, but she was undeniably a better Batgirl than you could ever be. You only saw that now, after everything you’ve been through.

“I should’ve quit a long time ago,” you muttered to yourself, your voice hollow.

They didn’t need you. Not really.

You clenched your fists at your sides, frustration building again. But then, as much as you tried to convince yourself that quitting was the right decision, you felt the doubt creep in. The sting of Damian’s words lingered like a cut, refusing to heal. What had you really thrown away?

Damian thought it was selfish? Well, maybe it was. But that wasn’t all there was to it. He couldn’t see it. He didn’t know the pain you’d been carrying all this time. The weight of the mantle, the pressure to be someone you weren’t sure you could be. You literally died because you wanted to prove you deserved this mantle.

But Damian didn’t know that. No one in the family did. To them, you were still 16. But you were 20, somehow in your 16 year old body. And frankly, you didn’t think anyone would have believed you if you told them. They’d probably rule you off as delirious.

Was it selfish to want to take a step back, to breathe, to figure out who you were without the costume, without feeling the need to live up to unrealistic expectations?

You ran a hand through your hair, pulling at the ends of the newly cut strands. It felt different—lighter, maybe—but it didn’t fix anything. The ache in your chest remained.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and walked over to the window, staring out at the Gotham skyline. The night was quiet, peaceful even, but you felt nothing but turmoil inside. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to feel so lost, so empty after making a decision that was supposed to bring you peace.

But all you felt was the sting of Damian’s words, the echo of a family that would carry on without you. Maybe you weren’t meant to fit in. Maybe you were never meant to be Batgirl. Maybe quitting was the only way to let go of the weight you couldn’t carry anymore.

But the thought of it didn’t bring relief. It only brought more questions. More doubts. And the ache in your chest kept growing.

Dick made his way out of the Batcave, the soft hum of the cave’s equipment still echoing in his ears as he began his search. He knew the halls of the Batcave well, had spent hours running through them as a child, but for some reason, he couldn’t place exactly where Damian had gone.

Where would he be?

He knew Damian wasn’t the type to go off and brood in silence. No, if Damian had something to say, he’d say it—loudly. So the question was: Where would he go to find you?

Dick’s feet moved without thought, his mind running through options, trying to remember every possible place Damian could have gone. There was the training room, sure, but that didn’t seem likely. The library, maybe? No. He probably went to look for you in your room.

Dick’s boots echoed softly on the polished floor as he headed toward the hall where your room was supposed to be. His steps slowed, however, as a troubling realization settled in his chest.

Wait… where was your room?

Dick froze in the hallway, blinking in confusion. His gaze wandered down the corridor, his mind grinding to a halt. He’d known you for years, shared the same space, even lived under the same roof for what felt like forever—but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember where your room was.

It was a simple enough question—where was your room? He’d been there countless times, right? He’d spent so much time around the Manor, yet now, all he could think about was the fact that he couldn’t pinpoint the location of your room. The door had been right there, hadn’t it? Near the end of the hall? Or maybe down by the study?

Dick’s breath caught in his chest, and he quickly shook the thought off.

This is ridiculous.

He was probably just overthinking it. He was the oldest, the one who had been around the longest. It didn’t make sense for him to suddenly forget something so simple. Get it together, Grayson.

But the more he tried to focus, the more his thoughts twisted into a spiral. He knew where everyone’s room was.

How could he not know? Sixteen years. He’d known you for sixteen years. He’d visited this house, stayed in this house, lived in this house for years, and yet…

His breath hitched. The realization was almost too absurd to comprehend.

He knew where Damian’s room was. Knew where Tim’s was. Knew Cassandra’s, hell, he even knew where Jason’s childhood room was—Jason, who didn’t even live here anymore. He even knew the little quirks about each of their spaces: the sword display in Damian’s, the books stacked haphazardly in Tim’s.

But your room?

His mind was blank. He couldn’t even picture it.

Had he ever been to your room? Surely, he must have at some point. Right? His stomach twisted as he tried to remember, as if dredging up a memory he wasn’t sure even existed. Why couldn’t he see it in his mind? How could he have let this slip past him?

Panic began to rise in his chest as the uncertainty clawed at him. He’d been part of this family for years. He knows you the longest out of everyone. He should have known this.

Dick stood in the middle of the hall, mind reeling. How could he forget?

Before he could descend further into his spiral, he heard it. Muffled voices, raised in anger, followed by the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut.

Your room.

Without thinking, Dick’s instincts kicked in, and he started moving toward the sound. He rounded the corner just in time to see Damian storming off, his face set in a mask of fury. He didn’t even spare Dick a glance, his steps quick, purposeful.

“Damian!” Dick called, jogging after him, a mix of concern and confusion flooding his mind. “Hey, wait up.”

Damian didn’t slow down. If anything, his pace quickened, and he shot a look over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I don’t have time for this, Grayson.”

Dick’s frustration only grew. “What’s going on? What happened in there?”

Damian’s fists clenched at his sides as he turned his head back toward the direction he was walking. “Nothing you need to know.” His voice was tight, clipped.

Dick’s steps faltered, but he wasn’t about to back down. “Damian, come on—don’t shut me out. What happened with you and (name)?”

Damian, however, wasn’t interested in talking. His head jerked up with a scowl. “I don’t need you to fix this, Grayson. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Dick, unwilling to let it go, caught up to him and blocked his path. “Damian, I’m not trying to fix anything. I just want to understand what happened. Why are you so upset?”

Damian’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something more than anger. “Because I don’t understand it!” he snapped. “(Name) quit. She quit, Dick! And you’re all just standing around pretending like nothing’s wrong! That it doesn’t matter!”

That stopped Dick in his tracks. His heart sank as the weight of Damian’s words hit him. Standing around and pretending like nothing’s wrong? That it doesn’t matter? Of course not. He’s worried too. You quit? It didn’t make sense. But before Dick could respond, Damian was already pushing past him, practically shoving him out of the way.

“Damian—” Dick started again, but the younger boy cut him off, raising a hand to silence him.

“Don’t. Just don’t. I’m done with this conversation.”

Dick’s hand shot out instinctively, grabbing Damian’s arm before he could walk past. “Damian, stop. Just talk to me for a second.”

Damian whirled around, his eyes full of frustration and barely contained rage. “Why? So you can tell me everything’s fine? That we’re just supposed to accept this?” His voice cracked, just slightly, and Dick saw the sharp pain beneath the anger. “You don’t get it, Grayson. She quit. She walked away, and it feels like no one’s doing anything about it. No one cares!” His fists clenched tighter, the tension in his body radiating off him like a live wire.

Dick felt a heavy lump settle in his throat, a mixture of confusion and concern. He understood Damian’s anger—he was angry too, but his reaction was much more raw, and far more personal than Dick had anticipated.

Dick’s hand remained on Damian’s arm, his grip tightening ever so slightly, trying to ground him in the chaos of the moment. He stared at Damian, confusion and concern evident in his eyes. “What do you mean by that?” Dick asked, his voice softer now, tinged with confusion. “Of course I care about her, Damian. But getting upset won’t change anything.”

Damian let out a sharp, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “Sure, you care now,” he scoffed. “But it doesn’t feel like that to her, does it?”

Dick froze, his hand still gripping Damian’s arm, but now it felt more like a lifeline for him, trying to hold onto something solid in the midst of this emotional storm. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his heart starting to pound. “You’re not making sense.”

Damian pulled his arm away sharply, his movements tense and jerky. “Whatever,” he muttered, his voice growing colder. “I don’t have time for this. I’m going to the cave.” He turned on his heel, striding away, his anger still hanging heavy in the air.

Dick stood there for a moment, his mind reeling. Damian’s words were like a punch to the gut, and Dick couldn’t make sense of them. It doesn’t feel like that to her. What was he talking about? Was Damian implying that you didn’t believe Dick cared about you? That you’d somehow gotten the impression that no one cared, that no one was doing anything to stop you from leaving?

A knot of anxiety formed in Dick’s stomach as the implications of Damian’s words settled in. Did you really think he didn’t care? The thought gnawed at him, twisting and turning in his chest.

He had always assumed you knew how much he valued you, how much he cared for you—as family, as his sister. But now, he wondered if he’d ever truly shown that.

Damian’s words continued to echo in his head as he stood there, frozen for a moment longer. What did he mean? Dick couldn’t fathom why you would feel that way.

With a sigh, he pushed those thoughts aside, his mind refocusing. He had to find you. He couldn’t let this go on any longer, especially if you thought you weren’t seen, weren’t valued. He had to fix this, whatever it took. But when he makes his way to your room, Dick just freezes in his place. What should he say to you? What would make you feel better? Dick hates how nothing instantly comes to his mind, hates how he couldn’t form a solution to try and resolve whatever conflict you had with Damian.

Without another word, Dick turned towards the cave, his resolve hardening. He’ll just wait until you’ve calmed down from your emotional argument with Damian, and then talk to you.

how we feeling about this chapter 😘

taglist (open): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows @thethingwiththefeathers @mochiivqi @pix-stuff @narration-ator @nebulousmoon3990 @delias-stuff @froggy-voidd @jjsmeowthie @kore-of-the-underworld @nen-nyy @juthesillylesbain @vikkus-main @emilylouise123 @blueiones @horror-lover-69 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wassupbroski55555 @reallyromealone @plsfckmedxddy @sea-glasses @203moonysello @luvly-writer @dovey-quacks2332 @love-theangel @hotdinosankles @vebbiewuzhere | ask to be added <3 (idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓)

[ithebookhoarder]

Never Let You Go (Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader)

Description: Being married to Aaron (A.K.A. your boss and the love of your life) has both it advantages and disadvantages - and being reprimanded by him for risking your neck in the field is definitely one of the latter... 💔

A/N: Hi everyone. I'm alive! Sorry that this is so short but it sort of just wrote itself and was a nice way to help try and ease me back into writing again as it's been a hot minute here 😅

Warnings: Angsty Hotch, arguing, mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, implied murder, references to abduction, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Masterlist

You knew when Aaron was angry. You knew the signs very well this far into your relationship, not only as a fellow member of the BAU but also as his wife. He didn’t even need to voice it for you to notice it, rolling off of him in waves… and unfortunately for you, you knew exactly what had caused it. 

You hadn’t meant to throw yourself into the proverbial frying pan, but when the Unsub you had been tracking had grabbed an innocent girl as a hostage you had simply acted without thinking. You had offered yourself instead, knowing your value meant he would not dispose of you as quickly as the others he had taken - and that your team would have to let him leave the parking lot you had chased him to. He knew it too, which was why he had quickly accepted, resulting in you being hauled into a van with a gun pressed against your head. 

Of course, the team had done exactly what you’d expected and located you within an hour. They had mounted a rescue and you had been safely back, unharmed, within mere minutes of the team arriving outside of the cabin. 

All in all, it was a win in your book… but not in your husband / boss’s.  

He had been the first through the door, intent on getting to you whilst Morgan tackled the Unsub into handcuffs. He had quickly cut you free, checked you weren’t seriously hurt, and escorted you back outside, tucked securely under his arm. However, the second you had made it back to the cars, Aaron had pulled away and hidden behind a mask of white hot fury. 

His silent temper had only got worse since you’d all got off the plane, with a thick and suffocating silence filling the car on the drive back. Everyone looked at one another anxiously, knowing better than to risk being the one to say anything and accidentally cause him to erupt in their direction. In fact, a minor miracle had occurred with Spencer not saying a single word until the whole team had spilled out of the elevator, even if it looked like it had caused him physical pain to do so. 

Hell, even Penelope had taken one look at everyone’s faces and done an immediate u-turn back to her lair, muttering she would ‘come back later’.

Unfortunately, you didn’t really have that option when Aaron was your husband and you both shared a car and a house… which was why you had watched as the others grabbed their belongings and finished debriefing, leaving their case files on Hotch’s desk for him to review on Monday. You’d followed along, the last to enter his office and leave your own on the top of the pile. 

However, your fingers had barely let go of the manilla envelope when you heard Hotch clear his throat, turning his attention squarely to the last two agents stood next to you. 

“Good work, everyone. Morgan, Prentiss, you can go. Have a good weekend - Y/N, stay where you are. We need to talk.” 

Shit. 

Your husband’s tone was calm but icy, telling you that this wasn’t up for debate; it was an order and god help anyone who went against him. It was why Emily and Derek made for the door without another word, although Emily shot you a final look over her shoulder, as if checking you were alright. 

You nodded subtly, trying to reassure her as she and Derek made their way out the door, closing it behind them. You knew without asking that the rest of the team would be watching from down in the bullpen, trying and failing to work out what was being said as Hotch ripped you a new one.  

Taking a deep breath, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him. 

You hated seeing his beautiful face so hard and devoid of feeling. It was like a whole different man to the one who slept beside you every night, and greeted you first thing every morning. 

You gulped.

A cold sweat had formed on the back of your neck as he stepped closer slowly, deliberately dragging out the tension. You had to fight the urge to break off the staring contest between you, refusing to surrender to him just yet. It was probably why you opened your mouth first, desperate to beat him to the punch in case you lost your nerve. 

“Before you say anything, I know what you’re going to say, and I know what I did was dangerous and went against your orders,” you rambled, “I’m also well aware of the consequences and I won’t apologise for what I did, not when the option was risking that young girl and the rest of the team-“ 

“I am your superior here, Y/N. What I say goes. That is not up for debate, ever. You do not give me orders,” Aaron seethed, making you fall silent without even raising his voice - which somehow made it worse. It was as if your guilt was swallowing you whole. “What happened today will not happen again, am I understood? You do not ignore my orders whenever you feel like it, nor do you get to lecture me about why you did what you did. And above all? You never tell me to let you go, unarmed and alone, ever again. Is that clear?” 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, wishing silently for it to swallow you up.

“You know I was doing what anyone else on this team would’ve done. He had an innocent girl, Aaron, and he was cornered,” you countered. “He would have killed her the second he left the parking lot, or opened fire then and there. It was the only way to get him out of there, without risking the team and everyone in that area-“

“As the head of this team, I did what I would’ve done if anyone else had been in that position - which is tell you not to risk yourself - but as your husband,” he choked, “I cannot even begin to describe what I felt when he had that gun pointed at your head and that van door closed.” 

You gulped. You felt his pain drawing you in like a gravitational pull, making you desperate to reach out and soothe it from his brow.

“Aaron… You know I didn’t do this to hurt you,” you cooed. To your relief, he nodded, wrapping an arm around your waist and curling you into his chest as if needing to feel you were actually stood there in front of him.  

“It might surprise you to realise that I do know that. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make any of this easier.” You could feel the tension physically radiating off of him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I… I thought I’d lost you. I... I can't lose you... I won't lose you or someone I love. Not again.”

“I know. I’m so sorry… I’m right here, my love. I’m right here… Always.”

[nickeverdeen]

Unspoken | Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Pairings: Hermione x reader (romantic), Ron x Hermione (one-sided interest), Hermione x Harry (platonic), reader x Ron (platonic), reader x Harry (platonically close), Ron x Harry (platonic)

Type of fic: Angst/Comfort, Light Comedy

Warnings: Jealousy, supressing feelings, one-sided crush, mention of a hickey, former secret relationship, a bit out of character at the end

Summary: Dating Hermione in secret is the least of your worries, but on the other hand Ron getting more and more touchy with Hermione suprisingly shot up to the top for some reason…

———————

The relationship between you and Hermione had been a closely guarded secret ever since your fourth year. Now, in your seventh year at Hogwarts, the two of you were still happily together—though no one knew about it. It wasn’t as though you had a problem with keeping things quiet; you respected Hermione’s need for privacy. She was cautious, not because she was ashamed, but because she wasn’t sure how people would react, especially her friends.

You didn’t mind. It had been three years, and you were happy to keep your love for each other just between the two of you. In fact, there was something sweet about the stolen moments in the library, the soft touches in the hallways when no one was looking, and the shared glances during classes. It was enough.

But recently, something had begun to bother you. Ron Weasley, one of Hermione’s closest friends, seemed to be taking more interest in her. And not just as a friend. He had always been close to Hermione, but lately, his touches lingered longer, and he made more time to be around her than usual. You’d catch him leaning in too closely during their study sessions or placing a hand on her shoulder in a way that made your stomach tighten.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Hermione. You knew how much she loved you, even if no one else did. But Ron’s presence was starting to make you feel… jealous. And what made it worse was that you couldn’t even say anything. To everyone else, Hermione and Ron were just good friends, and if you said something, you’d risk exposing your relationship.

One afternoon, when the tension became too much, you pulled Harry aside after class. He looked surprised when you asked if you could talk in private, but followed you without question.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Let’s say… hypothetically, you’re dating someone, but you’re keeping it secret. And there’s someone else—someone close to them—who seems to be getting a little too friendly. What would you do?”

Harry blinked, clearly confused. “Er… I’m not really sure. I mean, I haven’t exactly been experiencing this, so…”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Yeah, I know. It’s just—what would you do?”

He thought about it for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Well, if it were me, I guess I’d just keep it to myself. You know, don’t make a big deal out of it. If it’s nothing, then no harm done, right?”

His words were meant to be reassuring, but they only made you feel worse. You thanked him quietly and walked away, feeling more confused than ever. Keeping quiet was exactly what you’d been doing for weeks, and it wasn’t helping.

Over the next few days, you found yourself distancing from Hermione. Whenever she and Ron were together, you’d make excuses to be somewhere else. You tried to focus on your own errands, burying yourself in schoolwork and other distractions, but it didn’t stop the gnawing feeling inside.

Hermione, being as sharp as ever, noticed your behavior almost immediately. She tried to ask you about it several times, but you always brushed it off with a smile. She wasn’t convinced.

During breakfast in the Great Hall one morning, Hermione’s worried gaze shifted between where you normally sit and Harry. She leaned in, her voice low. “Harry, what’s going on with Y/N? She’s been acting strange lately.”

Harry, still shoveling food into his mouth, paused and gave her a guilty look. “Uh… well, she pulled me aside the other day. She was asking what to do if you’re jealous of someone. I told her to keep quiet about it. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

The realization hit Hermione like a bolt of lightning. She quickly stood up, leaving the Great Hall without another word, her robes trailing behind her as she made her way out in search of you.

You were sitting by the Black Lake, staring out at the still water, your thoughts a tangled mess of worry and frustration. You hadn’t noticed Hermione approaching until she sat down beside you, her presence soft and careful, as though she didn’t want to startle you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You were too focused on the lake to look at her, but you could feel her gaze on you. It was Hermione who finally broke the silence.

“Harry told me what’s been bothering you,” she said gently, her voice full of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling jealous?”

You winced inwardly. You didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to sound petty, but the look on her face told you she wouldn’t let it go. “I didn’t want to say anything because… well, it’s Ron. You two are such close friends, and I didn’t want to come across as possessive.”

Hermione frowned, reaching for your hand. “But you’re not being possessive. If something’s bothering you, I want to know. What Harry told you was stupid advice. We need to talk about these things, not keep them bottled up.”

You sighed, finally turning to look at her. “It’s just… sometimes, when I see him with you, I get this feeling that I can’t shake. I know you love me, but it’s hard not to feel a little jealous.”

Hermione’s expression softened, and she squeezed your hand. “Y/N, I do love you. And nothing between Ron and me will ever change that. You don’t need to worry about him.”

You hesitated, still unsure. “But he has feelings for you”

She shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Then that’s his problem. I love you.”

Your heart fluttered at her words, the weight on your chest lifting slightly. You smiled, feeling a bit foolish for doubting her.

Hermione leaned her head on your shoulder, her hand still holding yours. “And as for the whole ‘keeping things quiet’ thing… I don’t think I care about that anymore.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve always been so careful about it…”

She shushed you softly. “I’m sure.”

The two of you stayed by the lake for hours, talking and holding hands. By the time you returned to the castle, the weight of your jealousy had lifted, replaced by the warmth of Hermione’s reassurance.

As you both walked back into the Great Hall, Hermione casually reached for your hand, interlacing her fingers with yours. You shot her a look of surprise, and she just smiled back, a playful glint in her eyes.

As you passed Ron, Hermione took it a step further, tugging lightly on your collar to reveal a small, barely hidden hickey on your neck. Your eyes widened in shock, and you shot her a look, but she just smiled at you, clearly enjoying teasing you.

Ron’s eyes slowly widened as he looked between the two of you, the realization dawning on him. “Wait… you two are…?”

Hermione smiled innocently. “What gave it away?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as the pieces finally clicked into place for Ron, and you felt lighter than you had in weeks. No more secrets. No more hiding. Just the two of you, together, for everyone to see.

[n109hunter]

Snippet Sunday - "cat nap"

pairing: sylus x mc word count: 1,043 summary: Still settling into the comfort of this new relationship, a certain kitten seeks a nice warm spot to nap when a rain storm comes rolling in. tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, early relationship, "wip" (see authors note), a/n: A wip of mine I started back at the start of October that, woefully, I kind of forgot where I was going with it. Well, I know where, but I forgot the specifics and it's making me smad. 😔 However! As it is right now, I think it's a fine, "fade-to-black" fluffy little one-shot. I intend to come back and finish it eventually, once I can herd those thoughts back, but for now I think it's good enough to share.

It was three in the afternoon in the N109 zone, which meant almost nothing at all under its perpetual darkness - except that Sylus was sleeping. 

Since they’d more or less ‘officially’ started dating, (and admittedly, before that too), she had gotten used to spending her free time around the Onychinus base - at least, as much as she could without raising too many suspicions. Maneuvering around each other's work and sleep schedules could get a little lonesome at times, but she did take a pleasant contentment in simply being near him. 

He’d said before he slept easier when she was around, and while it was perhaps a bit of a strange dynamic, she took pride in the thought she might offer him some peace of mind - that she could protect him when he was ‘at his most vulnerable’, as the twins had told her once.

…Lied, actually, but sentiments were sentiments. 

“Here comes the rain.” Kieran said with a tired sigh, looking out the window as he played his number card. 

Luke tsk'ed at the play, and put down an assist card. “Thought we’d get through the day without it.” 

From where she sat on the sofa across the room from them, she tilted her head back to glance at the window behind her. A few raindrops quietly began to pelt the reinforced, one-way glass, heralding the coming ‘will it or won’t it’ storm that had been hanging heavy over the N109 zone all day. She blinked slowly, eyes feeling slightly heavy.

She felt so at ease and content, it wasn’t that she was tired exactly, but curling up under some blankets just sounded so good. Sometimes she begrudgingly had to acknowledge maybe Sylus was right all along, maybe she was a kitten. One who wanted nothing more right now than to go crawl in a warm bed next to her favorite person for a little cat nap on a rainy afternoon. 

Dog earring her page she set her book down and climbed up from where she’d been sitting overlong, stretching her arms high above her head.

“I’m gonna go take a nap,” she said, making her way across the room, “don’t get carried away when you lose, Luke.”

“Hey! I’m still in the lead!” 

“Not anymore, you aren’t!” Kieran laughed, slapping down another card, soon followed by Luke’s frustrated groaning. 

Now, she didn’t particularly want to disturb Sylus’s sleep, but she didn’t think he’d mind if she just… crawled into bed with him, right? She would be oh-so-quiet, and felt like she could comfortably doze off with ease. 

Smiling to herself she recalled the multitude of times she’d snuck into this room before. Not terribly long ago, but how different those days had been. Back then she’d been appalled by him, now here she was eager to tuck herself against him and listen to the sound of his breathing and the distant rain as she fell asleep. 

Practically tip-toeing over to his bedside, she tried not to indulge herself in watching him sleep too much, lest he ‘sense eyes on him’ and wake abruptly. Augh but how couldn’t she? He was so impossibly handsome, and honestly pretty adorable when he was sleeping. The soft curl of his eyelashes against his cheeks, his slightly parted lips… No, no, she just needed to climb in and join him.

Though come to think of it… Just crawling into bed was quite possibly a risk, too, wasn’t it? 

Eh, she knew what she was getting into. Worst case scenario she’d be suspended in the air by his evol for a few seconds, and she was well accustomed to that by now. 

Steadying her breathing she gently lifted the covers and started inching her way onto the bed beneath them. And then stopped short, slowly looking up to see a pair of sleepy red eyes looking straight at her. Funny -and somehow comforting- how she was beginning to be able to simply sense the weight of his gaze when it was on her. 

Biting her lip briefly and feigning her best ‘oopsy’ expression, she lifted a finger to her mouth: “Shh.” and scooted closer. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was sleepy, words slurring slightly together, but there was no dissatisfaction in his tone, instead it was filled with warm amusement.

“Don’t wake up.” She told him, unable to restrain the big smile on her face as she started making herself comfy. “I wanna take a nap with you.”

‘Obedient’ was not a word she would ever use to describe Sylus, but nevertheless he… rather obediently stretched his arm out for her to lay her head on.

“Isn’t it a bit early for you to be sleeping?” He yawned, snaking his other arm around her waist and pulling her in closer to him. Her heart skipped a beat, and a shiver ran through her, but then she happily eased against him, letting her arm slide around him in turn.

“It’s a nap- shh, listen.” Curling her other arm up between them she tapped her finger against his mouth to shush him. He gave a small mumble in the back of his throat, but otherwise fell quiet. The sound of rain against his window filled in the silence, joined by an occasional rumble of distant thunder. 

“Mm, it’s raining.” He said matter-of-factly, as if unsure if there was some meaning behind her pointing it out. He brought his hand up to wrap around hers, thumb brushing over her outstretched finger to fold it into a fist as he kissed her knuckles. “I didn’t think you were scared of the thunder, kitten.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, but her breath caught in her lungs at that impossibly sweet gesture. 

“I just felt… like the atmosphere was perfect to come take a nap with you.”

“The atmosphere will always be perfect for that no matter what.”

Laughing softly, she wiggled herself a little closer, knees bumping his. “Shh, go back to sleep, I didn’t come here to bother you.” 

“Mmm,” he hummed and closed his eyes again. “You couldn’t anyway.” Tilting his head down, his forehead softly pressed against hers, and one of his legs snaked over hers pulling it between his knees. “Besides, I’m not tired anymore.”

[httpvomitello]

Shell of Trust *⁠.⁠✧

Donatello had always prided himself on being observant. He noticed the little things—the way people hesitated, the subtle changes in tone, the details others often overlooked. It was part of what made him such a good problem solver, and right now, the puzzle in question was you.

You’d been part of their lives for months now, introduced as April’s best friend. Sweet, kind, and intelligent, you’d fit in with the group almost seamlessly. But there were walls you kept up, things you didn’t share, and the most glaring of all: your reluctance to let them come over to your home.

Donnie wasn’t one to pry, but the more time he spent with you, the more he found himself wanting to know what was behind those walls. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was something deeper. He admired you, more than he cared to admit, and your quiet strength had a way of captivating him.

So when you’d canceled plans for the third time that week, claiming something had come up, Donnie couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Against his better judgment, he decided to stop by your place. He told himself it was just to make sure you were okay, but deep down, he knew there was more to it.

It was late when he arrived, the soft glow of your living room lights spilling out through the window. Donnie climbed onto the fire escape, careful not to make a sound as he peered inside.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

There, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was a little girl. She was playing with a set of blocks, her face scrunched up in concentration. Her resemblance to you was unmistakable, from the curve of her nose to the way her hair fell in soft waves.

Donnie’s breath hitched.

Before he could process the revelation, the little girl looked up—and screamed.

“Mommy, there's someone at the window!”

Donnie backed away from the window, panic rising in his chest. He hadn’t meant to scare her. A moment later, the window swung open, and you looked outside, your expression a mix of shock and seriousness.

“Donnie?”

“Uh… hi,” he said sheepishly, raising a hand in an awkward wave.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.

“I—I wanted to check on you,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to scare her. I didn’t know—”

“That I have a daughter?” you finished for him, crossing your arms.

He nodded, his gaze flickering toward the window where the little girl was peeking out cautiously. “Yeah. That.”

You sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice soft. “Why didn’t you tell any of us?”

You hesitated, glancing back at the window before stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “Because it’s complicated, Donnie. People judge me because of that. They assume things, say things… I didn’t want you guys to see me like that.”

Donnie frowned. “You really think we’d do that?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I couldn’t take the chance. Maya’s been through enough, and so have I. I couldn’t risk you rejecting her—or me.”

He took a step closer, his expression earnest. “I could never reject you. Either of you.”

Your eyes met his, uncertainty flickering in them. “You say that now, but you don’t know the whole story.”

“Then tell me,” he urged gently.

You hesitated, but the sincerity in his voice broke down some of your walls. “Her dad… he left when I told him I was pregnant. Said he wasn’t ready to be a father and walked away, a few months later I found out he was cheating on me and his mistress was also pregnant.. Since then, it’s just been me and Maya. And let’s just say people haven’t exactly been kind about it.”

Donnie’s eyes became more serious. “That’s… awful.”

You gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, it is what it is. I’ve gotten used to people looking at me like I’ve failed somehow. I didn’t want you guys to look at me that way, too.”

“I don’t,” he said firmly. “And I never will. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, and from what I can see, you’re an incredible mom.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, blinking back tears. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it,” he insisted. “It’s the truth. And Maya… she’s lucky to have you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, finally meeting his gaze again. “You’re really something, you know that?”

He smiled softly. “I could say the same about you.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the tension easing into something quieter, more intimate. Finally, you broke the silence.

“Do you want to come inside?” you asked.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Maya’s probably still a little scared, but… I think it’s time she met one of my friends.”

He followed you inside, his movements careful and deliberate. Maya was still on the floor, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly. When she saw him, her eyes widened, but she didn’t scream this time.

“Hi,” Donnie said gently, crouching down to her level. “I’m Donatello. You can call me Donnie if you want.”

She didn’t respond, her grip on the rabbit tightening.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” you said softly, kneeling beside her. “He’s a friend. Remember how I told you about Mommy’s special friends? Donnie’s one of them.”

Maya glanced at you, then back at Donnie. After a long pause, she whispered, “You’re really tall.”

Donnie chuckled, relief washing over him. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Your heart warmed at the sight of him interacting with her so gently.

As the evening went on, you found yourself smiling more, watching Donnie carefully build a tower of blocks with Maya. He was patient and kind, never once making her feel uncomfortable.

Maybe, just maybe, you had found someone you could trust—not just with your heart, but with hers, too.

[theemporium]

Hi,

I’d like to order a violet fluff with Carlos and number 19. I really like your cocktail bar idea! No worries if it’s not possible ☺️

Bye, have a nice Sunday!

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

19. "If the Gods choose to only give us daughters, then I will gladly have as many as you are willing to give me."

.

Logically, you knew he wouldn’t be angry but somewhere in the pregnancy hormones and lingering doubts, you found yourself spiralling. 

If there was one thing Carlos hated, it was that he couldn’t be with you twenty-four/seven for the duration of your pregnancy. He was over the moon to start this new chapter with you, even if it was a little earlier than either of you anticipated. He was excited to start a family with the love of his life. He had been so happy when you had originally told him during the winter break, so lost in the giddiness of it all that it took a few weeks before he realised he would be away from you for a majority of the pregnancy with the upcoming season. 

You had flown out for a few, but Carlos didn’t like stressing you out unnecessarily. His overprotectiveness reached new levels and a busy paddock wasn’t exactly ideal during the first trimester when everything was still delicate and a secret to everyone outside your immediate families. And then, as the pregnancy continued, it didn’t seem worth the risk just to fly out for a race weekend when he would be too busy working to really be with you. 

But it meant he missed important moments. He missed appointments and ultrasounds and milestones. He tried to be there for as many as he could, but it just wasn’t always possible with his busy schedule. 

And one of those moments was the gender. The two of you had decided you had wanted to find out before the baby arrived. And despite your insistence that you would wait for Carlos, he encouraged you to find out at the earliest possible moment.

And you were happy when you found out you were having a girl. You were over the fucking moon. 

But there was a voice in the back of your head, persistent and annoying and unnerving. And it didn’t leave you alone in the days following your appointment until Carlos had returned from the latest race. In all honesty, somewhere between pestering thoughts and baby brain, you had forgotten he was even coming home that night. 

“Mi amor?” 

You froze, sat on the edge of the bathtub with the latest ultrasound in your hand. You don’t even remember why you were in the bathroom, it had just happened and now Carlos was seconds away from walking in and you just weren’t ready to face the disappointment on his face.

“Amor? Where are—”

The door to the bathroom opened and you lifted your head to find Carlos smiling at you. He wasted no time in walking towards you, his hands cupping the back of your head as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Hm, I’ve missed you,” he murmured the words against your skin before he glanced down at the small picture in your hands and let out a noise of excitement. “How’s our baby chilli?” 

Your throat closed up and blood was roaring in your ears, with the voice on a twisted loop in the back of your mind. But you also knew you couldn’t hide it any longer.

“She’s all good and healthy,” you managed to mutter out, watching his face closely. 

You barely blinked before the sight of Carlos’ huge smile made your chest tighten. 

“Princess baby chilli,” he murmured affectionately, his voice thick with emotion as he kneeled in front of you, his hands reaching out to gently cup your belly. “Mi princesa perfecta.”

“You’re happy?” 

Carlos looked up at you, his brows raised. “Are you…not?” 

“No, no, I am. I–” you choked by the words, feeling a sudden and overwhelming wave of emotion hit you. “I was scared.”

Carlos frowned, his demeanour changing as he straightened his spine. “Scared of what?” 

“That you would be upset we weren’t having a boy.” you admitted, a little ashamed but more so relieved to finally get the admission off your chest after it had been haunting you for the last few days. “That you would have wanted a mini you who could—”

“Hey, shhhh,” Carlos cooed softly, his hands cupping your face to wipe away a few stray tears you hadn’t realised had started to fall. “Baby, no. I would be happy with whatever we were having. If the Gods choose to only give us daughters, then I will gladly have as many as you are willing to give me."

“You mean it?” 

“I mean it,” he whispered with a soft smile before he leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips, and then another to your stomach. “Plus, I always thought I gave girl dad energy.”

You snorted, despite yourself. But the sound made Carlos grin wider. 

“I can’t wait to meet our girl,” Carlos continued, his hands lightly squeezing your thighs before he stood up, offering his hand. “Now, c’mon. I’m going to make us dinner, whatever my girls want.”

You smiled. “Whatever we want?” 

“Whatever you want,” he confirmed with a nod. “My princesses deserve only the best and that is all I’m willing to give you both.”

“You sap.”

“Always, mi amor. Always for you.”

.

[eretzyisrael]

by POTKIN AZARMEHR

‘Pro-Palestine’ protests have become a near-weekly occurrence across Britain. Since Hamas’s 7 October massacre, regular marches have been drawing in a growing number of young people, marked by passionate advocacy and fervent slogans. Yet despite their zeal, many of these protesters lack a fundamental understanding of the conflict they are so vociferously decrying.

In the past six months, I have attended many of these marches. Having engaged with numerous protesters, I have noticed a startling disconnect between their strong opinions on the Gaza conflict and their shaky grasp of basic facts about it. Among the most perplexing are the LGBT and feminist groups (the ‘Queers for Palestine’ types) who flirt with justifying Hamas’s atrocities. This is a bewildering alliance, given that Hamas’s Islamist ideology is clearly antithetical to the rights and values these groups claim to champion. Its reactionary agenda is profoundly hostile to women’s rights and LGBT individuals.

Protesters seem eager to make excuses for Hamas, but are conspicuously uninformed about exactly what or who this terrorist group represents. On 18 May, during a protest at Piccadilly Circus in London, I spoke to demonstrators who firmly believed that Hamas represents all Palestinians. When I questioned a well-educated participant about the last Palestinian election, she was unaware that none had occurred since 2006, when Hamas gained power in Gaza.

It wasn’t just young people who were uninformed. An older woman with an American accent, seemingly a veteran protester, admitted she knew that Hamas was linked to the Muslim Brotherhood, but had no deeper knowledge of its ideology or history. Others, such as members of revolutionary socialist groups, displayed similar gaps in understanding, unaware of critical events like the 1979 Iranian Revolution.

That revolution gave birth to the Islamic Republic of Iran, a theocratic regime that brutally oppresses its own citizens. It also sponsors Islamist groups like Hamas. I left Iran for the UK not long after that regime began and have spent years resisting its religious extremism and ruthless political intolerance. Protesters were not only unaware of these facts about the Iranian regime, but also ill-informed about the struggle against it, such as the ‘Woman, Life, Freedom’ protests against the government that began in 2022.

One particularly telling conversation involved a man advocating for a ‘Global Intifada’ to replace capitalism with socialism. When asked about successful socialist models, he was unfamiliar with the Israeli kibbutzim, one of history’s few successful egalitarian experiments. His ignorance of these communal settlements in Israel, built by socialist Jewish immigrants, was all too typical.

Perhaps the most telling moment was captured by commentator Konstantin Kisin earlier this year, when he encountered a young man holding a ‘Socialist Intifada’ placard. The protester admitted he had no idea what this meant and that he had taken the sign simply because it was handed to him.

Reflecting on past movements, such as the American anti-Vietnam War protests of the 1960s and the British Anti-Apartheid Movement of the 1980s, one can’t help but note a stark contrast. Protesters then were generally well-informed about their causes. Today’s pro-Palestine protests, however, seem to be driven more by unthinking fervour than by an understanding of the issues at hand.

Throughout all these protests, I am yet to encounter a single participant who condemns Hamas or carries a placard denouncing its terrorism. This not only undermines the protesters’ cause, but also risks aligning them with groups whose values fundamentally oppose the very rights and freedoms they claim to support. It appears that today’s young protesters are high on ideology, but woefully thin on facts.

Potkin Azarmehr is an Iranian activist and journalist who left Iran for the UK after the revolution of 1979.

[goalsongspinkthongs]

SUGAR - MATT REMPE

Y/N had known Matt for as long as she could remember. They had spent endless summers together, playing hide-and-seek in the park, climbing trees, and building forts out of old blankets in his basement. It wasn’t unusual for them to talk for hours on end, laughing about stupid things, or just sitting in comfortable silence, sharing the kind of friendship that made people think they were inseparable. And, in a way, they were.

But somewhere along the way, things had changed. The hugs had gotten longer, the glances a little more lingering. She’d caught herself daydreaming about him more than once. And when he smiled at her, there was a warmth in her chest that she couldn’t ignore.

Yet, despite everything, neither of them ever said it. They never talked about the way their hearts seemed to beat a little faster when the other was near. They had too much to lose. What if it ruined everything? What if their friendship—this thing that meant more to Y/N than anything else in the world—fell apart? She wasn’t ready to risk it.

"Matt’s just being Matt," she’d tell herself. "It’s just a stupid crush."

But the feeling wouldn’t go away.

Matt had always called her sugar. It was a nickname that made her cheeks flush every time he said it, even though it seemed so innocent. He used it in a way that made it feel like it meant something special, like he was the only person who got to call her that.

"Hey, sugar," Matt would say, grinning like he knew a secret.

And every time, Y/N would smile back, the flutter in her stomach a dead giveaway.

"Hey, Matt," she’d reply, her voice quieter than usual. She hoped he didn’t notice.

But he did. Of course, he did.

"Why do you always act so... weird?" Matt asked one afternoon as they sat on the swings, the setting sun painting the sky a soft pink. His legs were too long for the swing now, so he had to stretch out to avoid hitting the ground. But he didn’t seem to mind.

"I’m not weird," Y/N muttered, focusing on her shoes. She kicked the sand beneath her, pretending like she didn’t feel the way his gaze seemed to be on her constantly.

"Yeah, you are." He chuckled, nudging her with his elbow. "You’re acting weird right now, too."

"How am I acting weird?" Y/N laughed, though it didn’t sound like her normal laugh. It sounded too nervous. She couldn’t look at him. Not now.

"You know exactly what I mean, Y/N." He nudged her again, his eyes sparkling in that way that made Y/N feel like she might be falling into a trap.

She just shook her head, her heart thumping hard against her chest. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

It wasn’t like she could admit it—admit that her feelings for him had changed. She couldn’t risk it. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if she ruined everything?

Matt’s grin faded, and for a moment, it was just the two of them in silence. He didn’t nudge her again. He didn’t call her sugar. He just looked at her, his eyes soft but unreadable.

Y/N swallowed hard.

“Matt—” she started, but before she could finish, her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the moment. She pulled it out, relieved for the interruption.

“Hey! You still meeting me at the café later?" It was a message from Molly.

Y/N sighed, knowing that Molly would never let this go.

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can.” She typed back quickly. “I don’t think I’m in the mood.”

“Well, you’re meeting me, because I am SO over this whole ‘I’m scared to tell Matt I like him’ thing. You have to tell him, Y/N. What are you waiting for?”

Y/N read the message again and groaned.

“Molly, stop. I can’t just tell him that. What if it ruins everything?”

Molly didn’t hesitate. “If it ruins everything, then it wasn’t meant to be. But at least you’ll know. You’re driving yourself crazy, girl. And Matt? He’s not exactly hiding how he feels. You’re not as good at pretending as you think you are.”

Y/N stared at the screen. Her heart skipped a beat. Could Matt really feel the same? Did he know? Was it that obvious?

She turned her phone off and shoved it back into her pocket.

"You good?" Matt asked, noticing the shift in her expression. "You seem... distracted."

Y/N swallowed and stood up from the swing. The wind ruffled her hair as she took a deep breath. The words were right there, stuck in her throat, waiting to spill out. But she couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t hide from it any longer.

“Matt,” she said, her voice shaky. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Matt looked up, eyes wide, his usual grin replaced by something a little more serious. “What’s up?”

Y/N took another deep breath, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “I think... I think I like you. I mean—no, that’s not right. I—” She exhaled, trying again. “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Matt. I didn’t know how to say it. And I thought it would ruin things, but I can’t hide it anymore. I don’t want to.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Matt blinked at her, his face unreadable. Y/N felt like she might die from embarrassment. This was it. She had just ruined everything. She had just destroyed years of friendship with one sentence.

And then he smiled, just a little, but it was enough to make her breath catch.

“I was wondering when you’d finally say it,” Matt said softly, stepping closer to her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her skin like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You’re not the only one, sugar."

Y/N felt her heart stop, then start again, faster than ever.

“You like me too?” she asked, barely believing it.

He nodded. “I thought you knew.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing in relief. “I didn’t. I didn’t know.”

“Well,” Matt said, “I’m glad you said it. Because I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you without ruining everything too.”

Y/N’s heart soared as Matt reached out and pulled her into a hug. A real one, not just the usual friendly hug. She buried her face in his chest, feeling the warmth of him surrounding her.

“I love you,” Matt whispered into her hair. “You know that, right?”

Y/N pulled back slightly to look up at him, her heart full, her eyes wide. “I love you too.”

[satsugacafe]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐡𝐞𝐢 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐚𝐬 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞…

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: hiya! may i ask if you can write some hc of shuhei hisagi being in a relationship with the daughter of shunsui kyoraku?

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: This was so adorable to write. I had a ball of a time. Hope you enjoy, anon!

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: What’s it like to date Hisagi as Kyoraku’s kiddo.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi initially hesitated to even approach you, not because of who your father was. He had never expected to catch the eye of Captain Kyoraku’s daughter, and frankly, it left him a little frazzled. He wasn’t exactly one to think himself suave, despite what others might believe.

˚₊‧꒰ა He always felt like a fumbling idiot around you, though he’d never admit it. And it didn’t help that Kyoraku always seemed to be watching him with a teasing grin whenever he was around, and Kensei made sure to remind him how ridiculous he looked when he zoned out or messed up after those encounters.

˚₊‧꒰ა He found it impossible to stay away, though, your laugh was infectious, and your sharp wit kept him on his toes. You didn’t mince your words, and if someone was being daft, you made sure they knew it. He couldn’t resist how genuine you were, even when it meant being on the receiving end of your dry humour.

˚₊‧꒰ა When he finally got the nerve to confess his feelings, it was after a few too many shared drinks at the Seireitei tavern. “I don’t want you to think this is just the saké talking, but I’d be mad not to tell you—you’re amazing. And if your dad kills me for this, at least I’ll die happy.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Dating you meant Hisagi found himself regularly tangled in Kyoraku’s antics. Shunsui took an almost sadistic delight in teasing him, often dropping into conversations with casual comments like, “So, Hisagi-kun, have you prepared your will yet? I’m sure Nanao-chan can help you file it properly.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You weren’t immune to your father’s teasing either, but you handled it with ease, often replying with a quick, “Don’t worry, dad, I’ll make sure to put you in the nicest care home when the time comes.” Watching your banter with Shunsui made Hisagi fall for you even harder.

˚₊‧꒰ა Your father, for his part, seemed more amused than anything else by the developing romance. “Ah, Shuhei, my boy,” he’d grin lazily, sipping his sake, “you’ve got quite the task ahead of you. She’s more stubborn than I ever was, so best of luck keeping up.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite Shunsui’s laid-back attitude, Hisagi knew the man was fiercely protective. The first time Shunsui casually reminded him of your combat prowess—“You know, she could probably wipe the floor with you, right?”—he didn’t doubt it for a second. But you brushed it off with an exasperated, “Dad, stop trying to scare him off. He’s already too stubborn to run.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi quickly realised that dating you wasn’t just about your sharp humour; you were also the most loyal and determined person he’d ever met. Whether it was training, missions, or standing up for others, you threw yourself into everything wholeheartedly, and it inspired him to push himself further too.

˚₊‧꒰ა You had a knack for putting him in his place when he was being too hard on himself. One particularly rough evening, after a mission went sideways, he was spiralling into self-doubt. “I should’ve seen it coming,” he muttered, head in his hands. You pulled him up by the collar, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “If you don’t stop this pity party right now, I swear I’ll spar with you until you beg for mercy.” He didn’t doubt you for a second.

˚₊‧꒰ა Very gentle when sparring with you, despite your insistence that he didn’t need to hold back. “I’m not risking Kyoraku-taichou’s wrath by accidentally bruising his daughter,” he’d joke, dodging your strikes with ease. You’d roll your eyes and quip, “He’s more likely to scold you for not giving me a proper challenge.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He adored how effortlessly you balanced your fierce independence with your softer, more affectionate side. You weren’t the type to gush over romantic gestures, but you had a way of making small moments feel monumental. Sometimes, it was as simple as leaning against him while watching the sunset, murmuring, “This is nice,” like it was all you needed.

˚₊‧꒰ა He loved spoiling you in little ways—bringing you your favourite snacks after a long day, slipping you flowers he’d picked from the Seireitei gardens, or surprising you with tea brewed exactly how you liked it. He always tried to play it cool, but you could see the faint blush on his cheeks every time.

˚₊‧꒰ა Dates with him often involved quiet, secluded spots where you could both relax without the pressures of your respective duties. He’d take you to the outskirts of Rukongai, where the stars seemed brighter, and the world felt more peaceful.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’d bring his guitar sometimes, playing soft melodies as you leaned against his shoulder. “You’ve got a lot of talent,” you’d murmur, and he’d reply with a humble shrug, “I just like the sound. It’s better when you’re here to listen.”

˚₊‧꒰ა When he introduced you to some of his closest friends, like Renji and Ikkaku, it was both hilarious and mildly chaotic. They teased him relentlessly, especially when you mentioned how often he talked about you. “Shuhei, mate, you’re whipped,” Renji laughed, earning a scowl from your boyfriend. You just smiled, enjoying how easily he got riled up.

˚₊‧꒰ა Teasing him about his “tough guy” image was never-ending, especially when he went out of his way to avoid conflict. “Shuhei, you’re a lieutenant, not a pacifist. You do realise it’s your job to fight sometimes, right?” He’d just grin and reply, “I’m saving my energy for when you challenge me. That’s the real battle.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Loved seeing you in your element during training. Your precision, speed, and strategy were unmatched, and he often found himself mesmerised. “If I didn’t know better,” he’d joke, “I’d think you were showing off just to impress me.” You’d roll your eyes but secretly enjoy the compliment.

˚₊‧꒰ა While you were confident in battle, Hisagi noticed how you sometimes hesitated to accept help or show vulnerability. He made it his mission to remind you that it was okay to lean on someone else. “Even the strongest people need a hand sometimes,” he told you after a gruelling mission, gently taking your hand.

˚₊‧꒰ა The first time you were injured on a mission, Hisagi’s calm facade cracked entirely. He sat by your bedside, gripping your hand tightly as he rambled nervously. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that again, got it? I’m already on thin ice with your dad. Don’t make him actually kill me.” You squeezed his hand and replied, “Relax, Shuhei, I’m not going anywhere. Someone has to keep you in line.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You often found yourself mediating between Hisagi and Kyoraku during their playful yet mildly antagonistic interactions. When your father would casually comment, “You sure you want to stick with this one? There are easier options out there,” you’d roll your eyes and reply, “He’s got more guts than most, dad. That’s good enough for me.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite the constant teasing, Shunsui genuinely seemed to approve of Hisagi, though he’d never admit it outright. One evening, after a family dinner, he patted Hisagi on the back and said, “You’re still alive, so I must like you at least a little.” Hisagi’s relieved laugh was probably louder than necessary.

˚₊‧꒰ა You and Hisagi made an incredible team during joint missions. While he admired your ability to think on your feet, you appreciated his unshakable determination and strategic mind. More often than not, you’d end up bantering mid-fight, much to your enemies’ confusion. “You call that a dodging technique?” you’d shout. “It’s called improvising!” he’d retort.

˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi often wondered how he got so lucky, especially when you’d lean against him after a long day and mumble, “I’m glad it’s you, Shuhei.” Those quiet moments reminded him that, no matter what chaos life threw at him, he’d always have you by his side.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @edensrose

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[waitforyrlove]

the aftermath with slytherin ! matt leaves you conflicted.

PART ONE. PART TWO.

the week after your last encounter with Matt was nothing short of maddening. His presence had always been unnerving, but now it was consuming.

every interaction—every glance across the Great Hall, every smirk thrown your way in the corridors—felt charged. It was as if he’d marked you in some invisible way, and you hated that you couldn’t shake the feeling.

the memory of that night in his dorm, the way his lips had brushed against your skin, lingered far longer than you wanted it to. You replayed it against your will, analyzing every word, every movement, trying to decipher what it meant, if it meant anything at all.

but Matt was infuriatingly unaffected. If anything, he seemed to enjoy watching you squirm.

on Monday morning, you caught him at breakfast, lounging lazily at the Slytherin table, his tie undone and his gaze sharp. When he noticed you looking, he raised an eyebrow and smirked, as if he knew exactly what was on your mind.

by Tuesday, he had escalated to casual teasing. You were in the library, hunched over a Transfiguration essay, when his shadow fell over your desk.

“Still playing it safe, are we?” he murmured, leaning in just close enough to make your breath hitch. “Thought you’d learned how to take risks by now.”

you glared up at him, determined not to let him win this round, “I have. That’s why I’m ignoring you.”

he laughed, low and amused, before plucking the quill from your hand and twirling it between his fingers. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

and then he was gone, like a light, leaving you fuming and more distracted than ever.

by Wednesday, it was worse. You were on your way to Potions when he appeared beside you as if out of nowhere, his stride matching yours.

“Morning,” he drawled, his voice far too casual for your liking.

you didn’t reply, hoping silence would deter him. It didn’t, it never does.

“Aw, come on,” he teased, leaning in slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about our little… arrangement.”

“Upset?” you snapped, finally looking at him. “I’m not upset. I just don’t have time for your games.”

his smirk widened, “Oh, but you make time for them anyway, don’t you?”

and you hated how right he was.

by Thursday it was the breaking point. You were sitting in the common room, trying and failing to focus on a Charms assignment, when one of your friends, Anabella, plopped down beside you.

“You’ve been distracted all week,” she said, her tone light but probing. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you lied quickly, avoiding her gaze.

she tilted her head, unconvinced, “Is this about that bet?”

you froze, the memory of the dare flashing through your mind, “No,” you said too quickly.

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You were acting weird the moment you got back that night. Did something happen?”

your silence was answer enough.

her eyes widened in realization, and she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper., “Wait… did Matt catch you? What did he do?”

“Nothing,” you said again, though your cheeks betrayed you, heating under her scrutiny.

she smirked, clearly not buying it, “Right. Because Matt is the picture of mercy.”

“Just drop it, okay?”

“Fine,” she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. But her grin told you she wasn’t done prying.

by Friday, you were at your wit’s end. Every encounter with Matt, every sly comment, every stolen glance, had worn you down. You hated how much space he occupied in your mind, how effortlessly he got under your skin.

but what frustrated you the most was that you couldn’t figure out what he wanted. What game was he playing? And why did it feel like you were already losing?

but you weren’t gonna stay distracted, you need to finish out a essay by tonight, and you still had to sneak at the library.

the castle was eerily quiet at this hour, the stone corridors bathed in pale moonlight streaming through the high, arched windows. You clutched the library book tightly to your chest, your footsteps light on the cold floor as you made your way back to the your common room.

sneaking out for this wasn’t your brightest idea, but the nagging feeling of needing to finish your essay had outweighed the risk.

the quiet comfort of the night was shattered the moment you rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone.

“Careful there,” a familiar, lazy voice drawled.

your heart plummeted, of all the people in this vast castle to run into, it had to be Matt.

he was leaning casually against the wall, his tie undone and his green-and-silver robes hanging off one shoulder. His hair was slightly messy, and his lips were curved into that infuriating smirk that seemed to haunt you.

but there was something different about him tonight—his usually crisp, composed demeanor was frayed, and his expression carried a smugness that made your stomach twist.

“Out for a midnight stroll?” he asked, his tone dripping with mockery. His eyes flicked to the book in your hands, but he didn’t linger there. No, his gaze raked over you, sharp and piercing.

you straightened your shoulders, trying to hide the flutter of nerves his presence always seemed to spark. “I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back, though your voice wasn’t as steady as you’d hoped. “What are you doing out this late?”

His smirk deepened, and he took a slow step toward you, “I’ve been busy.”

the way he said it, the way his voice dipped, made your breath hitch. There was no mistaking his meaning.

you suddenly noticed the faint trace of lipstick smudged on the collar of his shirt, the hickies im his neck, the slightly disheveled state of his clothes, and the air of satisfaction radiating off him.

your stomach churned, you didn’t want to think about what—or who—he’d been doing. But the thought planted itself firmly in your mind.

“Busy,” you repeated flatly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “With what? Being an insufferable rat?”

his laugh was low and warm, but there was something dark in it, “You’re jealous, and y’ know yourself that and you don’t have the ability to hide it.”

“Jealous?” you scoffed, your cheeks burning. “Of what? Whatever poor girl had to discover how bad you are at fucking someone?”

Matt tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more dangerous, more intimate, “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart, I think you are just waiting for your turn.”

your breath caught in your throat. You hated the way he could unravel you with a single look, a single word. It wasn’t fair. He had you wrapped around his finger, and you weren’t even sure when it had happened.

“Anyway,” he continued, brushing past you so close that his shoulder grazed yours. “Don’t let me stop you from sneaking back to your dorm, unless…” He paused, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes glinting in the low light. “You’d rather join me for a proper distraction.”

your pulse spiked, a mix of indignation and something you didn’t want to name flaring in your chest. You spun around to face him, your grip tightening on the book. “I think I’ll pass.”

the brunette chuckled, the sound low, as though he knew something you didn’t. “Suit yourself. But if you keep crossing my path like this, we might just have to start calling it fate.”

“More like bad luck,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. But it only seemed to amuse him further

he gave you one last lingering look, his smirk firmly in place, before turning and walking away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

you stood there for a long moment, your heart still racing. As much as you hated to admit it, his presence had a way of getting under your skin. You hated the smugness, the teasing, the games—and yet you couldn’t deny the strange, inexplicable pull he had on you.

with a frustrated sigh, you turned and continued your way back to the your common room, but no matter how far you walked, the echo of his words lingered in your mind.

fate, that’s what he called it.

© waitforyrlove. all rights deserved. do not copy my works. or modify my work.

˙ . ꒷ 🪽 notes from author ˙— send reqs about him pleasee :)

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[brooooswriting]

could you write Leighton Murray having big panics attacks.

She has a lots of problems on top of being terrified of coming out so one day when she's in maths or something. She feels disconnected from herself and goes into a panic attack ♡

Hurt comfort angst

I got you

You didn’t know Leighton all too well, you were in the same math class and shared some other classes. In addition to that, you knew Kimberly from Econ which meant that you saw her every now and then. At some point you had to do some assignment together in math and ever since then you’ve been sitting next to each other. But believe it or not, Leighton wasn’t really someone who talked a lot about her private life. Plus she was actually a really good student, always on top of everything, following the lecture, and she solved most problems Before Most of the others even understood the question.

That was exactly why you were so confused when the blonde came in late, dark bags under her eyes and she was clearly unfocused. Your Supposition was Confirmed when the prof called her out but she only stared ahead. You felt her leg shake against yours and you could see her eyes stare ahead. As someone who could also deal with being anxious you knew these symptoms. While you knew how hard it could be to do anything during those moments you didn’t want her to loose her high standards in this class. So you carefully slid your iPad towards her and pinched her side. She jumped slightly, her head slowly turning to you before you Inconspicuously pointed to the solution.

“That’s right Leighton” the prof ignored the woman’s weird behavior. You guessed that it was since she was normally on top of the class.

“You good?” You asked the blonde as her leg shook harder but you didn’t get an answer. Your eyes switched between the clock and the girl as you tried to figure out what to do. There was class for another half an hour and pulling her out would be weird but you knew how bad these things could get. When you felt her breath speed up you started to panic too. You searched through your bag to find anything that might help.

To your surprise you even found two things that could help. You pulled out your ice cold water and pressed it to her leg which slowly pulled her back before taking out two tissues and scrunching them up against your nose. Your head went back up and your hand shot up. “Yes Mrs. Y/l/n?”

“I’m sorry my nose is bleeding, may I go to the restrooms?” You asked, your other hand still pushing the bottle against Leightons leg. When the prof nodded you added, “Is it okay if Mrs. Murray joins me? I may need another hand” he again nodded and you grabbed the blondes hand to pull her out of the room. Once the door closed you made sure to get her to fresh air behind the building. It was rather secluded so nobody would see her.

“Can you breathe for me Leighton? You’re going into a panic attack darling” you took her hand and placed it on your chest so she could feel you breathe and copy it. It worked a bit as she started to calm down. “Is it okay if I hug you?” You questioned gently, making sure to give her the space to deny.

As soon as she gave you the okay you hugged her. She relaxed into you, her breath slowing down and her leg stopped shaking. “Do you wanna talk about what scared you that bad?” Your voice was soft, something that Leighton always appreciated about you.

“I don’t know” she hesitated, life was being really hard on her at the moment and even though she was pretty sure that you weren’t going to judge she wasn’t sure if she wanted to risk it. You stayed silent, your hand rubbing over her arm to signal her that you were there for her. “I… I am gay” she just busted out, avoiding any eye contact she could have with you.

Which was bad cause she didn't see the smile forming on your lips. Truth be told, you already had a guess that she was as you saw her check you out several times but you didn't know anything for sure. And as someone who was gay themself you knew how hard coming out could be. “Leighton, that is great. Is this what stressed you out so badly?” you asked, looking down at her.

“Yes… and no. It's also Nico who cheated on Maya his long-time girlfriend with Kimberly and broke both their hearts and my stupid community service at the women's center and the whole Kappa thing. It's just I always thought college life was this easy and chill life but it's kinda crushing me at the moment” she explained as she played with the rings on her hand. You chuckled lightly when she was done explaining which made her glare at you.

“Maybe college life isn't easy because you let everybody else decide over your life,” you said, keeping your advice short hoping that she'd explain it to herself but the look she gave you was a clear no. “Why is the thing with Nico stressing you out?”

“Because he hurt Kimberly… and everybody tells me that that was really bad of him and shit but like, I'm not him. I can't do anything about it” She sighed and her shoulders slumped even further.

“Exactly. You can't do anything about it; you didn't know. So don't let that stress you out; instead, focus on helping Kimberly and Maya” She gave you a nod, and you could see that she was still thinking about what you just said. “So why kappa?” you continued.

“Well, my mom was in it, and it is obviously the first step to a particular lifestyle. It's necessary, and I don't want to disappoint my mom.” you nodded along as she talked, acting as if you understood the whole kappa and lifestyle thing.

“Leighton, kappa should be happy to have someone like you. Someone as lovely and caring is hard to find, and if you're just yourself, I can't think of a reason why they wouldn't take you. But if, for some absurd reason, they don't want you, your mom wouldn't be disappointed or mad. She'd love you the same,” you reassured her. The blonde didn't immediately answer; instead, she just stared at her shoes; it was evident that she was dissociating again. You took the cold water bottle out of your bag again, but this time, you opened it and carefully put it in her hand, urging her to drink something as tears brimmed her eyes.

Once she was back with you, you decided just to cut the topic that was probably scarring her the most. “And what makes you so scared to come out?” you questioned, shaking your head when she tried to give you back the bottle.

“I… I like myself. I don't want it to change how people see me and how I act. People will immediately treat me differently and I don't want that!” she explained and you understood where she was coming from. Being treated differently was also what used to scare you.

“I get that. I used to feel the same way, but I realized it can only affect my image and how people see me if I let it. I came out by making out with a girl at a frat party, and from then on, I was incredibly persistent in acting the same. If people wanted to talk about my sexuality, we could, but I made sure that we did it once, and then the topic was done. And you have such a great personality and style that I don't think this could change you.” You grinned at her and nudged her shoulder with yours making her smile at you

“Thank you, you're good at this, and you're so much more understanding than…” she hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should tell you that she's been seeing someone. “Than Alicia” she finished, watching your eyebrows raise and your face fall a bit.

“Alicia, like women's center Alicia?” you asked, nodding when she gave you a yes. “That's... Unexpected.” You had to keep your face in check as your heart broke over the fact that she had a girlfriend.

“Yeah, I know. And for someone who works at a women's center, she's really bad at this, she keeps trying to get me to come out” the blonde asked as she turned to you. Your face turned into an annoyed and angry one at what she just said.

“Don't ever let anyone pressure you into coming out. That's literally the worst thing one can do, and I hope she knows that. You come out when you are ready, not when she wants you to, okay?” you had your hands on her shoulders, ensuring she was listening to you.

“ But if it really hurts her when I'm closeted?”

“Then she shouldn't have committed to this relationship, Leighton. You deserve someone who supports and loves you unconditionally, and honestly, I don't think that Alicia is that person. But I'm here for you if you believe she is.” This time, you avoided eye contact, missing the blonde's heart eyes. She just leaned back into you until you could see her eyes close due to exhaustion.

You smiled slightly before nudging her. “Come on, I'll walk you back to your dorm. You should rest a bit. Panic attacks can be quiet exhausting.” you pulled her up by her hand and grabbed her bag. You took the emptiest road back to her dorm as she looked less styled than usual and you didn't want any rumors.

“Thank you for everything, y/n,” Leighton said as she leaned against the doorway. She didn't want to part ways, but she was too tired to ask you to come inside. The smile you sent her made her heart flutter a bit shocking herself.

“No problem. Here, give me your phone.” She handed you her phone and you quickly typed in your number, saving yourself with a 💕 behind it. You couldn’t wait for Alicia to see your name in her girls phone. “Now go to sleep okay? Text me when you’re awake so I can check up on you” you hugged her and put her bag down in the living room before exiting.

You couldn’t wait for the next couple of days to unfold, getting the girl of your dreams and finally getting back at someone who clearly deserved it.

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Nineteen: Yours, James

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Eighteen - Chapter Twenty ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: You and James are forced to deal with the highly eventful nature of Saturday night

Word Count: 5.6k

The scarlet curtains of your four-poster were closed, though not well. You threw an arm over your face to block out the sunlight shining through the gap, turning over with a groan. Your attempt to go back to sleep did not last long, a rush of adrenaline surging through your veins as the memories of last night flooded your mind. 

James’s lips, your giggling as he whispered in your ear, the cloak over you both as he led you back to the common room, slipping back inside the party, or at least what was left of it. 

You had found Marlene strewn out on the sofa, clearly rather drunk. Sirius was still there as well, half heartedly flirting with a girl in your class, his wine-stained smile strained. There were only stranglers left, the morning fast approaching. Marlene asked you where you went, but you only said you took a walk, which was good enough for her in her hazy state. She told you Lily and Dorcas had already gone to bed, leaving you to follow in their footsteps. As you went to head up the stairs, you glanced back at James, waving his wand across a table littered with empty bottles and cigarette ash. His eyes found yours, sparkling like twin stars. 

You sat up in bed, your hands fisting into your blanket as your heart pounded. You couldn’t tell if what you were feeling was joy or dread, or perhaps an unnatural mixture of the two. Even through your racing thoughts, the unmistakable gnaw of guilt dug its way to the surface. You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, your stomach churning as you pondered what the fuck you were going to do. 

You took a deep breath, peeking through the curtains. Lily and Marlene’s beds were empty, though Dorcas still seemed to be in hers, likely sleeping off a wicked hangover. Hesitantly, you tiptoed to the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind you. You caught your reflection in the mirror, mildly a wreck, a little tired, though not too bad given the circumstances. 

You filled the basin with water, scrubbing your face as if it would rid you of last night's deeds. You could still feel the cold wind on your skin, the touch of his lips to yours, his voice like honey as he told you he loved you. You had gotten exactly what you wanted, the thing you had dreamt of countless nights, though it still wasn’t enough. You wanted James risk-free, you wanted to be with him and still have Lily as your best friend, no complications. You leaned your hands on the edge of the sink, you head hung towards your chest. 

A bitter laugh bubbled from you, a last ditch effort to try and come to terms with what you were faced with. At least at the present moment, you recognized two options: preserve your friendship with Lily at all costs, or put it in jeopardy. The former meant pushing James away, the latter meant continuing whatever was going on with him. As you stuck your toothbrush into your mouth, a permanent crease in your brow, you wondered what was going on with him. You hadn’t exactly defined your relationship the night prior, though it was safe to assume you could no longer consider him just a friend. 

By the time you got dressed, you still had no idea what you were going to do. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see James when you went down to the common room, unsure of how you would act, what you would say around the others. For all you knew, everyone could already know. If you had it your way, you’d run over to him, wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him like you had last night. But you couldn’t, shouldn’t, not with so much at stake. 

You descended the stairs with bated breath, your hands shaking as you saw Lily drinking a cup of tea in one of the armchairs nestled in the corner, a textbook in her lap. She was entirely alone and did not seem angry in the slightest. You couldn’t help but stare at her for a moment, memorizing the peaceful expression on her face, the color of her hair like the mountains in autumn. It felt as if every second was precious, every day she still loved you to be remembered fondly. 

She looked up from her work as you approached, offering you a kind smile, another thing to recall once she never wanted to speak to you again. You forced a casual look as you threw yourself into the seat across from her, still unable to meet her eyes. 

“Long night?” she asked, chuckling a bit at your demeanor, which she must have taken for grogginess.

“You could say that,” you said, glancing around the common room. “Where is everyone?”

“Marlene’s in the Library with Mary. I don’t know where the guys are.”

You raised your brows. “You didn’t go with them?”

“I wanted to wait for you,” she said, her lips pulling into a line. She hesitated a moment before speaking, careful with her words, “Are you all right, after what happened last night?” 

You nodded, preparing yourself for a whole new set of lies. Instead of pretending you didn’t like him at all, now you had to pretend that you both weren’t hopelessly in love with each other. 

You swallowed, trying to prepare yourself as much as you could, “Yeah, I just got a bit shaken, s’all. I needed to get out of the party for a minute, take a walk.”

You held your breath again, the air thick as you waited for her to react. She didn’t seem to feel any of your nervousness, nodding as she closed her book and grabbed her cup. 

“Lets get some breakfast,” she said, standing with a small smile.  

You were hungry, though for the first time in your life, you didn’t want to be alone with her. Usually it was James you had to avoid, skirting around invitations, excusing yourself to do your homework. Unfortunately for you, that would not work with Lily. She would catch on right away, cornering you with that sympathetic look of hers, practically forcing you into telling her what was going on. You could never resist it, hence why she knew every single secret of yours, except for one. 

“Sure,” you said, having no other choice. 

Realistically, you wondered how long you could keep it from her even with all your lies. For now she seemed none the wiser, pleased as she carried her things with her as you headed out of the common room. Behind you in the corridor the Fat Lady was singing an Italian opera, just out of pitch enough to raise the hair on the back of your neck.  

“No, per pieta, sei mia! V’aspenttan gli amici. Gia mi mandi via?”

Lily glanced behind back, watching as the Fat Lady swayed as if she were basking in the lights of the Teatro La Fenice. “Lovely work!” she said, smiling as the Fat Lady stopped, giggling girlishly. 

“My painter, Lorenzo Matero, said I was made for the stage,” said the Fat Lady, brushing a curling strand of hair from her face. She continued to sing, just as poorly as before, “Vorrei dir, ma non osso. Di! Se venissi con voi?”

You both scurried down the corridor towards the staircase, trying to keep your snickers down. 

When you were far enough away, Lily sighed, shaking her head with another laugh. “Even if she’s awful, I think I'd miss it if she stopped.”

“Really?” you asked, looking at her from the corner of your eye. 

She shrugged. “It’s sort of sweet, right?”

“Yeah, in a way,” you said, smiling despite your ever-present anxiety. It was hard not to smile around Lily. “I wonder how she learned them.”

“Maybe there was a student who was really into opera,” Lily suggested.

You laughed, “Well if there was, they have any idea what kind of trouble they caused.”

“I thought we agreed it was nice,” she said, her eyes playfully narrowed. 

You didn’t say anything for a moment, your hands finding their way into your pockets. “You think everything is nice.”

You were able to get through your early lunch in the kitchens without passing out from the stress, though it wasn’t easy. At every chance you turned the conversation towards one of your shared classes, discussing your Charms assignment or your trouble studying for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s. Thankfully, Lily seemed just as happy to go over the boring details of Transfiguration theory as anything else. You nodded along, trying your best not to let the festering guilt show in your expression. 

You grew more jittery on your way back to Gryffindor Tower, realizing it was becoming more and more imperative to your mental wellbeing that you talked with James. You feared he would be around every corner, waiting to ambush you with declarations of love like he had done with Lily a few years ago. The memory made your chest tight, a sliver of insecurity weaseling its way past the airy, spirited feeling of new love. 

When you and Lily entered the common room you thought you might faint. Having worked yourself up during the long walk back, the sight of James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter by the fire was nearly enough to push you over the edge. With no other choice, you followed Lily to the group, hoping you were a prized actress. 

“How's the headaches?” Lily teased, looking around at them. 

Sirius stretched out his legs with a cocky smile, his jeans riding up to reveal mismatched socks, again. “None for me, sister.”

Although he seemed recovered, Sirius was a little paler than normal, a slight tinge of purple under his eyes. It looked less unkempt on him than it would on anyone else, like a rockstar after a show. Remus was fine, of course, Peter only sleep deprived. James…well, James looked as handsome as ever, though you were not an unbiased judge. His curls were untamed, his arm thrown over the back of the sofa. The sight of him made your heart leap, everything in you screaming to simply let your eyes soften as you looked at him. 

You fought against it, leaning against the back of the armchair that Peter was sitting in before poking your head down. “How many did you have last night?” 

Peter shrugged weakly, scrunching his nose as he turned to look up at you. “Didn’t count.”

“You should’ve seen Meadowes,” said Sirius with a bark of laughter. “She went double or nothing in Sparks with Moony.”

“Now, why would you let her do that, Remus?” Lily sighed, giving him a strong look of disapproval.

“Free will,” he said, his smile small but cheeky. 

Lily shook her head, though it was rare she stayed upset with him. In a few minutes his wrongdoings would be entirely forgotten. 

“Won’t share any of your potion with her?” you asked Sirius, trying your best not to let your eyes drift to James, who had been staring at you since you arrived. You felt your face heating, your fingers digging into the cushion of the chair. 

“Of course he won’t,” Remus said. 

Sirius glared at James and Remus, who were each laughing at him, flicking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. “It’s a bitch to make,” he said, scoffing as if it would make it better. “It’s her fault, anyway. Who goes double or nothing against him?”

Lily pursed her lips, glancing at the girl’s staircase. “I should go check on her. She might want me to bring her up some lunch.”

You watched her closely as she left, flying up the staircase with her textbook tucked under her arm. Before you could stop yourself, you turned back to James, pushing off the armchair with newfound bravery. 

“I was wondering if I could ask you a question about a spell I want to try for dueling. I found it in the library, but I’ve never heard of it before.”

“What spell is that?” Sirius asked with a smirk, bloodcurdling and conniving. 

“Oh, uh,” you faltered, quickly trying to make up a spell in your head. “Ingarius scintillum. Ever heard of it?”

His stare was like hot ice, freezing you over. “No, I haven’t,” he said slowly, his head tilting as his eyes roved over you. 

James stood, his face lacking any acknowledgment of what he surely knew was a ploy to get him alone. He skirted around Remus’s legs, moving towards you. 

“C’mon, we shouldn’t talk about it here anyway,” he said, his voice a bit clipped towards the end. 

He glanced back at Sirius, though you could only see the latter’s expression, still enjoying the show. He placed a hand on your shoulder, sending a spark running down your arm as he turned you around towards the portrait. You could hear a soft snicker from Sirius as you went out into the corridor, relaxing when you were finally free of his teasing. 

You didn’t have enough time to fully appreciate the fact that you were alone before he grabbed your hand, motioning down the hall. “Let’s get out of here.”

With your fingers entwined, he pulled you towards the south side of the castle, the corridors encircling courtyards frequented by Gryffindors looking to study outside. There was nothing much this way but old lookouts from a bygone era when Hogwarts acted as a battleground. You hoped this place would never see that again, remaining untainted by the harshest realities of the war. 

In a matter of minutes there wasn’t a student or professor in sight, James hiding you each away in a small alcove, its rounded window overlooking Hogsmeade in the distance. He dropped your hand, a faint smile on his lips as he looked at you, lit by the rays bursting through a cloudless sky. You smiled as well, unable to stop yourself. You felt giddy, and as you had put it to Marlene all those weeks ago, thirteen again. Even so, this was entirely different from all the other teenage flings that scattered your past like rogue ink blots on an otherwise presine paper. You had never been in love, and no one had been in love with you. It was a new, undeniably fantastic feeling, blinding you to all else. 

“Hi,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. 

“Hi,” he said back, more amused than anything. After a beat his smile dropped, though not completely. The longer he remained silent, the more you thought he seemed nervous, perhaps for the first time since you’ve known him. “You still feel the same, right?” he asked, as if doubtful of his own words. 

Taken up by the excitement of your covert meeting, you momentarily forgot about the guilt eating away at you. The heaviness in your chest was replaced by sparks of heady joy, beguiled by his uncertainty. You grinned, lost in the look of him. “Of course, I do.”

He brightened, practically glowing. “I— really?”

“Yeah, really,” you laughed, shaking your head at him. Soon, however, the feeling settled, leaving you to remember the purpose of getting him alone in the first place. You bit your lip, sighing as you broke the moment. “We have to talk about this, how we’re gonna do things,” you said, watching as his smile dropped away to furrowed brows. 

“What d’you mean?”

“You and me,” you said, motion between you. “Our situation is a little abnormal, don’t you think?”

“What’s abnormal about it? We were mates and now we’re in love. It’s fairly typical, when you think about it,” he said with a shrug. He seemed eager to continue your initial conversation, his fingers hanging off the pockets of his jeans. 

You took a moment to think of how you could word it, knowing that in a way, he was right. However, the fact that he and Lily had dated seemed to conveniently slip his mind. 

“I know you don’t think Lily will be upset, but I really think she might be miffed with me,” you said, cringing at the thought of having to tell her you kissed her ex boyfriend. “Just imagine that Sirius started dating Lily. How would you feel?”

James paused to consider this scenario, his face becoming mildly repulsed. “That’s completely different. It’s Sirius. He’s my mate and all…but you have to admit that's different than you and me.” 

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “How so?” 

“Number one, that’d never happen,” he began, completely sure of his statement. “Number two, it’s Sirius.”

You rolled your eyes, though he did have a point. Your arms fell to your sides again, twitchy and in need of something to do. “What about Remus, then?”

“I’d be fine,” he said enthusiastically. “Sure, it’d be weird seeing them together at first, but I’d get over it. It might actually make me happy, Remus is a good guy.”

“It’s just different with us. I don’t know how to explain it,” you said, your shoulders slumping. 

He stepped in front of you, forcing you to look him in the eyes. You had always loved them, the color, the shape, the way they unabashedly told you how he felt. Now, it was love. 

“I love you, Y/N. And Godric, I’ve fancied you for—” he stopped, swallowing as his gaze darted across your face, hurried yet distinctly sentimental. You wished you didn’t have business to attend to, for any other time you would have kissed him silly. “Whatever happens, even if she’s absolutely livid, it’ll be okay in the end. Even if Sirius started dating Lily I’d get over it eventually. I’d just have to.”

“How long?” you asked, the question falling out of you before you could think. 

“How long what?”

“How long have you fancied me?” 

Your heart raced as you watched his blush deepen, pink across his cheeks. He smiled sheepishly, his gaze drifting away. For once, you were the one watching him sweat. 

“Tell me,” you said, trying to stop yourself from laughing. 

He resisted for a few more seconds, slowly cracking under your scrutiny. He dipped his head down, his hair flopping onto his forehead. “Since last year,” he mumbled. 

“Last year!” you exclaimed, far louder than you should have. “When last year?” you asked quickly, the idea that you and James had been fawning over each other for this long nearly too much to process. 

He shrugged, still uncharacteristically shy. A guilty part of you reveled in it, though not enough to drag it out any longer. You wanted to know, and you wanted to know now. 

“C’mon,” you begged, slowly dying the longer he held out. 

“You’re not gonna like it,” he said warily. You only stared at him, urging him to speak. “It may have been a contributing factor to me and Lily, y’know, throwing in the towel.”

Your mouth hung open for a moment, searching his expression for falsehoods. You found none. “Merlin’s beard, are you kidding me?”

“I didn’t tell her that, of course, but I feel like she had a pretty good idea,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“What do you mean…a pretty good idea?” you asked, dread rushing like a cold sweat from your head to your feet.

“I don’t know,” he said, his hand flying from his neck in an exacerbated fit. “I just have a feeling she might know something. I have to be at least somewhat obvious, cause Padfoot’s been on my arse for a month now—”

“Oh, that's my fault,” you said with an apologetic, somewhat embarrassed expression. His perplexity was evident, his mouth ajar as he stared at you. You sighed, your head hanging for a moment as you prepared to explain yourself. “He knows that I fancy you. He found out the night of the quidditch match in February.”

His eyes widened. “Thats why you’ve been so pissy with him! I felt like I was going mad.” 

“He’s been the worst. I told Marlene in the corridor during the party, and then he found out where we were on the map and talked to a fucking portrait. Said he was bored, the little shit,” you grumbled, pausing for a moment as you remembered his earlier statement. “Why do you think Lily knows?” 

“Did she ever tell you about when we broke up?” he asked, his voice back down to a whisper. 

“Sort of,” you began, casting your mind back to the day. You had all stayed up the entire night in your dormitory, Marlene cursing James out the entire time. Lily was quiet, though not in awful spirits, insistent that it was for the best. “She said that you guys fought too much, but that she was the one who thought you two should break up. She said it was— I don’t know— amicable in the end.”

It felt wrong to discuss it with James, almost sinful, especially after last night. You wished you didn’t have to, that things were different. 

He nodded, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “That's basically it. But when we were talking about it she said something to me, and it made me think that she knew, and it scared me shitless at the time,” he let out a short breath from his nose, almost chuckling at the memory. You didn’t say anything, waiting for him to drop the dungbomb. “She said something like we weren’t meant for eachother, and that she knew she wasn’t the one I wanted to be with anymore. She thought we should just cut our losses. At first I didn’t really know what she meant by the second part, but I figured I wouldn’t argue, because she was right. We weren’t meant for each other.” 

You took a breath, gnawing at your lip. “You really think she meant me?”

His adams apple bobbed, his face blank for a beat before his expression relaxed, his mouth barely turning up at the corners. “Do you remember when you had that History of Magic project where you had to research an invention within the last century, and you chose Sleekeazy’s?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit embarrassed given the hindsight. You ended up sending a few letters back and forth with Mr. Potter, who was kind enough to answer all your questions, almost overjoyed that someone would ask. 

“When you asked me if you could, do you remember what I said to you?” he asked, a small twinkle in his eyes. 

You laughed a bit, having no clue where he was going with any of this. “No, I don’t.”

“I said, ‘He’ll be so happy, he’ll think he’s hearing wedding bells.’ And then you said something like, ‘You’re ridiculous, James!’” his voice went high-pitched, the worst impression ever given, though you still laughed. “And you did that, you laughed, and I remember thinking, Godric, I’m in trouble, cause I want to hear her laugh forever,” he stopped, as if he was chewing his words before he said them. “Lily was there, she saw the way I looked at you. When I saw that she saw, I hoped she didn’t catch it, but in the back of my mind I knew that she would. How could she not?”

You didn’t know what to say, your mouth opening and then closing again. Nothing made sense any longer, all your previous notions having flown out the window. You wondered if he could be right, if Lily really had caught on to his crush. Did that mean she knew about yours as well? 

Despite all of this, you threw yourself into his chest like you had wanted to all day, letting him squeeze you so tightly it was almost too much. Everything was nearly perfect, so close it was all the more painful that it wasn’t. But for now, this was heaven. 

James placed his hand on your jaw, tilting your head to look at him. He seemed stricken by something wonderful, a fleeting poignancy crossing his face before he pressed his lips to yours. It was a kiss that could turn the world to gold. Your heart was still racing when you each pulled away, fuzzy with the feeling of him.

“We don’t have to tell anyone, if you don’t want,” he began, hesitant as his gaze drifted from yours, down to your lips and over your cheeks. Wherever his eyes went you felt beautiful, more than you ever have in your entire life. 

You could tell he wanted to speak more, though he wouldn’t meet your eyes, his bright smile fading. You frowned, moving just slightly away from where you were buried in his chest. 

“I’m sorry, James,” you said, a new kind of guilt taking over. “We can tell them, if you want, if it means that much to you.”

All at once you decided that you’d do a lot more for him than you had thought. It almost frightened you how much you’d give for him, though you realized it was most certainly the same on his end, maybe even worse if you were to believe Marlene. Still, you wanted to hold whatever you had with him out longer, keep it hidden in all its magnificence just until it felt a bit more real. Even if he was right, if Lily already knew and it would all turn out okay, your love seemed safe in its privacy, as if anything outside of it had no effect. In your distorted, love-stricken vision, right now no one was real except for you and him.

“It’s not that,” he said, again growing unsteady, nervous as he held you. “It’s just— you’re my girl, right?”

You stopped your effervescence from flowing out in the form of a celebratory laugh, choosing instead to grin, reaching your hand up to brush his temple with the back of your fingers. You twirled one of his dark curls, soft to the touch. “I’ve always been your girl.”

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

Sunday had been filled with a never ending anxiety over your friends noticing a difference in either you or James, though neither of you had yet to give it away within twenty-four hours. Over breakfast on Monday, a few comments were made about the way James seemed to buzz in his seat even more so than usual, though he was able to brush them off with a joke, punctuated by a single, charming smile. Unlike James, your newfound avidity for the existence in a star-fated love had kept you up all night long, leaving your Monday self to pay the price in the form of half-lidded eyes and the desire to skive off.

You left the library for History of Magic, daydreaming about the way James had looked at you when you parted ways in the Entrance Hall as you turned down the window lined corridor above the courtyard. Your sweet imaginings, laced with the knowledge that you’d see him again in just over an hour, were cut short when you heard the sound of your name being called out behind you. The voice was distinctly girlish, somehow breathy even as it strained against the sound of the students in the corridor. You turned around, seeing Sybill zigzagging through the crowd, frantically waving a hand. You stopped, growing a bit embarrassed as she reached you, her heavy bag whipping forward. 

“Your aura!” she said, her eyes wide. “It had improved before, but now— did you take the Animaura Draught?”

You cringed at her volume, hoping that no one had been listening very closely. It didn’t seem so, though that didn’t stop you from speaking just loud enough for her to hear, “No, I went the natural route.” 

She didn’t seem to catch our sarcasm, her mouth parting as she continued to look you over in amazement. “It’s a most vibrant shade of cerise, maybe a bit of rose around the edges…have you had a transcendental experience recently?”

You shook your head, taken aback by her question. What would count as transcendental, anyway?

“Not that I can recall,” you answered. 

She hummed, pursing her lips, her hands wringing around the strap of her bag. “How interesting. Has Professor Quattlebaum mentioned it to you at all?”

“No,” you said, pulling up the sleeve of your robe to check your watch. It was nearly eleven forty-five, meaning the bell tower would soon ring in the start of third period. “I have to go, Sybill, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, yes, I have Transfiguration,” she sighed, almost sadly. “Perhaps I will see you later.”

You stared at her, mildly perplexed as she walked past you. She only got a few paces away before you called out to her, more confused than ever, “Wait! How do you know my name?”

She stopped, spinning around with the countenance of a mildly intrigued rabbit. “Oh, did you not tell it to me?” she asked, her voice far off. 

You slowly shook your head, her curiosity obviously diminishing. 

“What a funny thing, though I do have a way with names,” she said, continuing again down the corridor. You let her go, watching as her hair bounced behind her like a flaxen cotton ball. 

“Don’t be a dick,” Dorcas huffed, trying to snatch the Prophet from Sirius, who was having far too much fun evading her attempts. 

He pulled it away one more time before allowing her to take it, cackling as she ripped it from his hands. She flipped through the pages, groaning when she saw the quidditch scores. 

“Tutshill is such shite this season,” she said, throwing the paper back down into Sirius’s lap.

It was late, the common room quiet and rather empty. You were fighting off the urge to go to sleep despite spending the day pining for your bed. You simply couldn’t bring yourself to leave, as if James wouldn’t be there in the morning. You hadn’t been alone with him since Sunday, his quidditch practice leaving you both unable to excuse yourself to the RoR after classes. 

You tried not to look lovestruck as you watched him, perched on the arm of the sofa as he and Dorcas began debating the likelihood of the Wimborne Wasps making it to the quidditch world cup. Soon, Sirius was chiming in with his own predictions, talking up Puddlemere in the process. Within a matter of minutes the conversation had derailed into Sirius’s passionate retelling of the 1974 League Cup final, in which Puddlemere beat Ballycastle against incredible odds. 

Dorcas and James were rapidly losing interest, Dorcas rolling her eyes as Sirius went on about the final play. Your gaze met James’s, a fleeting expression of infatuation crossing his face before he turned away again, ready to pick on Sirius to save himself from suspicion. 

“That was four years ago,” he said, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. “After they got Fanthorne it was the beginning of the end. Puddlemere oughta to fire him, he’s the worst coach in the league.” 

Peter nodded, moving to speak before Sirius shot him a look of warning. He threw up a hand, burying himself back into his chair.  

“It’s just an off season,” said Sirius, turning back to James. “They shouldn’t have resigned Turner s’all.”

“You like Fanthorne?” Dorcas drawled, side-eying him. 

Sirius sunk down into the sofa, shrugging her off. “Yeah, I think he’s pretty good.”

Dorcas snorted, “You’re in denial. He’s fucking awful.”

“Always has to be quidditch, doesn’t it?” you teased, your cheeks warming at James’s laugh. Ever since Saturday night, every smile he gave you, every laugh meant something greater. You knew you shouldn’t read into every little word, every shift in his expression, though it felt impossible not to. I made him laugh, and he loves me, you’d think, each time without fail. It only made it worse with the knowledge that he thought the same.

“You’re telling me,” Remus muttered.

“They can’t help themselves,” said Lily, looking up from her spot on the carpet where she was playing a game of wizards chess with Marlene. “It’s in their nature.”

“There isn’t anything natural about liking Tutshill,” Sirius said, proud of his own cleverness. 

It was getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open, even if James was in front of you. You yawned, curling up more into your armchair, your head resting in your palm. 

Marlene twisted around, laughing at your state. “Go to bed,” she said, moving to shove your knee. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Thanks, Marls,” you droned as you sat up, finally willing to give in to necessity. 

She only rolled her eyes, turning back around. 

You grabbed your bag lying on the floor, heaving it over your shoulder before saying goodnight, your gaze lingering on James a moment longer than the rest. He smiled softly, biting his lip to stop himself from breaking out into a grin. 

“Goodnight, sweet prince,” Lily called as you went towards the stairs, her voice like wind chimes. 

You laughed, though it tasted sour on your tongue. 

When you got back to your dormitory you began unpacking your books, replacing them with those you’d need for tomorrow. As you placed your Transfiguration notes onto your desk, a slip of parchment fell out, dancing like a feather to the floor. You picked it up and unfolded it, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you saw the handwriting, nearly illegible. 

Meet me by the vegetable patch tomorrow after fourth period.

Yours, James  

Chapter Twenty

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile

[sugoi-and-spice]

Commission for the AMAZINGLY patient @i-likebread . Thank you so much for such a fun idea and again, for your patience during my summer writing dry spell. ^_^

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader, Yuji Itadori x Reader

Summary: At the end of the day, curses were trophic beings. Sukuna? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed. Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. The prey.

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

CW: Dub-Con, Non-Con, Rape by Deception, Cuckholding, Rough Sex, Virginity Loss, Painful Virginity Loss, Manipulation, mentions of Ero-Guro

If you're interested in getting your own Commission done, please refer to my Commission Sheet and shoot me a DM or e-mail! ^_^

Cross-Posted on AO3.

Everyone had told Yuji Itadori that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea. After all, just dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer at all came with its fair share of risks. Dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer while sharing a body with the King of Curses? It should’ve rendered him completely celibate. But to go beyond that, to not only date, but to date a normal, powerless girl with absolutely no knowledge of the existence of Jujutsu society and curses?

Now that was downright stupid.

Those were Gojo’s words too! Satoru Gojo’s — the stupid idea savant! That had certainly gotten Yuji to second guess things. When he left to meet her for their first official date, he’d gone there with all the intentions of breaking things off. But then…

Well, there wasn’t any big revelation. She’d just been her. And he just couldn’t let her go. There were very few moments in his life these days that were able to be just sweet and simple. So any he could have, he knew that he had to cling to, and cling to tight. And moments spent with her? They made him feel like life would never be complicated again.

So six months later, here they were at the matsuri of a temple near her school. And boy, watching her knelt over the shateki stall, silly little tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrated so deeply on the balloon she was aiming at, could he not regret it any less. Especially not when she looked so damn cute in that yukata.

POP!

 “I got it!” she jumped back from the carnival game with a squeal, accidentally knocking Yuji in the chest with the pellet gun.

“Oomf—!”

She gasped, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” and rushed forward to check his chest, almost hitting him in the face this time, “Are you hurt?!”

He was able to anticipate it this time though, catching the muzzle of the rifle in his palm with a laugh, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just put this down, alright?”

She relinquished it immediately, bringing her hands to her face to try and cover her blush as she nodded frantically. The moment had finally caught up to her, the fact that she’d almost taken him out twice with the toy rifle and got completely in his face, touching his chest. And the cutest embarrassment came along with it. 

That was one of the things he really liked about her. She was shy and soft-spoken, but that didn’t stop her from ever living or hiding her true feelings when push came to shove. Especially when they involved other people. She often got ahead of herself, feet moving before her brain, throwing manners out the window if it meant helping somebody in need, blurting out the silliest little nonsensicals to try to ease an awkward silence. But never failing to revert back to that shyness and feel embarrassed about it in a way that always brought a smile to his face.

“Your prize, Miss.”

They both turned back to the game-tender, and Yuji instantly froze when he saw the prize being handed to her.

A little yarn doll, just big enough to be a keychain, and it— holy shit, it looked like—

“Aww, look at him Yuji!” she beamed, holding the doll up next to his face, “It looks just like you!”

He could feel his heart freeze with dread, his stomach twisting.

“W-What are you talking about?! No it doesn’t! It’s got tattoos!”

“Yeah. And four arms,” she rolled her eyes, “But look! It’s got your hair and eyes and that mischievous little smirk,” she wiggled it closer to his cheek, “That’s all troublemaker. All Yuji Itadori.” 

He swatted the little doll away from his face, growing more and more prickly the longer she held it so close to him, “Is not!”

She giggled, taking his whining as embarrassment over being teased rather than anything serious,and pulled the doll back to clutch into her own palms lovingly.

“And it’s cute…” she blushed a little as she whispered, “...just like you.”

Yuji softened at the sight. 

He needed to take it easy. It’s not like she could know the history there, the thing it actually looked like — he’d made absolute sure that she hadn’t, after all.

But still, the question remained:

“What’s it supposed to be anyway?” he asked, “A mascot or something?”

He had to know, it was just uncanny how much it looked like Sukuna. And this temple didn’t have any ties to the Jujutsu world that he knew of. Not that he knew a lot. But he hadn’t seen any sorcerers or cursed energy residuals in the area. If anything, it was weird how few curses — even flyheads — were in this area, considering how old the temple was.

“I guess it’s the guardian spirit of this temple,” she answered.

Yuji’s eyes widened. No. No, there was no freaking way.

“This thing?” he pressed in disbelief, “But he— I mean it looks more like a demon than a guardian spirit.”

“That’s kind of the interesting thing!” she explained excitedly, “My homeroom teacher was telling us about it last week. I think the story goes, that in a war between spirits and humans, the peasants this temple served were constantly caught in the crossfire. That is, until a dedicated, benevolent demon came along and vowed to protect the temple even while the rest of the world burnt around it.”

She presented the doll to him, “This little guy is that demon.”

It was all Yuji could do to not roll his eyes at her. Okay. Now he knew it was just a coincidence. Because sure. Benevolent. That’s what Sukuna was. 

What a bunch of crap.

Oi. Sukuna suddenly gruffed in his head. I’m plenty fucking benevolent. 

Yuji went rigid. Sukuna didn’t talk to him often. And honestly, he preferred it that way. He could nap and plot and flit away the time however he did in his own soul, while Yuji enjoyed the life surrounding his. Rarely did he actually tune in and observe Yuji’s life unless there was a battle or an… opportunity at hand.

So the fact that he seemed to be paying attention now was more than a bit worrying. 

What, you gonna tell me that the story is true or something? Yuji snapped right back at his squatter bodymate. That you actually protected a temple?

Could be.

Yuji’s breath hitched.

O-Oh yeah? he demanded, trying to not reveal his wavering confidence. And what was the catch? There’s no way you were some guardian out of the goodness of your heart.

He could practically hear Sukuna smirk inside his head and it unnerved him. Sukuna was privy to all kinds of information about curses and Jujutsu that Yuji learned at school, a lot of which even involved the King of Curses himself. Yet he hardly had anything to comment on then. So why was he so damn talkative about this story?

I protected the shrine… Never said shit about the people in it. And then that horrible, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s echoed in his head.

“Shut up!”

“Huh?”

Yuji snapped back to his girlfriend, who stared back at him with wide, confused eyes. Shit. He said that outloud, didn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up— no way they’ve got fluffy ice!” he tried to save, pointing past her to a nearby stall, “We gotta get some!”

She looked behind her, following his finger, and then laughed, relieved that it was something as simple as that rather than something she might have said, “I swear, all you ever think about is food, Yuji.”

“That’s not true… I think about you a lot.”

…is what Yuji would’ve said if he were smoother, more confident, and convinced that a line like that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. But of course, he wasn’t any of those things. So he just rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh and nodded when she suggested they go get in line for some.

He wanted to just enjoy the night, to forget about curses and Jujutsu and most of all Sukuna — he practically dared the curse to make another fucking remark, to get all of his unwelcome commentary out now while he could. But the inside of his head had gone, thankfully, radio silent. So he made peace with the fact that Sukuna had gotten bored with all of this and had gone back into his own soul to sleep.

But no. Sukuna was not gone, nor bored. Far from it.

He was hungry.

Sukuna watched Yuji’s little girlfriend through his host’s eyes.

He’d excused himself to go use the restroom soon after they’d gotten their fluffy ice to split, and now he’d just stopped to watch her, sitting on a bench near the edge of the temple, the mouth of the forest, and enjoying her frozen treat with childish glee. The lovestruck fool was living in the moment, watching her with a heart full of warmth and just wanting to take it all in.

For Sukuna however, his stare was full of a hunger growing more and more ravenous with every second.

Of course she looked delicious at all times.  In her school uniform (girl’s uniforms were one of the few innovations of this era he could fully get behind), in her gym clothes the times she and Yuji went jogging together. Even that little floral sundress number she’d worn on their last date had really gotten his motor going. She was just a gorgeous little thing, and exactly his type.

Sickeningly sweet and salaciously stupid.

 But there was something about her right now, dolled up in a snow white yukata, walking under the warm glow of the traditional lanterns, down the path of a temple he once called home — she looked like she could have existed just like this, a thousand years ago. That she could’ve encountered him when he was at the height of his power, looking just like this.

It took everything in him not to utter “Extension” and tear her to pieces in front of every pair of prying eyes right here on this stone path. 

But no. He had to control himself.

He had to plan his moves carefully, he couldn’t just cause havoc willy-nilly, not without raising an unignorable alarm for the Jujutsu Sorcerers to put Yuji Itadori and himself down like Old Yeller. No, now was not the time to rape and pillage and have his fun.

It didn’t mean he was happy about it, though.

Somehow, there was something even worse about not being able to have his way in this form then it had been when his soul was fractured for a thousand years. At least before he’d manifested, he was held back by the fact that it was impossible to do anything else — he literally couldn’t have physically let loose even if he wanted to. He was essentially stuck in purgatory.

But now, when he had the full ability to ravage but had to keep himself in check, with only himself and his self-preservation to answer to? God, it practically fucking burned. It wasn’t right. If he didn’t get some kind of outlet soon, he was going to go crazy. 

It was like he was a dog, kept chained and locked up within the cage of his own skin. But that’s not what he was. He wasn’t a fucking housepet. He was a hunter, a predator.

And a damned good one at that.

There was a huge difference between other Curses and Sukuna. The sorcerers had decided to define this difference by grades. But Sukuna believed that the real explanation was much less academic, much more simple.

After all, just because a curse was “Special Grade” didn’t mean that it was worth a damn. It could have all the cursed energy in the world, but if it didn’t know how to properly hunt? It’d be lucky to last a century. 

They were trophic beings at the end of the day.

Low-level Curses, like flyheads? They were, at best, Primary Consumers. If he were being blunt, most of them were Producers, barely above algae. They tended to draw in more Jujutsu Sorcerers than they were worth. Sitting fucking ducks.

That waste of space from the Juvenile Detention Center? A Secondary Consumer. He could pick off the herbivores that were humans. Injured zebras falling behind the herd like his host and the little girl with the hammer.

And the little patchwork punk? The one that dared to put his pathetic mitts on his soul twice? Sukuna would be generous and call him a Tertiary Consumer. He sure did give that Seven to Three Sorcerer and his host a run for their money.

But Sukuna, himself? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed.

Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. 

The prey.

…

Okay, so maybe she was some low-hanging fruit, but it’s not like he could be too choosy. And boy was she ripe for the picking.

Besides, a top of the food chain hunter such as himself knew how to make some fun, a chase out of anything. 

Yes, little Yuji Itadori should’ve listened to his teachers. Dating a non-sorcerer, bringing such a tempting piece of meat into his eyeline and waving it around so proudly was a very bad idea.

And Sukuna lived for bad ideas.

“Extension.”

She perked up as Yuji re-approached, “Hey—!” then paused, head cocking as she noticed something… different about him.

“What’s with the…?” she gestured over her face, indicating the black marks now running across his skin.

“They were doing some face-painting at one of the booths,” he answered simply, lowly, “Looks good, right?”

She flushed a bit at the timber of his voice, eyes dropping to the cup of fluffy ice in her hands. Even imitating Itadori, there was a huskiness, a darkness in Sukuna’s voice that couldn’t be masked. And it sent shivers straight up his prey’s lovely spine.

“Y-Yeah… Looks really good.”

He smirked. Trap set.

“Really good, huh?” he purred, sitting on the bench not only next to her, but with his legs pressing hard against hers.

Her cheeks flushed, giggling as he slid his arm behind her shoulders on the bench, and giddy embarrassment set her body afloat. She liked this, liked it a lot. She always wanted Yuji to sweet-talk and touch her like this, more than she really should honestly. But she was way too embarrassed to ever admit that herself. So this extra flirty mood he seemed to be in at the moment was sending her straight to Cloud 9.

“...Uh— Uh-huh. R-Really good.”

She hazarded a look at his face again, the intensity, the uninhibited desire burning like coal in those lazy-lidded eyes sending an all new feeling of excitement through her body. One she’d been denying for a while.

With a squeak, she looked back forward, jutting the cup of fluffy ice over in his general direction, “D-Do you want some more?!”

He barely paid the measly little treat any mind, far more invested in the delicacy so pretty and wrapped up in an obi for him. 

“Yeah, why not.”

She turned towards him, eyes focussing on his tight chest rather than his sinful eyes, so that she could pick up the spoon and feed him. But before she could even touch the utensil, he reached past it, towards her, and caught a little drip of sweet syrup at the corner of her mouth with his thumb. 

Her breath hitched, loud and embarrassingly. But this only seemed to spur him on. He brushed it slowly along the length of her lower lip, pressing it in ever so slightly when he got to the center, kissing the pad of his thumb to her teeth. He could feel everything about her through this, the way her throat bobbed anxiously, the shuttering breath against his skin, the way her tongue sank forward instinctually to meet him. 

She couldn’t help it, the hypnotic lull that it pulled her into. Her eyes started to shutter closed, but in doing so she noticed something.

His nails.

Sukuna clocked this almost simultaneously, whipping his hand back before she completely lost her stupor and bringing the thumb to his own lips, nails hidden from sight. He made a show of licking the residuals of sweetness off of it, eyes boring straight into hers.

“Tastes even better this way,” he purred.

She flushed and turned away quickly and completely, her back to him, beyond embarrassed, “Y-Yuji—!”

“What?”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she squeaked.

“What do you mean?” he husked, leaning in from above her, pressing impossibly closer into her back, “What’s so embarrassing about loving the way you taste?”

Sukuna could feel her cheeks heat up as he slotted his nose into her shoulder, “In fact…”

He pressed his mouth, motionless, into the nape of her neck. He breathed into it, doing everything in his power to get a whisper of a taste of that skin, without devouring her whole.

“I’d love to taste more.”

He ran his hands down her arms, nails catching on every goosebump. They were going slow, teasing, but they weren’t stopping. No, they were not stopping their descent. Not until they got to—

“Y-Yuji,” she gasped out an embarrassed laugh as his hands slipped down to cover her own over the cup, sticky and cold from the fluffy ice dripping forgotten over them, “Come on, there are people around…”

“And?” Sukuna’s fingers weaved with her own squeezing tight, his hips slanting flush against her ass, “If there weren’t people around?”

She tilted her head back, startled by how close his lips were to hers when she did so. Startled, but not scared off. No. Intoxicated. Caught in the center of the spider’s web.

Trapped. Right where he wanted her.

Sukuna’s smirk widened and he caught her lips, all pretense gone. He was going in for the kill.

There was a reason why she was easy prey, and it wasn’t just because she was meek and malleable, easy for Sukuna to overwhelm even without powers.

It was because she wanted this from Yuji, had wanted it for a while, actually. If he didn’t know from all the needing looks and batting lashes she’d sent his way over the last six months — a virgin whore if he’d ever seen one —  it was more than obvious now. The way she grinded against him, gasped excitedly as he shoved her against a tree, back arching as he turned the top of her yukata into a belt, exposing her bare chest to his rough, relentless palms.

He was brought back to the other fucks he’d had under this very tree, when he’d been able to dig his claws into the flesh of shrine maidens until he felt bone. Or that village girl whose spine he’d snapped in half as he came.

This wasn’t nearly as physically exhilarating as those times, but there was something oddly even more exciting about it on a sentimental level. Of course, it was his first fuck in over a millennia, and a virgin at that (his fucking favorite), but she was Yuji’s too. 

Yuji’s girlfriend, Yuji’s love, Yuji’s prize to be won — and he’d stolen her right under the brat’s nose. The only thing that would make it better would be if Yuji could actually see it right now.

He could let that go for now though, especially considering how pliant and eager she was, the way she held back her yelps and locked down any complaints as they slipped down to the cold, crackly ground, her bare back grinding hard into the bark. He knew that it hurt her, he could smell the blood and feel the way her breath hitched in his mouth, and yet miraculously, she didn’t say a word. She wanted this to happen, she wanted to make him happy. And she was too shy to voice anything that might result in otherwise.

“You ready?” he purred, already shoving his pants down to his knees and giving himself a few preparatory pumps, regardless of her answer.

She gulped, and nodded hurriedly.

As soon as he moved her panties to the side and rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance exploratorily, Sukuna knew she was lying. Her body was clearly not quite there. She was plenty wet, sure, but she was still tense from the nerves, and shallow from the lack of prep. 

That was fine though. Actually, it was great. That added ring of resistance? That’s what made virgins and victims the absolute perfect prey, that’s what made them intoxicating.

He couldn’t have held back if he wanted to.

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips forward, fucking her fully.

She cried out with a volume that was clearly not all from joy. She was hurt. And he almost came on the spot at the sound.

“Are you okay?” he asked, just to keep in character. He didn’t care either way.

“Mm—! Mm-hmm!” she nodded frantically, tears clear in her eyes and hesitant to open her mouth, lest she reveal the actual pain she was in.

Oh, a little tough girl, huh? He could fucking fall in love.

Sukuna kept a serious face, but inside he was splitting in two, smiling.

“You sure? Do you want me to stop?” he insisted. It’s not like he would, even if she wanted to. But the idea of her powering through the pain, begging him to keep going even as he broke her? It was just too good to pass up.

“Y-Yes,” she yelped out in such a sweet, strained voice, “P-Please, keep going Yuji!”

He reached forward, running a hand through her hair, that once perfect little updo now frazzled and ruined with leaves and dirt, “I’ll be gentle, okay?”

She sniffled and put on a brave, quivering smile, nodding. He dragged out of her to the tip, slowly, expertly, pulling from her the first little gasp of pleasure.

Then he bottomed out inside her.

She cried out loudly, nails clinging into his back with vicelock strength as he fucked her, truly fucked her. She tried to make those cries sound pleasured, like moans. But she couldn’t hide the screams they truly were. She pulled him closer so that she could try and muffle them into his shoulder. 

But that wouldn’t do. No, that would not fucking do.

The hand in her hair tightened, pulling her head back harshly so that she had nowhere to direct her noise but into the night sky as he pounded into her. She bit her lip, trying to keep them at bay.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” he groaned, genuinely, “What about you, baby? Do you feel good?”

She tried to just get away with nodding and whining.

“Tell me baby,” he pressed, “Tell me it feels good.”

“I-It… It feels good!” she finally cried out, desperate for him to stop, “Y-Yuji, it feels so good!”

He pressed his lips into her cheek, almost cumming on the spot as the streams of tears down her skin touched his tongue.

“I love you so much,” he growled shamelessly.

She smiled a face-splitting smile, eyes wide and puffy, and body completely open and raw, as she tried to love away the pain.

“M-Me too!” she almost gagged, “I love you too!!”

In this life, the previous, or even the next, Sukuna was sure he’d never cum as hard as he did when he saw that face. 

Yuji stared down at her in absolute horror. What had he done? No, what had he done?!

His girlfriend, that pure, perfect girl, the one true light of his life, was laid out beneath him, a complete mess. Covered in dirt, hickeys, and a sheen of her own sweat and tears. 

Raped.

Her bare chest rose and fell heavily (he could be thankful for that at least), and her cheek rested against the twisting roots of the tree they were under as she tried to catch her breath.

No.

No, no, no, no, no—

Her eyes blinked open as she felt a splash against her flesh, pulling her from her post-sex daze. She turned to look up at Yuji, instantly shocked to see him hunched over her and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Yuji?” she gasped, “Yuji what’s wrong?”

“I… I-I just—” he choked, trying desperately not to throw up. His fingers ran shakily across the divots in her skin, the scratches and bitemarks, “Are you o-okay?”

She followed his stroking hands to her marred shoulders and whipped back to him with a gasp.

“Ohhh, sweetie no— don’t worry about those! I’m fine!”

“A-Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Of course!” she pulled him down into a tight embrace, “I loved it, Yuji.”

Those words stabbed him harder and hotter than anything else she could’ve said. Made it all so much worse.

“I absolutely loved it.”

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[iheartbrink]

it will rain — chap. 1

 ⠀ ── ⠀ pair: pastors daughter!stewie x oc

 ⠀ ── ⠀ warnings: extremely heavy religious talk, religious guilt, talks of conversion camp, all the things, this is wordy and too long.

 ⠀ ── ⠀ a/n: my brain is fried from writing this.. not proofread whatsoever.

Breanna knew what she was doing was wrong. Every fiber of her being screamed it. She knew that by crossing this line, she was damning herself. Damning herself not just in the eyes of her parents, her church, or her peers, but in the eyes of God. The teachings she’d grown up with were clear: girls like her were not meant to love girls like Madison. They were meant to confess these urges and purge themselves of these sinful desires. Yet, here she was, on the precipice of something that could never be undone.

She knew, with bone-deep certainty, that if her mother—let alone her father—ever found out about what she was doing, she would be sent away. There would be no forgiveness, no understanding, only punishment. Maybe she’d be shipped off to one of those camps. Or perhaps they’d try to “pray the gay away” during one of the church’s all-night revival sessions. Either way, Breanna wouldn’t be allowed to stay.

She would be sent away.

Sent away from the one person who had ever truly seen her. Sent away from the only person who made her feel as though she wasn’t walking through life with a mask on, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Sent away from her first love, her real love. The one she’d never expected, and yet couldn’t deny.

But what if she wasn’t sent away? What if her secret remained? Could she live with it, knowing it defied everything she had been taught? What would it mean for her, and Madison, if they managed to keep this under wraps? Would the love they shared be worth the risk of eternal damnation?

 ⠀ ── ⠀

Rosewood, California, wasn’t exactly a place for people like Breanna. Not for a queer girl growing up under the suffocating expectations of the church. Certainly not for the daughter of Pastor Stewart, who led Rosewood Catholic Church with an iron grip on morality. In this small town, Breanna was not just Breanna Stewart. She was the Breanna Stewart—church princess, moral compass for others, and the girl who seemingly had it all figured out.

But no one knew about the unrest raging beneath her exterior. Not her father, her mother, or even Lucas—the boy she was supposed to be in love with.

Lucas was a nice enough guy, she supposed, but Breanna couldn’t help the gnawing emptiness she felt whenever he kissed her. There was no spark, no fire, only an odd sense of obligation. She tried to convince herself that this was just how things were meant to be. That she should feel lucky to have a good guy like Lucas, but deep down she knew it was a lie.

Because whenever she looked at her best friend, Madison, her heart surged in a way it never did for Lucas. The way Madison laughed, the way her hair fell in waves over her shoulders, the way she smiled at Breanna like she was the most important person in the world—those things ignited something within her she could not deny.

Breanna had convinced herself for so long that she wasn’t gay. She wasn’t. She couldn’t be. After all, being gay was a sin, and Breanna Stewart didn’t sin. At least, she wasn’t supposed to. But the feelings she had for Madison were impossible to ignore. She could push them down, try to hide them away, but they always resurfaced, stronger each time.

And tonight, they were about to come to a head.

 ⠀ ── ⠀

Breanna knew that coming to this party was a terrible idea. She knew the moment she stepped through the door that she should’ve turned around and gone home.

She had told herself she would stay for an hour, just long enough to show her face and then leave before anything went too far. But somehow, she found herself drawn into a circle of friends playing Seven Minutes in Heaven, a game she had heard about but never dared to play. Not with Madison sitting right next to her, her best friend, her not-so-secret crush.

Now, she was about to enter that dark, claustrophobic closet with Madison. Seven minutes. Alone. With the one person, she had forbidden herself from ever thinking about this way. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stood up to go inside, the air in the room feeling thick and oppressive.

“This is a bad idea,” Breanna thought, over and over again. But her feet kept moving, carrying her forward. She told herself it was just a game, just an innocent little game. She could kiss Madison, prove to herself that it wasn’t all that. Prove to herself that this was nothing more than a phase.

“Kiss her once, show yourself how horrible it is. Then you’ll never crave it again,” Breanna whispered under her breath as they stepped inside the cramped space together.

But the moment Madison’s arm brushed against hers, doubt crept in. The warmth of her skin sent a shiver down Breanna’s spine. The familiar scent of Madison’s perfume filled the small closet, making it hard to breathe.

What if this wasn’t as bad of an idea as she had convinced herself? What if kissing Madison wasn’t a mistake, but rather, the thing she had been denying herself for so long? What if, instead of pushing her further away, this kiss brought them closer together?

She swallowed hard, torn between the pull of desire and the fear of losing everything she had built with Madison.

“Just a quick kiss,” Breanna murmured, the words barely a whisper, her voice unrecognizable to her own ears. Madison’s eyes widened in surprise, searching Breanna’s face for any sign of uncertainty.

“Are you sure?” Madison asked, her voice soft but filled with concern, her breath warm against Breanna’s cheek.

Breanna nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yeah. Just this once.”

Madison hesitated for a moment, and then leaned in. Their lips met softly at first, a gentle touch that sent a shockwave through Breanna’s entire body. Her breath hitched, and for a second, she thought about pulling away. But something deeper took over, and before she knew it, the kiss deepened.

Time seemed to stop. There was no party, no game, no world outside of this kiss. There was only Madison. And as their lips moved together, slow and tentative at first, then more confident, Breanna felt something ignite within her that she hadn’t known was there.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Breanna knew in that instant that this wasn’t just a moment of weakness. This wasn’t a mistake to be buried and forgotten. This was the beginning of something far bigger, something she could no longer ignore.

It wasn’t a sin. It was love. And love, no matter what they said, couldn’t be wrong. Could it?

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

Forbidden Ties | Rafe Cameron

summary: sanaa knew it was forbidden, but he’s worth the risk, and he was willing to give up everything if it meant sanaa would fall into him the way she was meant to

warnings: angst, fluff

word count: 3,783

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Sanaa stood at the edge of the balcony, her eyes tracing the skyline of the city below. The evening sky, bruised purple and fading to a deep blue, cast long shadows across the terrace. She felt the cool air kiss her bare skin, the silk of her gown flowing gently behind her. Despite the opulence of the event—the glittering chandeliers, the clink of fine crystal glasses, the sound of laughter and conversation in every direction—she felt a distinct unease in her chest.

She wasn’t used to being the center of attention in a room full of strangers, even if they were all high society. It was hard to remember a time before her family’s wealth had drawn eyes like moths to a flame. And tonight, the spotlight felt even heavier because of one person.

Rafe Cameron.

He had appeared at the event an hour ago, looking every bit the successful business tycoon he was—tailored suit, expensive watch glinting in the light, sharp jawline and those eyes, the color of whiskey and always so focused, so intense. She hated that she noticed him so much. But there was nothing she could do. Her father had drilled it into her that Rafe was strictly off-limits. Business, he always said, should never mix with pleasure. And that’s exactly what Rafe was—dangerous, enticing pleasure.

Sanaa’s pulse quickened just at the thought of him. She didn’t even know why—he wasn’t like the other men she’d met. Most were more interested in what her family could offer than in who she was as a person. But Rafe was different. He saw her as an equal, someone who could challenge him. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what terrified her the most.

A soft laugh broke through her thoughts, and she turned to find her older sister, Leila, approaching. Leila was already a few steps ahead in her world of social connections, her polished grace and effortless charm making her the star of every gathering. She shot Sanaa a knowing smile as she sipped her champagne.

“Don’t tell me you’re out here feeling sorry for yourself,” Leila teased, her tone light but sharp. “I saw Rafe walking through the room. You know Dad will have a fit if you keep avoiding him.”

Sanaa’s heart stuttered, but she refused to let her nerves show. “I’m not avoiding anyone,” she replied coolly. “Just needed a breath of fresh air.”

Leila’s gaze softened, though there was still an amused glint in her eyes. “Sure you are. Just don’t make things awkward. If Dad finds out you’ve been running from Rafe all night, he’ll have a fit.”

“I haven’t been—” Sanaa started, but her words died on her tongue when she spotted him.

Rafe.

He was standing at the opposite end of the balcony, his attention fixed on something below, his hand resting casually against the stone railing. The sight of him stirred something in her that she wished she could ignore.

“Go talk to him,” Leila encouraged, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “You know you want to.”

Before Sanaa could respond, Leila was already disappearing back into the crowd, leaving her to face the one person she couldn’t seem to avoid. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she walked toward him, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor.

Rafe didn’t look up when she approached, and for a moment, she wondered if he hadn’t noticed her at all. But then, just as she was about to speak, he turned his head, his gaze locking with hers.

“Sanaa,” he said her name like it was a secret he’d been holding onto for far too long. His voice was low and smooth, and she could feel the weight of his attention like a tangible thing.

“Rafe,” she replied, her tone a little colder than she intended. She couldn’t help it. This whole situation—her father’s expectations, the pressure of their families' partnership—made her wary. She had been told time and time again that nothing could ever happen between them.

He smiled then, a slow, knowing smile that made her stomach flip. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers. “Isn’t it?”

“It is,” she agreed, her voice tight. She tried to keep her composure, to maintain the boundary that had been set for her. “Though I suppose you’d know that already, since you seem to spend your time in the limelight.”

Rafe’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. He stepped a little closer, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of his cologne, something deep and earthy. “I suppose I do,” he replied softly. “But it’s easier to appreciate the night when you’re not constantly under its spotlight.”

There was a pause between them, a tension that stretched for too long, until Sanaa felt her breath catch. She wanted to say something—anything—but all she could do was stare at him. The air around them seemed to crackle, charged with something unsaid, something dangerous.

“So, what brings you out here?” Rafe asked, leaning slightly toward her, his voice quiet but intent.

“I needed some space,” she answered honestly, though the real reason was far more complicated. “The crowd is a bit... much.”

He nodded, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her feel exposed. “I get that,” he said after a beat. “I tend to prefer moments of quiet.”

It was strange, how easily the conversation seemed to flow with him. Like they had known each other for far longer than just a few brief encounters. Like the rules of their families, the expectations, the things that should have kept them apart didn’t matter. For a brief, dangerous moment, she almost convinced herself that they didn’t.

But then the sound of footsteps interrupted them, and Sanaa glanced over her shoulder to find her father, Malik, approaching. He wore a stern expression, his sharp eyes quickly assessing the situation. When his gaze landed on Rafe, his face softened, but only slightly.

“Rafe,” Malik greeted, offering his hand for a handshake. “I was looking for you.”

“Malik,” Rafe replied with a firm but polite handshake. “Everything going smoothly?”

Sanaa could see the slight tension in her father’s posture, the way he glanced between her and Rafe, then back again. He was the sort of man who never let anything slip, always maintaining a calm facade, but she knew him well enough to recognize the signs of discomfort.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” Malik said, though his eyes lingered on Sanaa for a moment too long. “I’m sure Sanaa has been keeping you company.”

Sanaa quickly lowered her gaze, trying to read the subtle cues in her father’s expression. He wasn’t angry—not yet—but she could feel the pressure building. He wasn’t the type to interfere directly, but he didn’t need to. His disapproval was felt in every word, every glance.

“I’ve been keeping her company,” Rafe said smoothly, his voice betraying nothing. “We were just talking about the event. It’s quite a crowd.”

“Indeed,” Malik said curtly. “Well, I’m sure you two have much to discuss. I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to walk away, but not before pausing and adding, “Rafe, my office, tomorrow morning. We need to talk numbers.”

“Of course,” Rafe replied, nodding once.

As Malik walked off, Sanaa felt a familiar weight settle over her chest. She turned back to Rafe, her voice quieter now. “I should go inside.”

“You don’t have to,” Rafe said, his tone soft but compelling.

She felt the pull again, like gravity, and for a moment, she almost forgot where they were, who they were to each other. But the reality of the situation settled back in. She couldn’t let herself get too close. Not when it could ruin everything.

“I’ll see you later,” she said briskly, her voice colder than she intended. “Goodnight, Rafe.”

His gaze lingered on her as she turned to walk back inside, but she didn’t look back. The night was still young, and she knew that no matter how hard she tried to avoid him, their paths would cross again.

____________

The days following the event felt like a slow burn. Every time Sanaa crossed paths with Rafe—whether at one of her father’s business gatherings, or simply running into him at a dinner party—the tension was palpable. They both felt it. She knew it. He knew it. But neither of them spoke it aloud.

It was safer that way.

But in the quiet spaces of her life—when she was alone, when she could think without the pressure of family expectations—it was impossible to deny the truth. She was drawn to him. And not just in some superficial way. There was something about Rafe that made her want to understand him, to break through the walls he had so carefully constructed around himself. And the fact that it was forbidden only made it all the more dangerous.

The encounter on the balcony had stayed with her longer than she’d cared to admit, the sensation of his gaze lingering on her like a brand. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the way he had looked at her—appreciative, calculating, but also something softer, something she couldn’t quite grasp.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind. Business and pleasure don’t mix.

It was as if her father’s warning was now a constant hum, a reminder that what was between her and Rafe couldn’t happen. She had to believe that, no matter how irresistible the pull toward him became.

But Sanaa was used to control. Her entire life had been about balancing expectations: her father’s vision for their family’s legacy, her mother’s expectations of refinement and grace, and her own desires, which often felt small, hidden beneath the weight of all the responsibilities placed on her.

And then there was Rafe—strong, silent, unpredictable Rafe. Everything about him felt like an unspoken challenge, a question she couldn’t answer yet. The more she tried to forget him, the more he lingered, like the faintest trace of cologne on the collar of a jacket that was never really out of reach.

It happened one evening, a few weeks after the gala, when Sanaa found herself once again in the same orbit as Rafe. Her father had invited him to dinner at their house, a gathering that was supposed to be about business, but always had an undercurrent of something more personal.

She had known Rafe would be there. They were both too entrenched in the same circles, too tethered by their families’ business partnership, to avoid such gatherings. But what she hadn’t prepared for was the way her heart raced when she saw him step into the living room, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his presence like a magnetic force. The moment he looked at her, his expression unreadable, the world around her seemed to pause.

"Rafe," her father greeted, standing to shake his hand. "Good to see you. I trust everything’s going well?"

"As well as ever," Rafe answered smoothly, though his eyes briefly flicked toward Sanaa before he turned to Malik.

There it was again. That moment. That quiet recognition. She couldn’t let herself dwell on it, not with her father right there.

The dinner was a blur of fine wine, small talk, and the constant hum of corporate jargon. But Sanaa couldn’t keep her focus. Her attention kept straying to the man sitting across the table from her, his dark eyes catching hers with unsettling frequency. She told herself it was all in her head, that there was nothing to the looks he was giving her. After all, Rafe was a businessman. He wasn’t interested in her beyond the occasional polite conversation. Or so she had to keep telling herself.

But when the evening wore on and the others retired to the drawing room, Sanaa found herself once again alone with him. She was halfway through a glass of wine when she felt him at her side, silent and steady as always. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her, as though he were deciding whether or not to speak. Her pulse quickened, but she kept her face neutral.

“You’re not much for small talk, are you?” she asked, her voice a little too sharp.

Rafe chuckled softly, the sound low and almost intimate. “I’m more of a listener.”

She turned her head slightly, catching his gaze, and for a brief moment, the distance between them felt like nothing. As though the years of rules and expectations didn’t exist.

“I didn’t realize you were so interested in me,” she said, her words a little too playful, trying to mask the nerves she couldn’t control.

“I’m not,” he replied, his voice smooth but with a hint of something darker beneath. "But you intrigue me."

Her breath caught. Intrigued? By her? The idea shouldn’t have been so flattering, but the way he said it—so carefully, so deliberately—stirred something inside her, something she hadn’t been willing to acknowledge until now.

"I think I’m intrigued by you, too," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She hadn’t meant to make it personal, hadn’t meant to admit anything, but there it was.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, though he didn’t invade her personal space just yet. His presence, however, was unmistakable. The air between them seemed charged, thick with the weight of unspoken words.

“You should be careful about what you say, Sanaa,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, though she could feel the intensity behind it. “The more you admit to yourself, the harder it gets to walk away.”

She swallowed hard, looking down at her glass, trying to steady herself. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rafe gave a soft, humorless laugh. “Don’t play coy. You and I both know what this is.”

She bristled at his words, but the truth was, he wasn’t wrong. There was an undeniable connection between them—one that neither of them had been able to ignore, despite the rules and the boundaries. She had tried. She really had. But with each passing day, the pull between them grew stronger.

But they were not free agents. They weren’t just two people making their own choices. Her father’s expectations were always there, an ever-present shadow looming over every decision.

Sanaa’s voice was steady when she spoke again, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen, Rafe. You know that. My father would never approve.”

“And neither would mine but I’m a grown ass man, and you’re a grown ass woman,” he replied quietly, his gaze searching hers. “And there’s more to it than just their approval, isn’t there? There’s a part of you that wants this too.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. For a moment, she thought she might say something, might argue, might try to push back against the truth he had just laid bare. But the part of her that wanted him—wanted to explore what was between them—was too strong, too overwhelming.

“Maybe,” she whispered, before she could stop herself.

The tension between them thickened, and Rafe took a step closer, his body nearly touching hers. She could feel the heat of him, his presence overwhelming everything else in the room. And for a moment, she thought he might kiss her—just lean in, take her lips as if the rest of the world didn’t matter.

But then he pulled back, just slightly, his hand hovering near her shoulder but never quite touching. The moment was suspended, fragile, as if anything more would break it.

“We shouldn’t,” he said, his voice low and almost regretful. Sanaa nodded, her chest tightening. “No. We really shouldn’t.”

And yet, as he turned to leave the room, the tension remained, unspoken but undeniable.

Sanaa stood there, her breath shallow, her pulse racing long after Rafe had walked away. The room felt smaller, the weight of her own emotions pressing in on her chest, suffocating. She hadn’t meant to say it—hadn’t meant to let her vulnerability show. But now, with those words hanging between them, the lines she had so carefully drawn in her life seemed to blur, just like the faces in the crowded room that felt miles away.

Maybe she had been lying to herself all this time. Maybe she had wanted this all along.

She took a slow sip from her wine glass, the coolness of it doing nothing to settle the fire in her veins. The truth of it settled deep within her, and she couldn’t escape it. Rafe did intrigue her. And it was more than just curiosity. It was a magnetic force pulling her toward him, and as much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t.

The door to the drawing room creaked open behind her, and she stiffened, expecting to see her father or one of the guests. But when she turned, her gaze met Rafe’s again. He was standing in the doorway, his posture casual but the intensity in his eyes unmistakable.

“I thought you’d left,” Sanaa said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

“I should have,” Rafe replied, stepping into the room with quiet, measured strides. His presence filled the space, as it always did. “But something told me you weren’t quite finished with the conversation.”

Sanaa’s heart skipped a beat. She wanted to argue, wanted to snap at him to leave, to stop playing these dangerous games, but something about the way he looked at her made the words die on her tongue. It was as if they were the only two people in the room, the rest of the world fading away.

“You’re still here,” she said instead, her voice quieter than she intended. “Why?”

Rafe’s lips curved into a smile, the hint of something darker flickering beneath it. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m starting to believe that you’re not as immune to this as you pretend to be.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The audacity of his words sent a rush of heat to her cheeks. But it wasn’t anger she felt—it was something else. Something dangerous.

She wanted to argue, to tell him how wrong he was, how impossible it all was, but the words stuck in her throat, her own doubts weighing her down.

Instead, she found herself asking, “And what about you? Why do you keep coming back?”

His gaze softened, though there was still an edge to it. “I can’t get you out of my head, Sanaa. And I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Her heart raced, and her stomach flipped. She took a step back, shaking her head as if that might somehow clear the fog of emotions that clouded her thoughts. “This… we can’t. It’s not just our families—there’s more at stake. I can’t afford to let this happen, Rafe. Not when I’ve been told my entire life that I have to be in control.”

“You’ve been told a lot of things, haven’t you?” he said quietly, his voice taking on a harder edge. “And what have you been telling yourself?”

Sanaa froze, caught in the weight of his words. There was something almost accusatory in them, as though he was challenging her to admit what she had been avoiding all along. That part of her that did want this, that did want him, regardless of the consequences.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stared at him, her gaze flickering to the door behind him, where she knew her father’s study lay—just beyond the threshold, where decisions were made, where futures were shaped. The life she was meant to live, the path she was supposed to follow, was just on the other side. But with every second that passed, it felt more and more like a cage.

“I have responsibilities,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she were trying to convince herself. “I can’t just throw them away. I can’t risk everything for… this.”

Rafe studied her in silence, and for a moment, Sanaa thought he might walk away, might let the tension dissipate like it had so many times before. But instead, he took a single step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, his voice steady but intense, “you have to risk everything. Otherwise, you’re just playing it safe, never really living.”

The words lingered in the air between them, heavy and daring, like an invitation to cross a line she had sworn never to cross. Sanaa’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of the choice she had to make.

“Is that what you want, Rafe?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “You want me to throw everything away?”

His gaze softened, and he stepped even closer, his presence enveloping her. “I don’t want you to throw anything away. But if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll know that you want more. You don’t want to be stuck in a life that’s already been mapped out for you. And neither do I.”

Sanaa felt her breath catch again, her hands trembling slightly as she held her glass, as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. She knew he was right. She knew the truth was there, buried beneath all the expectations and obligations. She wanted something more. But could she really have it?

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Rafe,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow now. “One I’m not sure I can afford to play.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Maybe. But sometimes, Sanaa… danger is the only thing worth playing for.”

Before she could respond, he stepped away, leaving her in the silence of the room. The door clicked softly behind him as he exited, leaving her standing in the same spot, caught between desire and duty, between a life she had been taught to live and one that might be hers if she had the courage to reach for it.

Sanaa’s mind raced, her heart torn. She knew she couldn’t let herself get swept up in this—she had too much to lose. But a part of her, the part that had been buried for so long, wondered if maybe it was time to risk it all.

She swallowed hard, the taste of uncertainty thick on her tongue.

Maybe the question wasn’t what she had to lose.

Maybe the real question was: What would she be willing to give up to have it all?

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