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incrediblyaccuratethoughts · 3 days ago

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Added another chapter, here we goooo ~~

Tim stepped out of the Batcave to grab himself a coffee. He was gone for 10 minutes.

So tell him why as soon as he closes the entrance, he's accosted with the sound of Jason and Damian bickering over the bat computer. The computer he’d been using for the past 5 hours to try and solve an ongoing trafficking ring.

“I told you my fucking number and I’m no liar,” Jason grumbles.

“Shut it Todd, I’m concentrating.”

Why does this always happen to Tim? What god did he piss off enough to regularly put him in the room when his brothers are arguing? What did he do to deserve such slander??

“You wouldn't have to concentrate if you just believed me-” Jason snaps, as Tim starts to make his way down the staircase, quietly stepping between shadows to avoid being seen.

“I refuse to believe that you’ve killed that many people since you were revived.”

“I’mma crime lord, brat. I’ve killed a lot of fucking people. Not to mention the Pit Rage.”

When Tim gets his first peak of the Bat Computer, he doesn't know why he bothered to be sneaky. At a first glance, Jason looks casually relaxed, his feet up on the desk, but his shoulders are tight and his attention is focused on whatever the hell Damian is doing.

Did Tim mention that he didn’t like where this is going? He would like it on record that he doesn't like this one bit.

“Pit Rage or not, that’s a preposterous number.”

“And that’s a good enough reason to hack into the Watchtower for all the information they have on the League of Assassins?”

Oh shit. Oh fuck .

“Father has encrypted folders stored in their databases holding detailed information pertaining to the League of Assassins." Damian sniffs, "If the information we seek is anywhere, it’ll be there.”

Nope, Tim is definitely not a fan of this development. He’d been meaning to see if he could get to that particular file and erase all mentions of Ra’s obsession with him. Tim just hadn’t gotten around to it.

“And you’re what? Going to hack past Oracle?”

“No,” Damian scoffs, “I know the password.”

Tim scrambles for his phone. It’s not his favorite device to hack from but dammit, needs must.

"How the hell did you manage that?"

"As if I'd tell you."

“Sneaky little shit.” Jason sounds begrudgingly impressed.

For a few moments, the cave is filled with the sound of aggressive typing, before Damian makes a small, pleased noise.

“I’m in.”

From this angle he can’t see what Damian typed, but Tim has been breaking into shit he shouldn’t for longer than he should have been able to. He’s just gotta get in before they can download something they shouldn’t.

“Great, where’s the LOA files? Do they even have the LOA files?”

“Of course they do, the watchtower is updated on every major server-”

Tim frantically pulls up backdoors and firewall scanners, hoping he can slip his way inside despite not being connected to a direct network.

“What’s that?”

“We have a task, Todd. Try to stay focused.”

“No, go back. I’ve never seen that before.”

Damian scoffs, but returns to a file labeled, 'The Detective - Project Failed’

See, this is why Tim can’t have nice things. Every time he lets his guard down for even a second, a meddling brother fucks it up for him. Truly a tragic life he leads.

“It’s nothing important. Clearly it wasn’t successful-”

“Open it.”

“This is not a leisurely perusement of information, Todd. We have a task to fulfill.”

“The file was created two years ago. That’s too recent to have been Bruce.”

Damian pauses, cursor hovering over the file. Tim hopes with everything he has that the kid will ignore Jason’s request.

But of course, because the universe hates him, Damian clicks it.

The Detective

Age: 17

Height: 5’6”

Weight: 131 lbs

"I fucking told you it wasn't Batman. That's Robin levels of scrawny."

"I applaud your clearly superior intellect, Todd." Damian drawls.

"Who the hell taught you sarcasm?"

“I didn’t need to be taught, unlike some.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don't see how this is relevant.”

ABILITIES:

Trained by Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, Lady Shiva

Martial arts disciplines including but not limited to:

Kung Fu, Aikido, Jeet Kune Do, Escrima, Krav Maga, Tae Kwon Do, Judo, Wing Chun, Hapkido, Karate, Savate, Kendo, Ninjitsu, Tai Chi, Leopard Kung Fu and Biangan.

Prefered Weapon

Bow staff

Highly skilled combatant

Master Detective, Tactician, and Strategist

Gifted Intellect

Excels in computer science and inventions

Firm grasp of assorted scientific techniques including biology, engineering genetics, forensic, criminology, acrobatics, stealth, disguise, and escapology.

"So I know I made a joke about this being a Robin, but…" Jason trails off.

"These descriptions are too specific." Damien agrees.

AFFILIATIONS:

Batman and his associates

Leader of Young Justice

Leader of Teen Titans

Justice League associates

League of Assassins associates

"Which fucking Robin worked with Ra's of all people?"

"I am the heir of-"

"Tell me when exactly you lead Young Justice."

“Tch.” Damain scoffs.

PERSONAL CONNECTIONS:

Janet Drake (Mother): Dead

Jack Drake (Father): Dead

Eddie Drake (Uncle): Fake Identity

"Oh fuck ." Jason breathes.

ALIAS:

Timothy (Tim) Jackson Drake-Wayne

Robin - Boy Wonder

Red Robin

The Detective

Alvin Draper

"What kind of alias is Alvin ? What the fuck?"

History:

Defeated King Snake (assisted)

Defeated Clusmaster (alone)

Escaped Bane and Killer Croc (alone)

Defeated Firefly (alone)

'Zero Hour'

Defeated KGBeast (alone)

Kidnapped by Zeus - (escaped alone)

First contact with LOA - apocalypse virus

Defeated Cluemasrer (alone)

Lead Young Justice

'No Man's Land'

Defeated Mr. Freeze and Ratcatcher (alone)

Defeated Darkseid (assisted)

'Titans Tomorrow'

Defended Bludhaven from OMAC's (assisted)

Defeated Secret Society of Super Villains (assisted)

Reassembled Teen Titans

Defeated Obeah Man (alone)

LOA affiliation - Objective: [REDACTED]

“No fucking way.” Jason breathes, and judging by Damain’s silence, he shares Jason’s sentiment.

Tim’s frantic typing is yielding no results. Fuck .

“I didn’t think the kid had it in him.”

“I was not aware that Drake was so… versatile in his skills.”

“That’s a fancy fucking way of saying he’s got a rap sheet longer than Santa’s naughty list.”

“He didn’t strike me as the type to work with Grandfather.”

“Yeah, no shit. When did that even happen?”

“By the dates, it would have been during Father’s disappearance into the time stream.”

“ Oh my fucking god .”

Classification: Potential Heir

Mission Success Rate: 98%

Active Member: N/A

Time of Service: 1y 2m 15d

Kill Count: 8,528

“That number can’t possibly be right.”

“Holy fuck, that’s a higher kill count than me .”

“I refuse to believe this. We need more evidence.” Damian states, scrolling down to the detailed notes.

“He blew up a League base?”

“Not just one. He blew up 7.”

“I don’t understand how he would have had the information-”

Tim’s phone vibrates as finally gains access to the Watchtower. It’s too late to have kept his brothers from seeing what they did, but that doesn’t mean he can’t bury his file.

“It says he that he was favored by Ra’s and… that bastard wanted him to be the next Demon’s Head? What the hell did Timmy do ?”

“I don’t understand.”

The data starts disappearing, and Tim clears his throat. His brothers turn around, staring wide-eyed at Tim’s blank face.

His heart is in his throat and his hands are shaking, but he forces a smirk.

“No one will ever believe you.”

Tim turns and sprints for the door.

Without the copies stored away in the watchtower database, his brothers will be hard-pressed to come up with proof about his crimes and really, he’s heard far too many comments about him being one of the more morally sound people in the family, so it’s not likely that his brothers will be taken seriously, but he's not sticking around long enough to get caught.

Tim’s escape lasts about five minutes.

It’s an epic five minutes, there’s a lot of sick flips and narrow misses involved, but by the end of it, the entire family is on the chase.

Which, Tim thinks wryly, is just fucking perfect as he wheezes under the weight of 200 pounds of sheer muscle.

“You have some fucking explaining to do, Timbo.” The jerk that’s currently crushing all of the air out of Tim’s lungs says, but all Tim can do is wheeze.

The weight lifts and oh . Fuck . Yeah, no wonder Tim was on the verge of breaking a rib, Jason was the one who tackled him.

Rude. Tim weighs like. A third of him. The man could at least pretend to use some constraint.

“Tell me why,” Jason starts in a dangerously low tone, “You have the highest kill count in this family.”

Tim tilts his head, the picture of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ Bull. Shit . Damian and I saw the fucking file. Deleting it doesn't change the facts.”

Tim's expression doesn't falter. He’s been rubbing elbows with high society since before he could walk. He’s well practiced in a poker face. “What file?”

Jason lunges for him.

A short scuffle later finds both Tim and Jason separated, Bruce with an arm across Jason’s chest and Dick bodily hauling Tim off the ground.

"What's going on?"

Ah shit, that's Bruce's Batman voice.

"Tim has a kill count higher than me." Jason immediately spits, the snitch.

"He worked with Grandfather."

"He blew up 7 league bases."

Every gaze in the room lands on Tim, and he sighs, admitting defeat and slumping in the hold Dick has him in. Damn the man and his octopus arms.

It was a good run. But the gig is up.

"I was in a… bad headspace." He shrugs ruefully, "Black Canary once told me that shared misery is halved misery.”

“Your ‘bad headspace’ lead to blowing up 7 League bases ?”

Tim shrugs. “In my defense, Ra’s is an asshole who has my spleen in a jar. I think he deserves it.”

The arms tighten around Tim, “He has what -”

”Your spleen ?”

“That does sound indicative of Grandfather’s behavior.”

“What the actual fuck, replacement.”

"You have some serious explaining to do." Bruce says, tone authoritative with no room for argument.

Tim sighs. He just wanted coffee.

An opinion. Jason was the only batkid who did not come with a pre-installed Kill option, that was downloaded, after death, while he was with the League. Dick, Tim and Damian, tho, they came with it, and Bruce had to learn to manually turn it off.

99% success rate with Dick and Damian.

76% success rate with Tim who has not killed anybody, but has contemplated it way too many times for Bruce to be comfortable with.

Edit: for all the people who keep saying "But Tim blew up the League bases with so many people," listen, if Bruce doesn't know, it didn't happen. Don't go snitching on my boy like that.

#tim being a mass murder is my favorite troupe #tim drake is a menace #batman #dc #jason todd #red hood #bruce wayne #damian wayne #robin #tim drake #red robin #batfam #batfamily #batkids #batbrothers #batbros #batdad #headcanon

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try-set-me-on-fire · 3 days ago

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Eddie drunkenly calls Buck from wine night, confesses some things. On ao3 here.

Eddie calls him at 11:34 pm, and it’s a Thursday, so that means a few things. It’s wine night, the biggest thing. It’s wine night, at Hen and Karen’s, and he knows those start around dinner time so Eddie’s got several hours of alcohol in him. It’s 11:34 pm and Buck got off work at 10:45, another thing, so it’s a toss up whether Eddie timed the call to when he was walking through the door (a feat possible after years of going back and forth between the station, the loft, and the Diaz house at all times of day and night) or if it’s just a drunken coincidence.

“Hello,” Buck answers the phone, dragging out the first half of the word, tossing his keys into the bowl on the counter.

“Buck,” Eddie says, voice bright and not very slurred, but he’s only said one word so far, and Buck sometimes secretly thinks he could probably say his name pretty steadily no matter the situation. Buck is pretty sure he could be all drunk or half dead and still be able to say Eddie just fine, anyway. “Hello. Are you home from, did you get home from work?”

Ah, so, somewhat drunk then. “Did indeed. You still at the Wilsons?”

“Did you, uh- was there fire?” Eddie sounds like he’s trying very hard to sound normal. Buck bites his lip against a snort.

“No fires. Just a half shift, remember. Pretty boring one, honestly.” I missed you probably isn’t fair to say, Buck covered the shift of his own volition, he could have been at wine night if he really wanted. But Donovan’s sister had a baby, what was he gonna do, not let the guy meet his niece? “Hope you had a better time.”

“Great time,” Eddie says, enthusiastic. “They had, uh, mini quiches.”

Buck grins at the empty room. “You’re a man who loves a mini quiche.”

A few seconds of whooshy silence where Buck assumes Eddie is nodding enthusiastically. “The- uh- they had the bacon kind. The kind, and with the- you know, there’s spinach? Can we go to Costco?”

“Sure,” Buck agrees, opening his admittedly pretty sparsely populated fridge. “Could use a grocery run.”

“And get the, get more quiches?”

Buck grabs a protein bar, smiling as fondly as he wants to with no one around to see him. “Yeah, Eds, we’ll get more quiches.”

“And you’ll take the spinach ones? And I get the good ones?”

Buck laughs. “The spinach ones are good. You can barely even taste the spinach, they’re just, like, warm and eggy.”

“Mmm,” Eddie says, doubtfully. “It’s not nice to lie, Buckley.”

“I’m not fucking lying,” Buck cackles. “Your spinach hatred is so unfair, what’d it ever do to you?”

“Taste bad,” Eddie says, adding a blegh sound for emphasis. “It’s like- like- it’s gross, I don’t believe you actually like it, actually. You just want to eat grown up food.”

Buck snorts. “Man, I hate to break it to you, we both turn 34 this year.”

“And I don’t feel like I have to prove that to anybody by eating nasty food,” Eddie says, nose definitely in the air. Buck shakes his head and takes a bite of the protein bar.

“Whatever, man. You just have to live with the fact that Chris is the one sneaking vegetables into your food.”

“You’re so mean. I’m not letting you have any of my actually good quiches.” Empty threat, they always end up sharing, both of them know it. “That’s not even what I called about. That’s not even-“ Eddie huffs so hard it sounds all crackly in Buck’s ear. “I called to tell you that I love you.”

Buck grins. Oh boy, affectionate drunk Eddie is here. He’d wondered just how much wine they’d got through and it seems like Eddie must be nearly a bottle in. “Aw, love you too, bud.”

“No,” Eddie says, and Buck can see the frown from here. “Buck. Listen. I’m in love with you.”

Oh. God. Oh god. “Uh-“ Buck says, stomach swooping all over the fucking place, “Uh- I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having while you’re-“

“Oh, fuck off, shut up. Shut up. It’s fine.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck,” Eddie says, in the annoyed voice he uses when Buck is trying to get him to eat yogurt with his fruit in the morning, or even a dastardly spinach quiche. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I knew you’d- why- stop it. Listen. I feel like this all the time. It’s stupid that I’ve never, like, I never just say this all the time. You’re, like-”

Eddie cuts himself off and Buck waits — sort of fearfully — for him to continue, but the silence keeps stretching on. Buck knows the other side effect of this level on the Eddie Diaz Drunkenness Scale is heightened distractibility, so he probably noticed a nice color or perhaps a bug. They spent a good twenty minutes hanging out with a grasshopper at Hen and Karen’s wedding towards the end of the night, because it was a lovely shade of green and a funny little guy. Oh god, Buck thinks again. I love this man. I love this man a ridiculous amount and we should absolutely wait to talk about it.

But: “You’re tall and you’re in my house,” Eddie says before Buck can do anything to stop him.

“I’m-” Buck glances around the loft. “Eds, I’m at my place.”

“What?” He sounds so indignant that Buck has to cover his mouth to hold a laugh in. “Why?”

“‘Cause I live here?”

“That’s stupid. You should live with me in my house.”

“Should I?” Buck asks, laugh escaping a little bit. “Also, wait, what does me being tall have to do with it?”

Eddie sighs, long and exasperated. “If you live with me you never have to go home and leave me because you’re already at my house. Your house. If you live with me you never have to go anywhere.”

“Never have to go anywhere?” Buck thinks he’s in shock, maybe, about all of this, but teasing Eddie is something that’s always easy to fall into. “I don’t have a job in this scenario?”

“Well you’d go to work. And other places. But you just come back to me all the time.”

“I’d like to come back to you all the time,” Buck says, choking a little on how simply it explains every ache in him. “Eddie-“

“And you’re tall because… it matters because you’re tall because…” Eddie’s voice is soft, his breathing is soft. Buck wonders where he is in Hen and Karen’s house. In a hallway, tucked away from everyone, the nice light from the stained glass lamp they have there warm on his face? On the back porch, out in the cool night air? Buck wants to tell him to come home, wants to make sure he’s warm. “I never had to look up at anybody before.”

“I’ve got like two inches on you,” Buck replies, but his voice is pretty quiet.

“It’s a big two inches,” Eddie says, just as soft. Then, also quiet but of an entirely different flavor, “That's- Sorry- that's what she said.”

“That's-” Buck snorts. “What-” and then giddy laughter bursts up out of him, baking soda and vinegar, foamy and ticklish. He cackles till he’s breathless, listening to Eddie’s responding chuckles over the line, and sinks down to the floor, back against the kitchen island. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I scored better on my certification exams than you.”

“That’s not even true!” Buck protests over Eddie’s continuing laughter. “Only in two categories!”

“Overall percentage was higher!” Eddie reminds him, as he does every time they have this argument.

“Well, I remember building construction and related hazards better than you and that’s written down on official paper somewhere.”

“Not fair,” Eddie says, as he always says. “You- you did- you built those. Unfair advantage.”

“I think you’re overselling the kind of experience I got in a few months working construction like a decade ago.”

“It wasn’t a decade when you took the tests,” Eddie points out. “Whatever. Nevermind. And I don’t want to sound like- you’re good at remembering things. You’re not stupid. I don’t want to sound like you are.”

Buck taps his boot against the sink counter in front of him. “I know. You’re not either.”

“I know,” Eddie says, soft again. “But your hands are big, and… you’ve got stubble sometimes, and…” he trails off into just breathing on the other end of the line for several long moments. “Buck,” Eddie whispers in sleepover voice. “Have you ever kissed a boy before?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, knowing Eddie knows this, but playing along anyway. “I have.”

“What's it like?”

Buck hums, closes his eyes. He thinks about the few guys he’d made out with but never followed home when he got to Los Angeles. Thinks about the room he’d crashed in with Connor in Peru, with it’s one mattress and both their clothes living in suitcases because they were too broke to buy any other furniture. He’s still got a t-shirt for a school he never went to, a few sizes too small. The way they hadn’t shared a room once they were in LA, the girls Connor started seeing. He thinks about John from the ranch who left town the next day. He thinks about high school, Len McGuinty under the bleachers in the summer before senior year, both of them giggling and half terrified and the way they’d pretended to barely know each other when school started back up. Hard jawlines and stubble and muscles and height. Having something, for however long you get to have it. Wanting something, very badly. He opens his eyes and it’s almost a surprise that he’s still in the loft. That he’s not at Eddie’s house. All the time in the world there wouldn’t be enough. “It’s good, Eddie. It feels good.”

“Buck,” Eddie breathes, shivery.

“I want to live in your home all the time, and never have to go anywhere,” Buck says, repeats. “I’ll kiss you, if you want.”

“Buck-”

“I’ll love you, if you want.” Eddie is still drunk, Buck tries to remind himself. But it might actually kill him not to say it out loud when Eddie had said he feels like this all the time. How could he not say he feels like this all the time, too? “I’ll love you back. I love you back. I’ll eat all the spinach quiches for you.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck doesn’t know what expression is on his face, doesn’t know what look is tied to this tone of voice. Is desperate to find out. Quiet down the line for a few moments. And then: “It’s late.”

Buck pulls his phone away from his ear for a second to check the time. Nearly midnight. “Yeah.” His hands feel clammy. It was too much. They should have waited to talk. Eddie wants out now, and that’s fine. Buck will —somehow, skin of his teeth — find a way to be fine with that.

But: “I want to go home,” Eddie says. “Buck. Come and take me home.”

“And then-”

“And then stay.”

“Okay,” Buck gets to his feet, tosses the half eaten bar in the trash. Eddie’s house has food. His home has things to eat.

“Okay,” Eddie says, confident now, everything decided, everything for sure. “I’ll see you soon.

“Minutes,” Buck says, grabbing his keys, half running to the door. “I’ll be there in minutes.”

“Minutes,” Eddie says back. And Buck can hear his smile.

#my writing #your lives are spared from buck mcd a little longer #man i started writing this before bi buck was a real thing!! thats crazy!! he’s bi for real now and has kissed a real dude!#slowly. slowly. one day. i will do all the prompts from that soft prompts list. i should probably post the ones I haven’t done again #let you guys send requests in #i think i might actually still have some in my inbox but again. from like a full calendar year ago #so I’ll give you another opportunity

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gffa · 3 days ago

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*walks back into BATFAMILY fic fandom eleven months later, holding a Starbucks cup* I'm right on time, I don't know what you mean. AND I have returned with the fruits of a fandom that continues to be incredible at providing the good stuff! Sometimes it's still hard for me to grasp just how much fic has exploded onto the scene in the 10+ years I was away from DC, that there was some incredible fic back when I was into the fandom, but coming back to actual mountains of it has continued to blow my mind every time and made me love these characters even more than I already did.

It's almost overwhelming, honestly, how much good fic there is to read, so let me scream at you guys and shove links at you because I'm having a great time here and I want to drag all of you into it with me, COME HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT RIDICULOUSLY DRESSED SUPERHERO COMICS WITH ME, it's all fun and games, I swear! (Okay, but at least you'll have a good time crying about the Bats, I can give you that much at least.)

BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST GREMLIN ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ sleepless, perfect duty by glassofwater, dick & bruce, 4.3k The choice to forgo sleep, to forgo Dick Grayson, has never been easier. Not when the other option is Robin. ✦ Parallels in Reverse by rosetteanon, dick & damian & bruce, time travel, 2.2k Damian travels to a dimension that's a little bit behind his own. There, he meets a younger Dick Grayson, and a happier Bruce Wayne. ✦ string theory by wingdingery, dick & bruce & damian, time travel, 8k When Bruce and Dick get transported to an unfamiliar Gotham, it only takes running into a different Batman and Robin for Bruce to realize two things: one, they’re in the future; and two—in the future, Dick Grayson is dead. ✦ Rooftop Meetings by orphan_account, dick & bruce & leslie & shrike & cast, 10.2k wip When Two-Face almost beats a newly minted Robin to death, Bruce decides that the life of a vigilante is too dangerous for a kid. This becomes the catalyst for a series of events that leads twelve-year-old Dick Grayson down a darker path. ✦ It Could Stay This Simple (Just Stay This Little) by coconuticecream (magspie), dick & bruce, 3k Maybe claiming legal guardianship over a child at 22, and so soon after becoming Batman, spread Bruce thinner than he'd realized. Maybe Bruce was less equipped to parent a third grader than he'd thought. Maybe Bruce should do more to invite Dick into his life. Maybe Bruce should hug Dick, or promise he'll do better by Dick, or tell Dick that he loves Dick more than he thought himself capable. (or: bruce and dick practice self care together.) ✦ No One Said Flying Was Easy by Wrtrmd2, dick & bruce & alfred, 51.1k Eight year old Richard Grayson has just watched his parents fall to their deaths. Hurting and alone, he struggles to adjust to the new life he's thrown into. Bruce Wayne takes him in, but seems to have no idea what he's doing. Can they help each other put the pieces of their broken lives back together?

✦ Zitka by PechoraFlow, dick & bruce, 2.7k After Dick's parents fall to their deaths, he is left clinging to the few things he has left: one of them being Zitka, his stuffed elephant. ✦ your heart is the only place that i call home by emavee, dick & bruce, talon!dick, 6.3k There shouldn’t be any Talons that are this small, this young, but there’s one standing right in front of him. And that shouldn’t be Bruce’s soulmark blooming on his too-pale skin, but it is—there’s nothing else it could be. Batman really should know better than to bring a Talon home with him, but here he is, wrapping up the boy in a set of meta-cuffs and tucking him into the backseat of the car. ✦ Hostage by EternalLife, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.9k Dick Grayson is 10 years old. Batman is nowhere to be seen, and Robin has a gun to his head. ✦ The Mother-Son Dance by cometoastop, bruce & dick, 1.8k Dick is upset he doesn’t have a mother to bring him to his school’s mother-son dance, so Bruce offers to bring him instead.

BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Permission To Pause by farawayfiction (JJ_Thomas), dick & bruce, 1.9k Bruce pulled the phone from his pocket. A text from Dick was waiting for him on the notification screen. ✦ oathbreaker by one_step_closer_to_death, dick & bruce & cast, 2.3k Stranded and on his last leg, Batman might be fighting his last battle yet. But Bruce promised he was coming back home and this was one promise he wasn't going to break yet. ✦ Judge and Juror by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & alfred, 6.6k Anonymous asked: I was just wondering if you would like to write a story set during bvs and how Nightwing could be involved there? ✦ When You Don't Have an Umbrella by TheSilencer, dick & bruce, read the tags, 1.2k Dick Grayson and Batman talk about the rain. Except they're not actually talking about the rain. ✦ riding the blues by TheResurrectionist, dick & bruce & oc, 3.9k “What’s in there, anyway?” Charles asked, rolling down the window. “Looks heavy.” “A few million dollars' worth of electroshock weapons,” the kid said, dead-serious. After a moment, a grin stretched across his face. “Nah, I’m just fucking with you. It’s old clothes, mostly.” ✦ Lexically Homeless by nighhtwing (divineauthor), dick & bruce, 1.1k Dick, Bruce, and their relationship with language and each other.

BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ One, Two, Buckle My Shoe by sElkieNight60, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & alfred, de-aged!dick, 17k wip Dick was twenty-eight. The boy in the mirror most certainly was not. ✦ Weight of Judgment by Dragonbat, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.6k As leader of the Teen Titans, Dick had to make a difficult decision. Now he's dealing with the fallout. ✦ Robins, titmice, and other spring birds by Fleur_de_Violette, dick & jason & bruce, 8.5k There are a lot of things Jason doesn’t understand in the dynamic of the Wayne manor, despite being here for nine months. Maybe a rescue turning a little more dangerous than it should have been for Robin will help him see things clearly? ✦ bachelor parties of different sorts by cedarcat, dick & jason & barbara & cass & bruce (& background dick/babs), read the tags, 4.4k Dick and Barbara are engaged. There's just one complicating factor that Dick has to deal with. He'd rather avoid it. aka: the one where dick handles past trauma poorly, finds the support he needs in his family, and comes out better for it. ✦ Kitchen Talk by Smitty, dick & alfred, 3.1k Dick Grayson gets some good advice in the hours before Nightwing #45. ✦ Teach Me to Dream by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & alfred & leslie & cast, time travel, 29k wip Dick’s eleven. Not thirteen and eager to prove himself. Not seventeen and mourning a brother. Not nineteen and wishing his best friend wasn’t dead and Bruce would look him in the eyes. He’s only eleven. So why does he remember all of that? ✦ like the back of my hand by Jo_B, dick & bruce & conner & dick/babs, 2k “Cut it out.” “Would you stay still, please?” Dick swats Bruce’s hand away and starts pushing himself up. “Y’know, in the wild, bats eat their kids.” “That’s not even a little bit true and you know it.” ✦ idea man by vaporeon_ninja, dick & bruce & jason & damian, 8.3k Ask him. As if it were that easy. As if Damian hasn’t only just barely begun to respect him, and would immediately burn all the ground they’ve covered if Dick so much as implied he wanted to help him get through something. Yeah, fat chance. No, Dick can’t ask him. But he can’t just keep doing nothing, either. So he decides on a third option- just start trying anything. ✦ One of His Own by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & damian & alfred, 1.3k Dick's freshly back from Spyral and apartment hunting. Little Does he know his dad has already got that covered. ✦ Now That's a Lot of Damage by Sanctioned_Chaos, dick & bruce & jason & tim & cass & cast, 5k wip On a joint operation with the Justice League, Dick's family falls victim to a particularly malignant curse and he's the only one who can free them. Consequently, it makes him the subject of their suffering.

BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I'M GONNA THROW HIM AT DICK BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY (AND MAYBE SOME OF HIS OTHER SIBLINGS TOO): ✦ All the Roofs of Uncertainty by Kieron_ODuibhir, dick & jason & bruce & leslie & cast, 70k For all the blood on his hands, Red Hood was never just a villain. And Nightwing never gives up on family, not for good. (Or: The one where Dick bleeds a lot and Jason argues with everybody.) ✦ Red In My Ledger by WordsAblaze, dick & jason, 1.1k day five, where jason realises a little too late that dick isn’t an intruder breaking into his safehouse... ✦ Fixed Points and Fluxes by i_am_the_imposter_syndrome, dick & jason (& bruce), 16.5k wip When a mission involving a mysterious sorcerer goes wrong, Dick and Jason find themselves out of time and place in a Gotham that’s not quite their own. Protocol dictates they lie low and avoid unnecessary interactions as much as possible until they can get home, but their family here is fractured, and if there’s one thing that’s constant across universes, it’s that Bats have each other’s backs. ✦ Too Close to Call by Dragonbat, dick & jason & bruce, 5.8k Summary: Things go horribly wrong when Robin thinks he can bring in Two-Face by himself. Now Nightwing’s life is on the line and one bad decision might spell disaster!

BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I'M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Won't You Stay A While? by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian & tim, 2.8k Ric did not expect to find a child sitting on the hood of his cab. Damian did expect to get his brother back. ✦ The Universe Doesn’t Get to Take This by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian & bruce, 1.9k “And they’re so important that you don’t come home to check on your recently un-amnesiac brother? And here, I thought I was your favorite.” ✦ Just a Little TLC by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian, 1.7k Dick was not sick. Really. He was fine. Fine!

BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ The Long Way Home by itsnatalie, jason & tim & bruce & dick & damian & cast, 111.6k With Jason tentatively back in the Batfamily, things are going pretty well for him--except for the whole thing with Tim. But who gives a shit about Tim Drake? But when Jason and Tim are pulled into a frightening race for their lives inside a labyrinth that's out to kill them, they may have to look past their differences just to stay alive. Maybe along the way, they'll discover they aren't as different as they thought, and family comes in many different forms. ✦ IRIS Log #1548 by deadchannelradio, jason & cass & barbara & bruce & steph & tim & damian & roy & dick, 8.5k A Disclaimer From Your Friendly Neighborhood Oracle: The following is a transcript of Patrol Communications Audio written by state of the art transcription technology, IRIS (Interpretation of Recorded Intelligence Software). IRIS was created to provide easily searchable records, automatically, and eliminate the need to transcribe each patrol audio log manually. That being said, IRIS is still experimental, and may not always be entirely accurate. ✦ Real Housewives (sort of) of Gotham by brandywine421, dick & selina & bruce & damian & jason & roy & talia & dinah & harley/ivy & helena & cast, no powers au, 5.9k Selina is curious to a fault but she has a twinge of concern at her almost-stepson's name popping up on her personal line. They were allies and frenemies, depending on who was Brucie's favorite pet at the moment but he usually texts birthday wishes and xoxo's instead of actual voice contact. "Is everyone okay?" ✦ War! by Smitty, dick & barbara & tim & cast, 1.9k What 'entertainment' was Nightwing talking about in Nightwing #44? Innuendo. ✦ Nowhere Safer by lurkinglurkerwholurks, dick & jason & tim & bruce, 9.6k What's a Robin to do when the nightmares don't stop? ✦ Love like Cats by Laroyena, alfred & bruce & dick & jason & julia & cast, 20.7k “This takes crazy cat people to a whole new level,” his old friend told him. “So this old family your dad took care of, they left their fortune to a cat.” Alfred Pennyworth, ex-special agent of the British Secret Intelligence Service, moves to America to become a butler. A cat butler. ✦ Minimum Height Requirement by Drag0nst0rm, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph, 66.4k Somewhere in the multiverse, there's a universe where letting his children dress up in capes and follow him into vigilantism seems like a good idea. Bruce is determined that it isn't going to be this one . . . Despite his children's repeated attempts to convince him otherwise. (Or: "When you're eighteen, you can do what you want. Until then, no capes.")

✦ Family Crisis by librarylexicon, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & steph & leslie & cast, 85.8k At the close of the gang war, Batman uncovers an attempted deception concerning the life of his former protégé Stephanie Brown, and suddenly nothing is as important as his family. While Dick seeks absolution, Tim struggles with grief, Cassandra searches for belonging and Steph rebuilds her sense of self, Bruce faces the return of ghosts from his own past and psyche. (War Games AU) ✦ grasp of ice by Kieron_ODuibhir, tim & damian, 6k “Drake.” The hand in his was cold. Not because it belonged to a corpse, but because the night was cold. Cold and bright and pitiless, fresh snow glittering perfect under the waning gibbous moon like diamond sand. “Drake. Stay awake.” Drake, because he was insane, smiled before he said, “I don’t want your pity, Robin.” ✦ The Salem Protocol by Dragonbat, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & barbara & jim & cast, 47.4k An AU version of Batman, RIP. When the GCPD makes a surprising arrest, Gordon knows he needs to call in support. Contains MASSIVE spoilers for Batman #678.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NO ONE WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ Hide and Seek by WordsAblaze, dick & tim, 1.1k day twenty five, where a mission leaves dick and tim playing a not-so-fun version of hide and seek... ✦ To be a good brother by andthentheyweretwo, dick & tim (&tim/kon), 7.7k It’s not always easy to be a good brother. Sometimes, it’s downright hard. ✦ Think Happy Thoughts by fanfictiongreenirises, dick & tim & bruce, 2.3k Dick's vitals keep crashing if his thoughts turn downwards. Tim tries to help. ✦ Hisstamine by coyote_nebula, dick & tim, 2.7k Dick gets bitten by a venomous snake. Tim pretends to know exactly what to do. ✦ Words That Must Be Said by Dragonbat, dick & tim, 1.4k Tim needs Dick's advice when his long-lost uncle turns up.

BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK/BABS FOREVER AND YOU CAN SHUT IT IF YOU DISAGREE, THEY'RE ADORABLE TOGETHER: ✦ I'll crawl home (to her) by dizarys, dick & babs, ~1k She needed to focus. She was Oracle and Oracle couldn’t falter or be distracted by personal feelings, not when multiple lives depended on her coordinating teams across the city, the country, the globe. There was no time to worry about Nightwing or his radio silence. Too much going on to pester him. He got out, said he wasn’t majorly wounded, and she needed to trust him. After all he was Nightwing. Vigilante since he was ten. Dick didn’t need her worrying in his ear while trying to stay alive. They needed to be professional because anything else could end in death. ✦ to my word now I'll be true by theragingstorm, dick/ babs, NSFW, 4.7k A chance night becomes something more. ✦ Scar Tissue by Smitty, dick/babs, 2k Some scars heal more easily than others. ✦ Time Enough by Smitty, dick/babs, 1k Barbara asked him for time.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE'S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ What a Hunk (Of Rock) by AelinSardothian, tim/kon & cast, 4.4k Tim is pulling another all-nighter when an injured Kryptonian lands on his balcony, leaking blood and affection. ✦ Obligatory Nap Time by egg_thief, tim/kon, 2.6k Tim hasn’t been sleeping lately. Kon’s determined to at least get him to take a nap ✦ GUY.exe by thebodydies, tim/kon, NSFW, 4.6k “If you tell me what you want,” Conner said, “I’ll do the rest.”

BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ threadbare by inconstant_moon, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & donna & cast, read the tags, 53.8k wip That's the thing. Dick looked right at the kid, broken hand and all, and nearly let him in. He nearly let him train. Because after all these years, he didn't process anything wrong with the image before him. (Dick, Bruce, and the implications of raising a partner instead of a child.) ✦ Kindness isn't Free by minnow_doodle_doo, bruce & dick & alfred, no powers au, 6.7k “You need to love humanity unconditionally or else the world will beat you into the ground and you won’t be able to get back up again.” He said into Dick’s hand like a prayer. “And you can’t kill what you love and survive.” ✦ Home Assignment by librarylexicon, dick & bruce & tim & babs (some dick/babs), 6.8k Blüdhaven police officer Dick Grayson is suffering the tail end of a nasty cough when he's summoned to work a stakeout as Nightwing with Batman and Robin in Gotham. As the night wears on, his worst fears are realised when three urgent pleas for help pull him in separate directions, forcing him to choose between members of his own family in a way that feels suspiciously intentional. ✦ How Sharp The Pieces Were (You Crumbled Into) by WinterSky101, dick & tim & damian & cass & bruce & alfred & steph & duke & cast, 14.9k wip Dick is back, but scars like his don't heal easily, even with a new healing factor. (Thirteen stories of Dick and his family in the year after his return to Gotham.) ✦ Pain o' Chocolate by Anonymous, bruce & dick, 1k Dick is in a coma.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #barbara gordon #alfred pennyworth #fic recs #batman fic recs #long post #feral gremlin length post

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madschiavelique · 3 days ago

Text

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 5 - Temperance

summary : viktor and reader work together in the library (so much banter, it's insane), then maybe there's a small fight because a guy called viktor a cripple and that causes some issues

content warnings : mentions of blood but really not that much tbh

word count : 5,4k

author's note : you thought i was gone on this one huh ? WRONG. we're so back babies! i know it's been 2 years since i've touched this baby okay, but i'm back now! hopefully i will get more time to write about this lil guy bc i love this fic.

masterlist : 1 — 2 — 3 — 4 — 5

(not proofread, english is not my first language ✦)

taglist : @doctorho

For the rest of the two long hours, Heimerdinger continued his lesson.

The class had come to an end, you silent, the class teeming with gossip. Professor Heimerdinger had distributed the subjects one by one to the students at the end of the lesson. He was a perfectly reasonable, friendly teacher who tried to make his pupils laugh at the expense of their historical knowledge.

When you had a lesson with him, you knew you were listening to a teacher who was wise enough to turn events and experiences into jokes to lighten the burden of his history lessons.

He was always on the lookout for questions and comments from the students, not hesitating for a moment as he gave the subjects to the groups one by one to point out the difficulties they might find and the pitfalls that might await them.

In short, Heimerdinger wanted his students to succeed, not to see a decline in the Piltover Academy's chances of success, which in the eyes of many seemed to be something to crow about rather than something to be ashamed of.

The very idea of being one of the few students to overcome these difficulties and succeed was, in your eyes, the greatest reward that could ever be given to you.

“Young folks,” he said, pointing to the two of you. “Come this way. I have reserved a subject especially for you.”

Heimerdinger didn't do things haphazardly. He gave students subjects that reflected them, or at least where he knew the results would be most interesting. You couldn't help but fear what he was up to.

When the students had dispersed, the tinkle of Viktor's cane sounded until he arrived at your side. You sighed audibly as you looked at him, crossing your arms over your chest as he gave you a winning smile.

He seemed to enjoy it when you got angry, and took great pleasure in teasing you constantly. Had he been a friend, you wouldn't have held it against him, even though your list of friends consisted mainly of Eris, Sky and Jayce. However, a friend wasn't supposed to be a problem for your success. There's only so much space in the academy for students who come out on top, and you weren't about to give yours away.

“Good,” he said at last as the last student passed through the doorway. “There's no need to point out that you two are the sharpest elements of this class, you're well enough aware of that, as is the rest of the school certainly.”

Your bickering and petty battles almost made the corridors of the school come alive again with the excitement of rumour and gossip partaking in your reputation.

“None of the fellow teachers in this establishment seem to have brought to the table, however, a possibility which seems to me to be the most interesting for both of you: teamwork.”

You arched an eyebrow, finding the reasoning profoundly moronic.

“Sir,” you couldn't help but point out, “this school is eliminatory. Why would you want to associate students who won't necessarily all have the chance to pass the exams?”

Heimerdinger chuckled, “I'm not doing it with the prospect of a pass or a gold medal waiting for you at the finish line, Miss.”

You tilted your chin up in a slight pout of surprise.

“You see, I'm not necessarily trying to prepare you for the exams, but for what will happen once they're over. Having a diploma is all very well on paper, but what counts most in the end will be what you achieve.”

“All right,” you admit, “but why put us in a pair like this?”

“It's quite simple,” he jumped up from his desk, trotting across the floor to stand in front of you, your eyes downcast on him. “In the working environment, you don't always find a shoe to fit. And when you don't have the power to dismiss your colleague just because you don't like them, you have to learn to sacrifice your temperament for the sake of the common good. Now, I'm not asking you to make sacrifices, that word is far too violent, but I am asking you to compromise.”

You exchanged a look with Viktor, your fists clenching until your knuckles were white. You'd already made enough compromises for one lifetime, and now you had to go on? He, for his part, didn't seem too bothered by the situation. How could he be so calm? So serene about the idea of cooperating?

“You don't always work with the person of your choice, and not always on the subjects you'd prefer. Oh, that's just it! Speaking of subjects…”

He stood on tiptoe, grabbing the last sheet of paper from his desk and holding it out to Viktor.

The latter, for once, frowned in pure confusion and even perhaps... irritation?

“The evolution of Zaun's power?”

Your eyes narrowed before shifting from Viktor to Heimerdinger, “Are you joking?”

“I do love to laugh young lady but the shortest jokes are the best. You both seem, for different reasons, to have an excellent knowledge of Zaun. Its political power, its evolution, and even the iconic figures who can make themselves forgotten in the shadows of its depths.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, trying to remain upright and not revolt on the spot. Heimerdinger seemed way too amused and happy of his little scheme.

“Any questions?”

Viktor read the subject and what you had to complete, “Do you have any books to recommend to us Professor?”

Heimerdinger's voice became a blur as your thoughts drifted like the Grey in Zaun. Every corner of this city was out to kill you, and even when you were out of it, it followed you like your shadow.

Were you ever going to get out of such a cycle, out of this city’s grasp ?

“Miss?”

The teacher's voice brought you back down to earth. Distracted, you simply offered a confused hum in question so that he would repeat his last words.

“Your assignment is due in a month. That gives you time to put your differences aside and find a way of working together. If you'll excuse me, my next class is coming up soon.”

He gestured towards the exit, and soon enough you found yourselves in the corridor. The momentary emptiness of the hall almost seemed to bring you back to reality.

You drew in a breath, meeting Viktor's gaze beside you. You couldn't afford to get a bad mark, especially not for a Heimerdinger course. He was one of the most renowned scientists in the country, with his own seat on the Piltover council. To produce mediocre work would be to end your career on the spot, and you were prepared to at least try to cooperate with someone like Viktor.

“Why are you not begging the teacher to put us both in different duos?” you asked while Viktor was still reading the subject content.

“Hm, I think it might be fun.” he said, not even glancing at you.

You scoffed, “You and me?” your trigger finger pointing back and forth between the two of you, “Together? Fun?”

His eyes dropped from the paper, scanning you with a changed interest.

“You'd rather go back in there and ask for a rematch like a loser?”

A muscle near your eye tensed for a moment.

He sighed, his eyes returning to the subject, “Admitting defeat takes strength.”

“So you think I'm weak ?”

But Viktor didn't seem to have the slightest interest in you at the moment.

You relaxed your shoulders, sighing. There was no point in trying to beat him, you weren't - on that subject at least - in competition.

“Can I see the subject?” you asked, reaching for the paper, but he removed it from your reach in an instant.

You frowned, this wasn't going to be easy.

“Do I disgust you?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard, your eyes blinking several times as you almost looked at him with fresh eyes.

If the question was purely physical, no, Viktor didn't disgust you. He was always accompanied at all times and in all places by that same invariable weariness that gave him a particular elegance. He had features common in Zaun, brown hair, amber eyes, and an accent that made some of the girls in your class drop like flies.

When it came to his character and personality though, it was another thing entirely.

“You annoy me,” you replied, managing to snatch the subject of his hand with enough agility that the gesture left him surprised, “but you don't disgust me.”

He remained silent for a moment. You could feel his eyes on you as yours fell on those of the subject.

“The only thing that disgusts me is your taste in pasta,” you confirmed.

He let out a little laugh, the kind that mixes humming and nose blowing, the kind you do when a remark makes you nostalgic.

“Friday, 5pm, library, don't be late.” he said simply, the clink of his cane echoing on the floor as he began to walk away.

As your eyes roamed over the page, you couldn't help but take in nothing of what was written. Your mind was stuck on him, on the trick Heimerdinger had just played on you.

He had just orchestrated a game that the whole school was going to bet on, the teachers were going to look at your situation in a new light, and in the worst case scenario, multiply the group work to put you both in pairs.

Your heart looped as you realised that this was undoubtedly another test. Heimerdinger was going to observe which of you was the best performer, the most pliable, the best at teamwork.

You had to be flawless, you had to.

Friday came earlier than you imagined, and you weren't looking forward to it in the least. You hadn't stopped thinking about it, finding yourself on numerous occasions distracted during your homework.

The card of the day you had drawn was Temperance, and the little booklet told you:

Alchemy. Mixing and harmonising opposing forces and concepts. Maintaining opposing ideas and encouraging complexity in life. Fusion produces evolution.

The archangel Gabriel, the angel messenger, is represented on the card. He wears the sign of the sun on his forehead. This is also the alchemist's symbol for gold. This card reflects the changing of the seasons and the adoption of new ideas. Temper in Latin is the act of repetition to invoke skill or to refine something, to make it sharper like a sword.

What a pain that was, and to think you'd have to endure this for a whole month of deep research and hours spent by his side working, together.

You dragged your feet as you made your way to the academy library.

It was a magnificent place, filled with the smell of varnished wood, old paper and dried ink. The ceiling was arched, the bookshelves forming real walls that separated the room like rows of pews in a church. If it hadn't been reserved for the academy's research students, it would surely have been on Piltover's list of monuments to visit.

There weren't many people there, apart from a small handful of students finishing their homework before basking in the arrival of the weekend. You were a good fifteen minutes early, and didn't see Viktor at all.

You were just about to put your bag and things down by a table and start your research, when a voice you wouldn't have preferred to hear at the time greeted you:

“Ah, there you are,” Viktor approached, coming out of one of the library corridors, “I just needed some help to get to the higher tomes.”

With his free hand, he held up a small stack of tomes, pressing them under his chin before placing them on a table with two or three other books already laid out.

You sighed, moving your things over to his table, “Have you been there for long already?”

“Why, do you care about me?” his cheeky grin made you roll your eyes.

“I think you overestimated my greatness. Which shelf?”

He said nothing, making his way to one of the shelves. You followed him. Fortunately, the women's uniforms at the academy had trousers. You wouldn't have known what to do if it had been otherwise and you'd ended up on a ladder above him.

“You know,” he began as you reached the meagre ladder to the upper shelves, “I've been looking forward to working with you.”

You arched an eyebrow, your hand gripping the ladder as you looked at him in confusion.

“Why?”

The two of you were only picking on each other, you were avoiding him like the plague, and you'd made it clear to him several times that your situation was that of a competition. So obviously you had a right to be surprised as to why he'd want to work with you.

He shrugged. “You were the top student before I came here, surely there must be a reason behind it.”

You expelled an abrupt puff from your lungs, your breath taken away by his insolence. You could only expect it after all.

You climbed a few steps up the ladder, looking for Zaun's historical tomes.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment, or am I to believe my working buddy seeks to diminish me to a fictive second rank?”

“We're in a library, alas, reality catches up to this fiction, miss number two.”

You clutched the volume in your hand, your nostrils flaring for a moment in anger. He knew how to annoy you, and you never seemed to find a single point on which you could reciprocate.

You held out the tomes one by one for him to take. “Guess I could work on a pet name for you too.”

“Be my guess.”

Once his arm was full, you took a few tomes in your hands before climbing down the ladder and walking towards the table. “And make you the honour of thinking of something to be done for you ? I'd rather lick sandpaper.”

He feigned disappointment, “So I do disgust you, this pains me.”

You set the pile of volumes down on the table, reaching into your bag to pull out paper and pens.

“Yeah well, You were supposed to pretend I didn't exist, not try to bother me to death. So I guess we're both disappointed.”

He took a seat, grabbing a volume and placing it in front of him. “So I bother you ?”

You sat down opposite him, imitating his gesture as you searched with interest for a tome to start with.

“What a transcending sense of observation you have.”

He brought both his hands up in front of him, resting his chin on the backs of his fingers.

“How do I bother you?”

You were starting to get annoyed by his questions. You had come here to work, not to chat.

“Your simple existence?” you replied, staring into his eyes.

He sighed, opening his book and noting on the page its title.

“As if yours wasn't proof that failure has a sense of humour.”

You said nothing, letting his comment wander in the air as you started your own research in silence, locating the chapter of interest to you in the table of contents.

“But seriously,” Viktor continued, “why do I bother you?”

You sighed, pinching the page you were on before shifting your eyes from the words on it to Viktor's curious amber gaze.

“You want an honest answer ?”

He nodded. You let go of the page, straightening up.

“You come into my life and wreck everything I've built brick by brick, wouldn't you be the slightest bit frustrated if that happened to you ?”

It was his turn to be silent this time. He seemed to look at you differently, as if, by some miracle perhaps, he'd just realised what was at stake for you in this situation.

He wasn't even touching the tip of the iceberg of why you'd come to the Academy, but for a moment he seemed to understand how important it could be for you.

Your eyes returned to your page, trying to find keywords to write down or information to record.

“You surpassed me in the exam, teachers love you, you make great friends…”

“Almost sounds like you're obsessed with me.”

Your lips parted, eyes wide as you looked at him as if he'd just slapped you, leaving your cheek and your thoughts with a warm tingle. You were so surprised that nothing came from your lips, which was beginning to be enough for a flash of mischief to cross Viktor's eyes and for the corner of his lips to form a sneer.

“I'm not.” You finally reply, trying to remain composed and not to stammer for anything in the world.

“Denial would've worked before the long vacant stare,” he says, advancing slightly on the table.

“Why do you have to be like that?”

“Like what?”

You humph, dropping back in your chair in despair.

“Better than me.”

He recoiled slightly, as if the remark was completely far-fetched and unfounded.

“There are thousands of people better than me, why do you have to focus on my poor self, hm? Did I barge in your territory?”

He had, unconsciously he truly had. It was you who was supposed to be first, otherwise the consequences would've been mentally dire.

“Take it this way,” he continued, “there's surely something you're better at than me.”

You couldn't think of much on the spot, especially not when there was a possibility of you making a list of things he topped you in. There was surely one thing though.

“Running.”

He opened his lips in surprise, a smile stretching across his face which he hid with his hand. You were already regretting what you'd just said.

“Jayce is going to be the first one hearing about this.”

“No it's-”

“So you're participating in a system made against disabilities.”

“I never-”

“Are you going to steal my crutch next in hopes of beating me to a race?”

“You're never going to drop this now are you ?”

“With such a statement ? Never.”

“Whatever let's just- let's just work.” you mumble, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and shame as you desperately try to move on.

He gave one last chuckle before getting back to work. He seemed to be reading a tome on the history of the masters of Zaun.

“About Tytos, I still think you've got that wrong.” he said as he read another page from the tome.

“I think I'm going to smash your face in.” you replied calmly without looking at him.

“As if you could reach me.”

“You know what-” you began, raising your voice.

However, somebody shushed you in the room, restricting you to remaining calm.

“Raising your voice in a library? You'd have to be a stupid fool.”

“Trying to contradict me when even Heimerdinger considered my answer excellent is not the wisest either.”

“Heimerdinger would tell a snail that goes slightly faster than the norm it's excellent. But maybe your low self esteem is just common sense.”

“Maybe my self esteem will just leave this library right now.” you say, crossing your arms on the table.

“And leave me to pursue this matter on my own? That wouldn't be very serious, miss number two.”

You sighed, getting back to work. Your blood was boiling in your veins just from sitting at this table.

“None of the books mention Tytos.”

“Since when do you trust Piltover books on the accounts of the history of Zaun ?”

Touché. He raised his eyebrows as if it were the only relevant thing you could have said.

“You never said where you were from, in Zaun,” he remarked.

You tensed slightly. “Why do you want to know that ?”

“We're making an exposé on Zaun, we're both from there, might as well just know it,” he said, raising his eyes to yours.

You watched him for a moment, he didn't seem to want to make a joke of you once your answer was out of your mouth. But in any case, you weren't going to give it to him.

“You wouldn't know,” you replied simply as you jotted down another date.

‘I'm sure that I-”

“You don't want to know.’ you said firmly, the seriousness taking over your face to assure him that this was certainly not territory he wished to venture into.

He frowned, confused. He seemed deeply intrigued by you, and that made you uncomfortable. Never before in your life had anyone asked you so many questions about yourself in such a short space of time. And so here he was, shaking up every one of your pillars like a bowling ball knocking over pins.

This one, however, was not about to give way.

You looked at your watch for a moment, sighing.

“Let's work for one more hour. We'll make a plan and subparts of what we'll talk about at the end of it.”

This time Viktor seemed to get the message: silence.

You couldn't help glancing at him from time to time. You noticed the way his long fingers flicked across the pages, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he read, the way he rested his cheek on the back of his hand with a sigh as he read a boring piece of writing.

Or when he would click his pencil for a moment to write something down, and his handwriting would lie gracefully on the paper, scratching the grain of the paper.

It was not without surprise that, once the hour had passed, there was hardly anyone in the library but the two of you.

When you explained your plan for the presentation to Viktor, he agreed, simply giving a few perfectly critical and serious remarks without condescending to him in any way.

“Good. I think this is a good time to stop for today,” you said as you stood up, taking a stack of books in your arms.

All in all, working with Viktor like this wasn't so bad, when it was done in silence. But as soon as either of you opened your lips to say anything, politeness left the room in great strides.

You put each tome away in its old place, both of you taking your things, and left the library. The academy wasn't closed yet, and some people still had classes or were hanging around in the corridors.

You walked side by side, your pace the same as Viktor's. All the students seemed to turn around as you passed, your duo seeming like a pair of circus animals.

You glanced at Viktor, who didn't seem in the least affected by this.

However, a trio of students were watching you with evil, mocking eyes. You couldn't help but tense up, however, when the one who seemed as tall as he was stupid remarked:

“Die already, cripple. You're slowing the traffic.”

Your shoulders tensed as you walked, expecting to do what you'd always had to do here despite the taunts: ignore and move on.

But Viktor wasn't going to listen to you like that.

“Thank you for your advice, I'll try euthanasia once you'll be able to count higher than the number of butterfingers you've got.”

A few chuckles echoed in the corridor at his reply, but the young man seemed to be boiling with hatred. It was as you passed in front of them that, in a cowardly move, he kicked Viktor's cane.

He lost his balance, falling face first to the ground as his cane fell beside him. The air stopped for a moment with the shock of the gesture, your eyes shifting from Viktor on the ground to the idiot who had just knocked him over. Students knelt down beside him immediately to help him.

“Oops, my foot slipped. Sorry.”

But nothing, of course, conveyed any regret at this behaviour.

He turned his back and walked off with his group of friends. Your blood ran cold.

Quickly, you grabbed Viktor's cane, which was still on the ground, and made it whistle through the air before it struck the back of the student's knees. It was his turn to shrivel up on the floor, and he immediately turned to you, his cheeks red with anger.

“Oops, my hand slipped,” you said, glancing at the crutch for a moment before returning to him. “Sorry.”

You turned back to Viktor, handing him his crutch. He looked at you with fried whiting eyes, deeply surprised by your gesture without moving a muscle.

“You fucking slut…” you heard behind you.

But as soon as you turned around, a sharp blow hit you in the cheek. The force of it knocked you back two steps, a metallic taste spreading through your mouth. You brought your fingers to your lips, hissing as you touched them, your bottom lip burning. Bringing your fingers back into line of sight, you found them bloodied.

You turned to the student, his face far too satisfied for your liking.

‘’What a brilliant idea,‘’ you breathed as, in one swift movement, you struck his crotch with the crutch.

He bent over instinctively, gasping for breath, before you punched him right in the nose. He fell, cowering on the ground like a miserable insect.

"What's going on here?" asked a stern voice.

Madame Agrane, one of your teachers, came into the corridor. Her eyes fell on Viktor on the floor, your lip split, the student on the ground surrounded by his two friends.

“Everyone in my office, now.”

You pressed a bag of ice cubes to your cheek, sitting next to Viktor who was clutching his crutch in his hands. As for the idiot, he kept grumbling and giving you nasty looks. You recognised him now, the student from the museum, the one that had called zaunites rats.

"Can someone explain to me what happened for you all to end up in such states?" questioned Agrane.

You were about to start but the idiot beat you to it.

"Madame Agrane, I was just minding my own business in the corridor when these two pupils came up to me! One was hitting me with his crutch while the other was punching me. I don't know what I've done to deserve this.' He exclaimed theatrically, Viktor and you looking at him like the most ridiculous being to ever be.

If there was one thing that helped your reputation, it was that you were known as serious students, who didn't fall into the category of those who would start a fight in the corridors for no particular reason.

"That is far from the truth," Viktor retorted calmly. "He insulted me, then made me fall, and then...’

He seemed to be hesitating over his words, or at least looking for the right term. He turned to you, letting his eyes drift for a moment to your split lip, and then back to Madame Agrane's gaze.

"... My friend protected me."

Friend? the word made you clench your jaw, inhaling. It was just a lie, just a word brought to the front to give your teacher sympathy. No, he certainly didn't mean it.

The teacher looked at you, seeming more convinced by your story than the other. Noticing this, the student couldn't help but plead his own case:

"Madam, these two students come from Zaun. The blood of violence will always run in their veins."

Agrane seemed to give you a new look, as if you and Viktor were ready to pounce on her like two wolves.

"Is this a joke? You started all this," you said, offended.

"Beating you up would have brought greatness to Piltover." he replied.

"Oh, look at you, attempting greatness! Pity it's just an attempt." you sighed, pressing the ice pack a little closer to your cheek to put out the fire your anger was beginning to spread.

"Madam Agrane," he continued, turning to her, "you know what my patron will think about this. Imagine his reaction when he will hear how you have treated his favoured student?"

You had no idea who his patron could possibly have been, but she didn't hesitate for a second to say:

"Miss, you'll get an hour's detention for your violent behaviour in the corridors. I hope I don't have to catch you again doing such barbaric acts."

Your eyes widened just as much as Viktor's.

"What?! But he's the one who-" you tried, pointing at the idiot who was smiling victoriously.

"There's no buts about it. The discussion is closed. You'll have your detention period this Monday."

"Madam, I think there's been a mistake." Viktor began.

"Do you want to be given detention too, young man?"

Viktor remained silent, sighing before lowering his eyes to the ground.

"Good, see you on Monday, then."

The fool stood up first, walking past you with a foolish grin on his face.

"Bet it feels just like home to be in prison by monday, hm?"

Your lip hemmed in disgust, your nose scrunching up.

"Try what you've done just once more, and I'll personally make sure you have no offspring."

He looked slightly frightened for a moment, then frowned like a child before leaving the room.

You sighed, standing up. You wanted to get out of here right away, away from the horrible feeling of injustice in your heart, away from the word ‘punishment’ burning into your skin.

Your free hand instinctively came to rest on your shoulder for comfort, and you stood up to get your things.

“You didn’t have to do this earlier, you know.” Viktor said.

You sighed, walking towards the door. “Whatever, what is done is done.”

"Hey," Viktor said, standing up behind you.

You didn't even turn to him.

"Thanks, I wasn't expecting that at all."

You waited for something, for anything that would come after what he had just said, but nothing came. Your turned to him.

"Is that all? No remarks about how I'd have been better off hitting him somewhere else, or stupid sarcasm about my action?"

He seemed surprised by your reaction, his face puzzled and almost saddened.

"We're not friends, Viktor." you said, your face as cold as the ice pack on your cheek. "We're..."

But what were you apart from rivals? Two rivals working together to do a job that would rely on both of you, that wasn't really rivalry. It was camaraderie in a way, you were classmates, but friends?

You pursed your lips, a slight trickle of blood beading from them.

"See you next week."

Without further ado, you left the room. You walked down the corridors, the students staring at you like an alien. You were suffocating under all those sharp, curious, numerous stares. You pressed on, leaving the academy as quickly as possible.

Once outside, you took the first quiet alley you could find.

“Shit!” you swore, pressing your back against the first wall you could find.

You brought your hand up to your forehead, sighing until you almost felt your body slide down the wall, running your palm over your face in frustration and exhaustion.

You wanted to cry, the weight of everything feeling like it was zipping up on you like a body bag. You'd been stupid, acting on your emotions. You should have kept your head down, let the administration do its job, not invented a life of heroism trying to redress the balance that some fool had tipped.

You didn't even like Viktor, but you'd still jumped at the chance to do him justice. No, you didn't like Viktor any more than that.

But you respected him.

Could you be friends with him?

The question passed through your mind for a moment, but you ended up putting it out of your mind.

You let your head fall back against the wall. The thought of an hour's detention in your perfect record seemed to you like a thread sticking out of a beautiful dress, itching to be pulled on. You tried to console yourself, to come to terms with the fact that it was just another hour of extra study. But you couldn't help feeling heavy with pain.

Eventually you gathered up your things and walked home, hoping that the cool night air would help to quench the fire that was still boiling inside you. Winter was on your doorstep, and ready to complicate things.

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#madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#a crown of ink #acoi #viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #arcane reader x you #academic rivals to lovers #academic rivals #arcane #viktor arcane #arcane x reader #slow burn #viktor imagine

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unbotheredgoose · 10 hours ago

Text

if there's one thing you know about yourself is that you shouldn watch your mouth when you're drunk.

but you're out with your friend, and she looks beautiful when she laughs, and it's so good to see her not stressed from work, and it's great that you finally get to hang out after such a long time, and you can't help but ask her:

"why?"

"why what?"

"why do you humans keep wasting so many resources trying to make that earth planet habital? i don't get it."

she gets this somber look in her face. the laughter stops. she looks like she might cry.

you feel terrible.

"i'm so sorry, i shouldn't have... you don't have to answer that-"

"my grandma was born there, you know that?"

you stop talking. she looks distant.

"when i was a kid, she told us all about how it used to be, before everything. when she was little, she lived in a small house with her parents, and her mom grew crops in the garden, and they had a tree that gave them bitersweet fruit on the summers. sometimes birds would make nests on that tree, and she and my great grandma would set up little houses and playthings for the babies to play with.

she was always fascinated by birds. all animals, really, but especially birds. i've never seen a bird in my entire life if not for her drawings, and she always regretted the fact that she never got into coloring to show us exactly what they looked like.

she has pictures of her and her college friends visiting waterfalls and running together in the wilderness. she used to camp, like, a lot, really camp, in the middle of the woods, just her and her friends, like we read in the books. it's different from camping in vr, she kept telling us, we had to actually learn how to not die in the woods.

she married my grandpa at the beach, and... it's so different from the simulations. the sunset was beautiful in the pictures she showed us, but she told us that it was even better in person. she looked so beautiful with her sunburnt skin, even though she was in pain, and we never have to worry about burning our skin because of the sun, everything is all so protected and artificial, we don't even see the sun anymore.

my grandparents promised each other that when they got older they would have a farm. my grandma always wanted a few birds and a big dog. but then, when my parents were ten years old, the planet was so screwed that they had to populate other planets. she kept telling us that she was one of the lucky ones, because my grandpa was in the military and they helped people evacuate, but that most people like her died on earth.

everyone thinks it's our fault, you know? we doomed our planet, why would we even be trying so hard to restore it? i don't know. my grandma did it because she didn't want my parents to grow up in this place, where everything is made up and she did it all for nothing, because we're still here and we know nothing different from it. and to be honest, it's kind of hard to believe it was her fault in the first place. she really did her best. she saved water. she planted trees. she protected birds and other wildlife. she protested.

the truth is: no one listened. no one important enough, at least. no one cared about the little people like her, who were just trying to live their lives in a doomed world, and kept doing her best. the big guys wanted the money and they fucked everyone else over just to have it."

"i'm sorry, i-"

"i guess now that we've lost everything people are finally learning to miss what we used to have. our lives weren't so bad. and we want to go home, even though that doesn't make sense. i don't know what home looks like. i don't know what a bird looks like, or what it's like to stand on a beach and feel the waves lap at your feet, or what the forest smells like. but i keep trying to go back anyways."

she takes a sip of her drink.

you stay silent.

"You humans have hundreds of planets under your control, so why do you waste so many resources trying to make that Earth planet habital? I genuinely don't understand."

#writing prompts #wow i got inspired for this one

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starlingflight · 2 days ago

Note

Prompt: Sirius being a massive Hinny shipper, please and thank you ♥️♥️♥️

This was supposed to be a drabble. Read below or on AO3 here:

He had first noticed it in the summer.

At first, Sirius had thought Harry to have a particularly strong affection for Crookshanks, a sentiment that Sirius only found wholly sensible and had not questioned further.

It had taken a few weeks to realise it was not the charming bandy-legged cat that Harry’s eyes were subconsciously following. Likewise, the cat wasn’t the recipient of an increasingly frequent number of silent, secretive shared smiles whenever someone was unfortunate enough to do something that garnered Harry’s amusement; no, the honour of that bestowment fell to the equally charming — and equally ginger — young lady who had devoted a great deal of her summer to entertaining Crookshanks.

Again, Sirius couldn’t find anything to disagree with in the object of Harry’s attention, indeed, his good opinion of Ginny had been formed immediately upon meeting her, when, one balmy evening, at the very beginning of summer, she had come bounding into Grimmauld Place’s dank kitchen, flashed a bright grin at Sirius across the old wooden table and declared, “It’s nice to meet you, but I don’t think much of your family’s choice in interior decoration.”

Sirius’ smile was no longer familiar to him, but it had risen easily at the sentiment. “Was it the house-elf heads that put you off?”

The girl's eyes had widened in alarm; her nose had wrinkled in distaste. “House-elf heads?”

“Ah, so you haven't taken a trip upstairs yet?”

With that scant piece of information, she'd turned on her heel and marched straight back out of the kitchen, a harried-looking Molly Weasley calling “for Heaven's sake, Ginny,” behind her, but Ginny had only continued striding her path, set on inspecting the most gruesome spectacles lining the hallways of Grimmauld Place.

Harry hadn’t arrived at the Order's gloomy headquarters until weeks later. By that time, everyone but Sirius seemed to have accepted the chafing captivity offered by his parents' old house with, if not good humour, a grudging attempt at it.

And then Sirius had found his already-conflicted emotions torn once more as he'd reckoned with exactly what the task James and Lily had charged him with really meant.

Protecting Harry, keeping him safe, giving him enough information to protect himself in the face of direct orders from Dumbledore and the teenaged ire being thrown at him across the dining room table from his beloved Godson; his guilt not eased by the scorn that was being directed at him from a perfect replica of Lily's eyes, ones that silently assured him he'd already failed, otherwise, he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.

It wasn't a new guilt though, Sirius had been living with it for fourteen years now, and it was certainly a lighter burden than it had been all those interminable days locked up with the Dementors. Though he’d exchanged Azkaban for another prison, one he'd thought he'd escaped at age sixteen, at least there were moments of levity now.

There was the Weasley family's easy affection with one another, and their warmth which seemed to fill the frigid house despite its determination to remain unwelcoming. There were hearty dinners and good conversation, and a sense of community that, while welcome, made Sirius ache for the best friends he would never share a meal with again.

There was also Ginny's bright, unrestrained laughter and the way Harry seemed to seek it out. There was the way his Godson's eyes seemed to soften on the youngest of the Weasleys, an occurrence which accomplished the seemingly impossible task of making all traces of James disappear from his face, leaving only Lily.

If Harry was aware of Ginny’s effect on him, however, he did an excellent job of hiding it. None of Sirius’ thinly veiled attempts at suggestion yielded the desired results.

After one of Molly’s delicious — and uncomfortably filling — meals, Sirius had tried to broach the subject in as delicate a manner as possible.

“Ginny’s very funny,” he’d said quietly to Harry, leaning across the small expanse of table that separated them.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed absently, ducking to avoid the dessert bowl Fred had just summoned, and that had gone soaring wildly towards Harry’s head. “She’s a laugh.”

Without giving the matter any further consideration, Harry pushed his chair back from the table, apparently intent on following Ron, who was already heading for the door, and Sirius, who was glad to see Harry in a rare congenial mood where his friends were concerned, had no heart to try and stop him.

Yet Sirius was only deterred temporarily; house arrest did not offer many opportunities for entertainment, and he seized upon this one.

His next attempt to force the matter occurred just days later.

Molly, persisting in her crusade to wipe away years of rot and decay that Sirius privately thought was likely weaved into the very foundations of the house, had seen fit to direct Harry to clear out an ancient wardrobe in one of the guest bedrooms; Sirius immediately volunteered to join the endeavour.

“I think your mum had a hoarding problem,” Harry informed him, removing a sinister-looking, ghostly white Venetian mask from one of the shelves and tossing it unceremoniously into the rubbish bag awaiting at their feet.

Sirius hummed in agreement. “You know, Ginny made a similar observation — she wasn’t very taken with the decor.”

“I’d think there was something seriously wrong with her if she was.”

“But you don’t,” Sirius prompted with forced nonchalance.

“Don’t what?” Harry frowned down at the pair of ancient — and hideous — buckled shoes he’d just collected from the wardrobe floor.

“You don’t think there’s something seriously wrong with Ginny.”

“No,” Harry replied, brow still furrowed as he turned to look at Sirius directly. “Do you?”

“No, of course not!” Sirius waved away the accusation. “I think she’s a charming girl.”

“Right,” Harry discarded the shoes and began flicking through the dusty garments hanging from the rail.

Sirius waited a moment but no other thoughts came forth. He swallowed a sigh. “And you already agreed she’s funny.”

Harry’s only response to this reminder was a noncommittal hum and Sirius was forced to forge ahead without any assistance from his impervious Godson.

“The prank she played on Ron last night with the fake spider was very amusing.”

In truth, Sirius was being generous with this compliment. While he appreciated Ginny’s dedication to the bit, and her willingness to provoke her mother’s ire, he had some notes on how her practical application could be improved that he planned to share with her later.

“Ron didn’t think so,” Harry replied, giving away nothing of his opinion on the matter. “He made me check every inch of our room three times before he’d go to bed.”

“He needn’t be so worried,” Sirius replied. “Crookshanks is dedicated to the task of keeping the house pest-free.”

Harry shook his head, whether at Sirius’ reassurance or the ghastly acid-green lace robes he’d just removed from the wardrobe, it was impossible to say.

There was no opportunity to ask, for at that moment Molly’s voice came calling from the corridor outside the room, beckoning them down to yet another dinner where Sirius was forced to watch Harry’s eyes wander to Ginny with painful obliviousness.

This pattern continued for the rest of the summer holidays, a period that was woefully short and allowed Sirius no further chance to help Harry reach the obvious conclusion. Indeed, any attempts he did make were met with little more than teenaged grunts and abrupt changes of subject and before Sirius knew it, Harry was boarding the Hogwarts Express, Ginny was swallowed by a group of her friends on the crowded platform and even this simple self-given mission had evaded success.

After that passed interminably long, lonely months locked up in the drafty old house with nothing but the fleeting company of Order members flitting in and out; Sirius’ only constant companion was Kreacher, possibly the only being he considered worse company than a dementor.

Undoubtedly, Sirius had not considered himself overcome with festive spirit in the run-up to Christmas. Nor could he find himself cheerful at the circumstances that brought house guests to him for the holidays, but once it was ascertained that Arthur would survive the terrible attack he’d sustained at the hands — or rather, fangs — of Voldemort’s snake, Sirius could not deny himself glad of the company provided once more by Harry and the Weasley’s.

By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, Sirius was in a rare state of high spirits.

Grimmauld Place remained stubbornly bleak but the festoons of holly and glittering ribbons he’d draped from every available surface — helped by Ginny who certainly proved she had more of an eye for decoration than most of Sirius’ relatives — went some way to brightening the place up; as did the spectacularly impressive fireworks Fred and George had set off around the house well before the clock had begun to approach midnight.

By chance, a small party had gathered in the kitchen owing to Remus and Tonks’ unexpected early return from a mission, and Kingsley’s appearance with a collection of bottles of Ogden’s, which were quickly passed around the adults.

“I’ll have mine to go,” Sirius said as Kingsley poured him a generous measure of the amber liquid. “I really should make sure Buckbeak’s settled before things get too raucous.”

“I can go,” Harry offered from beside Sirius as he leaned to collect one of the bottles of butterbeer Kingsley had brought for the kids. “I haven’t seen him much since I’ve been back.”

“We’ll come with you,” Hermione offered, popping the cap on her own bottle of butterbeer.

Before Harry could think to respond, he was cut off by a groan from Ron who had been surveying the platter of mince pies, sausage rolls and various other finger foods Molly had just set out on the table. “I was just about to eat,” he protested.

Hermione’s lips pursed in unimpressed exasperation but Sirius was already formulating a plan, prepared to seize an opportunity that had not presented itself since the kids had returned from Hogwarts.

“Ginny can go with you,” he said quickly, eyes fixed on Harry even as he raised his voice loud enough for Ginny to hear from the opposite side of the kitchen where she was presently occupied ensuring Crookshanks didn’t burn his paws as he attempted to bat at the still-whizzing fireworks. “Ginny, could you go and check on Buckbeak for me, please?”

Her response was immediate. She scooped Crookshanks up into her arms as she stood, nodding enthusiastically at the suggestion.

“I can go alone,” Harry protested sullenly. “No one is going to attack me between here and the landing.”

“Of course not,” Sirius agreed, waving away his protests with the hand still clutching his whiskey glass. “But you don’t want to be alone on New Year’s, do you?”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “I think I’d survive for ten minutes.”

“Yes,” Sirius continued as Ginny’s form grew closer in his peripheral vision. “But Ginny is excellent with Buckbeak — she’s very good with animals, have you noticed?”

Harry shrugged again. “I suppose.”

Ginny paused her approach to deposit Crookshanks into Hermione’s waiting arms.

“Well, that’s settled then.” Lightly, Sirius nudged Harry towards her. “The two of you will go together.”

Ginny joined them just in time to hear this conclusion; her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I didn’t realise it was a two-person job.”

“Apparently Sirius thinks I need supervision,” Harry informed her.“

“And he chose me to supervise?” Ginny frowned in horror. “I’m disappointed in myself for giving a false impression of responsibility.”

Right on cue, Sirius watched as her eyes met Harry’s and identical smirks bloomed on both their faces.

“Come on,” Harry inclined his head towards the door. “We‘ll try not to get into too much trouble on the way upstairs.”

“Maybe you will,” Ginny countered, already following him out of the room. “I never made any such promises.”

Sirius watched them go with a self-satisfied smile of his own. His triumphant mood, however, did not last long before being quickly burst by the pointed sound of a throat clearing behind him.

He turned to find Remus and Tonks staring at him in amusement.

“What was that about?” Remus asked, his arms folded expectantly over his chest.

“What was what?” Sirius asked innocently.

Remus shook his head wearily. “Need I remind you I’ve witnessed that exact manoeuvre before, minutes prior to the Great Venomous Tentacula Debacle of 1976.”

Sirius huffed dismissively. “This is nothing like that,” he disagreed. “I’m quite confident neither Harry nor Ginny are going to attempt to feed the other to Buckbeak.”

Which was almost exactly what had happened when Sirius had schemed to have Lily and James partnered in Herbology at the beginning of their sixth year. Of course, Lily had assured Professor Evergreen that she had meant no harm to James when she’d shoved him into the awaiting jaws of the predatory plant; she had only meant for it to ‘take a few bites out of his over-inflated head’.

“That’s not what I meant,” Remus disagreed with his practised look of weak disapproval that was so easy to ignore. “As you well know.”

Sirius sighed, chancing a glance over his shoulder to confirm no one was nearby before stepping closer to Remus and Tonks and saying in a voice too low for anyone else to overhear over the revellers of the night. “They simply need a nudge in the right direction, one that I’m more than willing to provide.”

Remus’ frown deepened. “A nudge in which direction?”

“A romantic one,” Sirius responded imploringly, surely that much was obvious to anyone with eyes. “Don’t you see it? They’re perfect for one another.”

“Harry and Ginny?” Remus attempted to clarify, his voice dripping with scepticism.

Any answer Sirius might have made was abruptly drowned out by Tonks’ unbridled laughter.

“What?” Sirius demanded, immediately disliking the smug shake of her head. “What’s so amusing?”

“Oh, nothing,” Tonks replied as she brought her laughter back under control. “Only that you’re obviously completely out of the loop.”

“I am not,” he protested at once, indignance flaring at the suggestion he might be uninformed. “Out of the loop regarding what?”

“So many things,” Tonks replied, sighing with superiority. “But, in particular, Ginny’s boyfriend and Harry’s preferred choice of snogging partner.”

“Harry’s what?” Sirius demanded, feeling rather as though one of Fred and George’s fireworks had just struck him directly in the face. Surely, if Harry was seeing someone, he would at least bother to tell Sirius as much.

“Sounds like you have all the teenage gossip,” Remus said, encouraging Tonks to share the details while Sirius reeled from the revelation that he, apparently, knew nothing.

“I only know what Ginny tells me,” Tonks replied, shrugging as she took a sip of her firewhiskey. “Six brothers haven’t really left her with much in the way of female influence, and Hermione’s always off with Harry and Ron, she gets quite lonely, not that she’d ever admit as much out loud.”

“Evidently not that lonely if she’s cavorting around with this secret boyfriend you mentioned,” Sirius replied haughtily.

Remus and Tonks’ eyebrows rose in surprise at his uncharitable tone and Sirius took a sip of firewhiskey to burn away the faint pang of guilt surfacing within him.

“She’s not keeping him a secret,” Tonks disagreed. “She’s just protecting herself from meddling big brothers—“

“And interfering godfathers,” Remus added.

Tonks nodded in agreement. “At any rate, I don’t think they’re cavorting — which, by the way, isn’t a word anyone has used in the last century — by her own admission, she’s quite fed up with Michael.”

“Michael,” Sirius repeated brusquely. “Of course she is, how could anyone not be fed up with someone named Michael.”

Even with Sirius’ limited knowledge, it was entirely evident Harry was superior in every way that could possibly matter.

“Michael Corner?” Remus asked, ignoring this last pointed remark, his expression still perfectly, annoyingly genial. “I remember him from teaching — he seemed a perfectly pleasant young man.”

“More pleasant than Harry?” Sirius demanded, failing to see how that could possibly be true.

“Of course not,” Remus replied evenly. His eyes wandered to Tonks and they both shared a look of amusement not unlike the smirks Sirius was now used to witnessing pass between Ginny and Harry.

Sirius took note of the moment to question both Remus and Tonks about later. Separately.

“Anyway,” Remus said abruptly, tearing his eyes away from Tonks as a red flush worked its way across his cheeks. “It sounds like Harry has his sights set elsewhere.”

At the reminder, Sirius looked to Tonks expectantly. “What do you know?”

“Like I said, only what Ginny tells me.”

“Which is?” Sirius asked, schooling his features into a look of mild interest. Clearly, Tonks was enjoying holding the information over him, and he simply wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of having him beg for it.

“Just that Harry was kissing some Ravenclaw girl on the last night of term — she didn’t elaborate further, other than to say Cho’s whispering skills left a lot to be desired.”

“Cho?” Sirius directed the question at Remus.

“She’s in the year above him,” Remus replied at once. “She plays seeker for Ravenclaw — she was very popular from what I remember.”

Sirius shook his head in vehement denial. “Harry’s not going to marry a Ravenclaw.”

“He’s fifteen,” Tonks reminded him through a laugh. “I don’t think marriage is his main priority right now.”

Before Sirius could argue, a course he was quite set on taking, the door to the kitchen opened and a flash of bright red caught his eye.

Ginny re-entered first, closely followed by Harry; the two of them were deep in conversation, both of them smiling at one another in a way that, in Sirius’ opinion, proved his point for him.

He, Remus and Tonks, all fell silent, watching the young couple intently as they grabbed fresh bottles of butterbeer.

Ginny headed over to the table, eyes surveying the spread laid out upon it; Harry remained at her heels. She paused not at the food, but at a pile of glittering red and gold party hats Fred and George had laid out earlier, the ones which had caused quite a stir when the one resting jauntily on Kingsley’s head had started to sing loudly and woefully out of tune.

Ginny picked up one of the hats and beckoned Harry closer with a crooked finger. His weak attempts to refuse her obvious demand did little to deter; Ginny took a definitive step forward; Harry made no attempt to duck away as she rose up on her tiptoes and secured the eye-catching hat to the top of his head where it sparkled brilliantly in contrast with his dark hair. Upon seeing Ginny’s triumphant smile, an identical one bloomed upon Harry’s face.

Sirius was also grinning victoriously as he turned back to Remus and Tonks.

“I’m not telling you you’re right,” Remus said stubbornly, but the stiff manner in which he knocked back the remainder of his firewhiskey was confirmation enough for Sirius.

Tonks sighed, her eyes still glued to the pair, watching as Harry attempted to force a hat onto Ginny’s head and she stubbornly — and speedily — ducked out of his way.

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually,” Tonks said, a small smile appearing on her face.

Sirius nodded, unable to stop his thoughts from wandering to James and Lily and the many occasions upon which he’d been forced to watch them refuse to see what was plainly right in front of them.

He cleared his throat against the sudden emotion that swelled within, a strange mixture of longing for what had already passed and what was still yet to come. “They always do in the end.”

#hinny #harry x ginny #sirius pov #background remadora #background jily #canon compliant

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bat-mom-writer · 22 hours ago

Text

Impulses

Bruce Wayne(Husband) X Reader(Wife)

Summery: you can be very quick to act on your impulse, usually being done with a kind heart. But can sometimes lead to you and some others being hurt.

Note: Something tells me Bruce wouldn't go to therapy, but this isn't real so...

Rate: Loving Bruce, the very small almost of angst

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, tell me Bruce, are you happily married?"

"Of course."

"Then why are you here?"

"Well," Bruce pauses, thinking over his words carefully, "it's not exactly that simple."

The therapist's office was quiet, the kind of silence that felt like it was holding its breath. Bruce Wayne sat in a chair that was a little too small for his broad shoulders, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. It was a simple room, with a few plants scattered around and a faint scent of lavender in the air, but it was the last place he ever thought he'd be. He was a man who dealt with Gotham's problems from the shadows, not one who talked about his own in a well-lit space with a box of tissues within arm's reach.

"How so?" the therapist asked again, her voice gentle but firm, bringing Bruce back to the present.

He sighed. "Well, my wife… she's incredible. She's kind and she's the glue that holds our family together."

The therapist nodded, her expression neutral. "But?"

Bruce leaned back, rubbing his temples. "But she's… impulsive. She does things without considering the consequences, especially when it comes to the boys."

The therapist made a note in her pad. "Could you give me an example?"

Bruce sighed heavily, his mind racing with instances. "Once we went hiking, and she found a baby wolf, injured and alone. She insisted on bringing it back to the manor to care for it herself. Most of my sons thought it would be a great idea—until we realized it had a pack out there looking for it, and suddenly we had a bunch of very unhappy wolves on our backs."

The therapist looked up, raising an eyebrow. "I see. And how did that situation resolve?"

Bruce chuckled, a bit nervously. "Let's just say there were a lot of stitches involved. And I haven't heard anyone wanting to go camping again ever since."

The therapist's eyes widened, but she remained calm. "It seems she has a heart of gold, but maybe a bit of an overactive sense of adventure."

Bruce nodded. "Exactly. And it's not just with animals. She once tried to organize a surprise street carnival in the middle of Gotham because she thought the city needed more joy. You can imagine the chaos that ensued with all the traffic rerouting and permits she didn't bother to get."

The therapist's pen stopped mid-stroke. "Ah, so her intentions are good, but the execution could use some work."

Bruce nodded emphatically. "You have no idea. She's the love of my life, but sometimes I worry she's going to get us all into trouble. The boys look up to her, especially Dick and Damian."

The therapist leaned in slightly. "How do Dick and Damian react to her impulsive nature?"

"Dick tries to be the voice of reason, but he's young and still learning the ropes of being a responsible older brother. And Damian," Bruce sighed, "he's more like me—he's intrigued by the chaos she creates, but he's also the one who ends up getting hurt when things go awry."

The therapist nodded understandingly. "It's natural for children to look up to their parents, especially when they see the love and good intentions behind their actions. But it's also important for them to learn about boundaries and the potential consequences of impulsivity. How does your wife react when you bring this up with her?"

Bruce leaned forward, his expression a mix of affection and exasperation. "She's… well, she's stubborn. She sees the world as a place full of possibilities, and she wants to experience all of them. I get that, I do. But we can't live our lives on the edge like that, especially with the kind of enemies I've made over the years."

The therapist nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "It's a delicate balance, isn't it? Wanting to keep your family safe and also allowing them the freedom to live their lives fully. How have you been managing this?"

Bruce's smile grew a bit wistful. "Well, my wife is also the lively part of our lives. Without her, the manor would be just a fortress, not a home. She brings laughter and light to every room she enters. She's the one who convinced me to let Tim build a skateboard ramp in the garage, and even though it's a hazard to my cars, I can't help but smile when I hear them all out there, having fun."

The therapist nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "It sounds like you appreciate her spirit, but it's important to establish boundaries to ensure everyone's safety. Have you tried discussing the potential dangers with her?"

Bruce leaned back, his eyes drifting to the floor. "I've tried," he admitted. "But she's… she's like a tornado of love and enthusiasm. It's hard to say no to her."

The therapist nodded, her expression understanding. "It's clear you care deeply for her and the boys. Perhaps it's time to find a way to channel that enthusiasm into safer outlets."

"I know," Bruce said, running a hand through his hair. "But she's so… so alive. It's like trying to cage a butterfly."

The therapist nodded. "It's not about caging her, Bruce. It's about guiding her. Teaching her and the boys to weigh risks and rewards. To channel their energy into something positive without endangering themselves or others."

Bruce sat in silence, contemplating her words. He knew she was right, but it was easier said than done when it came to his vibrant wife. Her zest for life was both infectious and overwhelming at times. He thought back to the street carnival she had organized. The look of joy on the citizens' faces as they played games and ate cotton candy was something he hadn't seen in Gotham in a long time.

"There not all bad," he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. "Her impulses have led to some amazing moments, too."

"Like what?" the therapist prompted, her curiosity piqued.

Bruce's smile grew as he recalled a recent incident. "Last week, she found out about a fundraising event for an underfunded children's hospital. Without asking, she decided to host a masquerade ball at the manor. She convinced Alfred to help, and together they transformed the place into a fairy tale. The kids had the time of their lives, and we ended up raising a fortune for those kids."

The therapist returned his smile. "That does sound wonderful. It seems her spontaneity has its benefits."

Bruce nodded. "It does. But it's also a double-edged sword. I want to support her, but I also need to keep everyone safe."

The therapist leaned back in her chair. "Communication is key, Bruce. It's about expressing your concerns without squashing her spirit. Have you tried talking to her about how her impulsiveness affects you?"

Bruce sighed, his eyes reflecting the weight of his words. "I've tried, but she takes it personally. She thinks I'm trying to control her."

The therapist nodded, her expression empathetic. "It's a common misconception. Setting boundaries isn't about control; it's about care and safety. Have you framed it that way?"

Bruce furrowed his brow. "I'm not sure. I've usually approached it from the perspective of the danger it could pose to the boys."

"It's important to express your feelings," the therapist said. "Tell her how her actions affect you and why you worry. It might help her understand your perspective better."

Bruce nodded slowly, considering her advice. It was true; he hadn't shared his own fears with her, only the potential risks to the boys. Perhaps that was where he was going wrong.

"Thank you, doctor," he said, rising from his chair. "I'll think about what you've said."

The therapist stood and offered a warm smile. "Remember, Bruce, it's about balance. And sometimes, that means taking a risk to find it."

Bruce nodded, her words echoing in his mind as he left the office and stepped into the Gotham night. The city was alive with the pulse of its inhabitants, a stark contrast to the calmness he'd just left behind. His thoughts were racing, trying to find a way to bridge the gap between his need for security and his wife's boundless spirit.

As he drove back to Wayne Manor, the grandeur of the estate came into view, the gothic architecture a stark contrast to the chaos of the city beyond its gates. The manor was more than just a home; it was a bastion of hope in a city that desperately needed it. The lights were on in the windows, a warm glow that promised sanctuary from the cold outside.

When he walked in, the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. You was in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you pulled a tray out of the oven. You turned to him, your face lighting up with a smile that never failed to melt his heart. "Hi, honey! How was your day?"

Bruce took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he knew he had to have. "It was… interesting," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "How about yours?"

"Oh, you know," you replied with a shrug, placing the cookies on a rack to cool. "Just the usual—keeping the boys out of trouble, planning the next big surprise for them." you winked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Bruce felt a twinge of both fondness and dread. He knew that look all too well. It was the look you got when she had another harebrained scheme up your sleeve. He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into an embrace. "How about we talk about these surprises together from now on?"

You tilted your head back, your smile fading a bit. "What do you mean?"

Bruce took a deep breath. "I mean, I know you love surprising the boys, and I love that about you. But sometimes, your surprises have… unintended consequences. I want to be there to support you, but I also need to make sure everyone is safe."

You leaned back, looking up at him with a slightly defensive expression. "Not all of my surprises turn out bad," you said, your voice a bit softer than before.

Bruce felt his heart squeeze at the sight of you, flour smudged on your cheek and apron, looking so earnest. He gave a tight smile, trying to ease the tension. But his face was screaming, "Are you sure?"

You took a step back, "Okay, okay, maybe most of them," you conceded. "But the good ones make up for it, right?"

Bruce sighed, his arms dropping to his sides. "They do," he agreed. "But it's the potential for danger that I can't ignore. And not just for the boys, but for you too."

You rolled your eyes, brushing off the flour on your apron. "Me? I'm fine. I can handle myself."

Bruce's grip on your shoulders tightened slightly. "You know what I mean," he said, his voice serious. "How many times have you ended up in the hospital because of one of your… adventures?"

You winced, remembering the last time you had tried to rescue a cat stuck in a tree, only to end up with a broken arm and a bruised ego. "Okay, okay," you repeated, holding up your hands in surrender. "I get it. I can be a bit… much."

Bruce's expression softened, his eyes searching yours. "You're not 'much', you're amazing. I just don't want to lose you."

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling in. "I know," you said, your voice small. "But what about you? You're not much different, Bruce. Maybe even worse. You go out every night as Batman, risking your life."

He stepped back, his expression unreadable. "That's different," he said firmly. "That's for the city."

"Is it?" you asked, looking up at him with a hint of challenge in your eyes. "Or is it because you've convinced yourself that it's your duty? That you're the only one who can do it?"

Bruce's jaw tightened at your question. It was a fair point, one he'd wrestled with in the quiet moments of his life. He knew that his crusade as Batman was driven by his own fears and the need to keep the city that had taken his parents safe. But he also knew that the stakes were higher for him than they were for you.

"I've been trained for that," he said finally. "You… you have the biggest heart in the world, but sometimes you don't think about the risks."

You nodded, looking down at the cookies cooling on the rack. "I know," you murmured. "But it's just so hard to resist when I see something that could bring joy to people, especially the boys."

Bruce stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. "I know your heart's in the right place," he said. "But we can't keep playing Russian roulette with our lives, not when we have so much to lose. I don't want to lose you. Or see you get hurt. I'm just asking, please, consider the risks before you act. And come to me, talk to me, let's find a way to make this work."

You searched his eyes, the gravity of his words sinking in. You knew he wasn't trying to stifle you; he was just worried. "Okay," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "I'll try."

Bruce's expression relaxed a bit, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Thank you," he said softly. "Now, how about we sit down and talk about what's been on your mind? Maybe we can come up with some ideas together."

You nodded, swiping a strand of hair from your forehead. "Alright, I'll finish up on the cookies and then we can talk. Until then, want to help? Just to make sure I don't hurt myself?"

Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Sure," he said, taking the spatula from your hand. "Let's do this together."

As you both worked side by side in the kitchen, the tension began to ease. You chatted about the different flavors of cookies and which ones the boys would like best, while Bruce carefully placed the finished ones on a plate. The rhythm of your conversation was soothing, and it reminded him of the first time he had met you—how your laugh had filled a room and made him feel alive again.

#batman #bat family #dc universe #bat boys #batfamily #dc fandom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce x reader #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne #bruce wayne's wife #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake

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blackynsupremacy · 20 hours ago

Text

HIS LITTLE

BOOKWORM

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: it’s the year 1991. top man on campus and college senior, nicholas chavez, is finding it difficult to stay on task to study for midterms. how else could he concentrate when his growing infatuation of the newest librarian keeps getting worse?

guest starring: michael evans behling as calvin and rudy pankow as chad.

a/n: my first official smut fic, so please be kind! reblogs are highly appreciated. if you like it, should i do a part two?

contains: 18+ content mdni, lots of words, 90s au, 15 year age gap (nicholas is 22 and reader is 37) reader is divorced, swearing, mention of cheating, alcohol consumption, partying, wet dreams, sensual fantasy, sexual tension, flirting, making out, groping, fingering, oral (f! receiving), squirting, public sex (but no one can see it), masturbation, morally gray nicholas, nicholas is obsessed with reader, nicholas is a pervert, but also respects reader.

taglist: @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @thabiddie23 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @greengoblinswifey @hnch33rios @supaprettyg @xoxoglittergossip @ellethespaceunicorn @rosiestalez @sabrinasopposite @camiesully @tryingtograspctrl @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @sheydnni

nicholas chavez was used to strutting the emerald pathways of the university he attended with such an air of confidence, but this time was different. this time was fucked. it was now an air of utter frustration and instead of strutting, he was trudging down the sidewalk hard enough that creases could be forming on his new, pristine adidas sneakers. he didn’t really give a fuck though. he just needed to get to this library, meet his friend, calvin, and cram the best way he could for a good hour or two. after three years of working his ass off to maintain his full-ride, he thought it was a great idea for him to let loose more often and kick back with his friends this time around. one could diagnose nicholas with the classic case of “senioritis”, but he’d call it giving a guy a break. when it came to the topic of college parties, his parents would advise him not to overdo it, but nichloas was a grown ass man now, so he can make his grown ass decisions with some grown ass control. that’s if answering every single page from calvin that signaled an event containing available booze, joints, and pussy within a few miles was control—or, perhaps consuming so much alcohol the night before a lecture where nicholas would be rushing out of his apartment with a piercing headache that grew stronger due to the burning light of the sun as he tries to make it on time was control. it was all catching up to him now as midterms were looming in and no matter how much the cares of the world lifted off his shoulders while doing body shots off the spray tanned abdomen of a pam anderson wannabe, he knew couldn’t fuck those up.

a deep sigh of relief escapes from his chest after he finally approaches the classic, colossal structure of the academic building. nicholas steps forward and pulls the handle of the door for him to be granted access. the interior had a hardwood floor as the walls were plastered with various portraits of the college’s most notable along with some inspirational quotes from authors and historical figures. the bookshelves were arranged against the walls that held endless rows of texts that varied in every researchable area that could fit the need of each student. it wasn’t swamped, but there was a good twenty-five people who also had the same idea as nicholas. his brown eyes dart from table to table until they land on the familiar face of calvin and another mutual friend they’ve occasionally partied with named, chad. making haste, nicholas approached the table.

“it’s about time your ass showed, chavez.” calvin quipped, leaning back in the wooden chair as he twiddled a pencil between his fingers. he then leaned forward to catch nick’s hand in a casual dap, with chad following suit. nicholas sat his black jansport backpack in the empty chair beside him and proceeded to take the necessary books out after sitting down.

“cal, don’t be a dick. i’m here aren’t i?” nicholas retorts with a roll of his eyes, opening the textbook to the correct page. chad picked up on the tone of annoyance.

“woah, who pissed on your parade? sounds like someone didn’t get any sleep last night. haha—ow!” chad’s snickers were cut off with nick’s foot thrashing against his shin.

“the fuck was that for!” chad whispered as he hissed while rubbing the painful area of his leg. calvin placed a hand over his mouth to muffle his hysterical laughter while nicholas was too busy reviewing material and jotting down important notes to even care,

“just for being you, chad.” nicholas dryly replied not taking his eyes off the page. exhausted from laughter, calvin took a breath and tried to ease the tension.

“in his defense, you did go overboard with those shots last night, man. there was also the keg, and the beer pong tournament—”

“say another word or i’ll kick your balls right under this goddamn table, calvin.” nicholas calmly fired, still not looking up from the page. calvin knew nick was pissed at the use of his full name. he chuckled one last time waving the white flag to resume to his book and their table was filled with silence again. nicholas was really paying for his sins now. his hand was starting to cramp at all of the notes he was writing, he felt the fatigue was about to set in when his lids start to droop down. shit, he can’t crash now. nicholas peered at the clock ticking on the wall, even that sound at such a low volume was making this hangover worse. he groaned and plopped his head down on the table, massaging his temple in agony when he heard a voice that didn’t belong to calvin nor chad. it was of a female, but not like the typical ones that they’d mess around with. the voice was soft, but carried a weight of genuine sincerity.

“i hate to be a bother, but are you boys alright over here?”

who the hell could it be to pester him now? when nicholas lifted his head from the table to give this broad a piece of his mind for her impromptu disturbance, his hardened brown gaze immediately softened to one of captivation when he saw—you. you stood at the head of the table holding a bottle of water in your hand. you were wearing a pristine long-sleeved white button up blouse that was slightly unbuttoned by the top to at least expose the brown skin of your neck. a black velvet pencil skirt hugged around your hips perfectly as it fell right above your knees and your dark natural hair was put up in a french roll bun with a couple of loose curls falling in front of your face. there was no doubt in nicholas’ mind that you were definitely older, but damn. you looked stunning for whatever age you may be. speaking of your face, nicholas found himself to be transfixed by your smooth brown skin. you had warm coffee eyes, your lashes fluttered beneath your black rectangular glasses, and your lined full lips were painted with clear gloss. he was so deep in his observation of your—everything, nicholas didn’t notice how tongue tied he was and that calvin had to be the one to speak on his behalf,

“uh-um, yeah! he’s just a little y’know—” he stammered.

“hungover?” you whisper, finishing his sentence as you leaned in closer to nicholas to further inspect his condition. while reading at your desk, you caught a glimpse of the three young men at the table a few feet from you. they did the usual banter of ripping into each other before resuming their studies until you noticed that the brunette suddenly plopped his face down to the table. you knew it all too well and you had the proper solution, so you made your way over to check in and possibly be of assistance.

“uh, yeah. i guess you could say that.” calvin responded surprised by your straightforwardness.

“mm-hm. i understand! i actually got a table filled with water, coffee, and snacks in that room over there in the corner for midterms week.” you pause and point in the direction of the room in which he and chad peer over. “i get how stressful this time could be, so please help yourselves to whatever you’d like. maybe your friend could use some water.”

calvin and chad’s eyes glimmered at the mention of free food while nicholas still sat there looking like a hypnotized fool that hasn’t uttered a word since your arrival. he’s never frozen like this in the presence of any woman before and here you were, chatting it up with his sleazy ass friends. chad sung his praises as he was already starving,

“gee, thanks! that’s really dope of you ms.—”

“just y/n is fine. i’m actually the new head librarian for the university! i’ve started about two weeks ago.” you mentioned gesturing to the general area that was filled with roaming students. “and you’re very welcome, hun! this is all just a way to make sure students have what they need to be successful.”

“well, can i just say that it was definitely a pleasure to meet you? maybe i need to come here more often.” calvin flashed his signature charming grin, his eyes briefly raking your figure. a tad awkward under his gaze, you knew it was time to get back to work. you give a court nod towards the trio,

“well—it was great to meet you! enjoy the snacks and good luck on your exams.”

the temperature of nicholas’ face rises as his cheeks glow with the shade of a faded rose when he sees your lips form into a smile at calvin’s compliment. this strange emotion he was feeling grew more intense when you gently placed your palm on nicholas’ shoulder. the water bottle that was in your other hand was now placed beside of his textbook. he could’ve sworn that the closer you leaned into him, he could surely peek down into your shirt to see your breasts. a smile of reassurance graces your face and you considerably speak in a low volume,

“if you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask, dear. i hope this helps. god knows, it’s helped me!” you joke, sending him a wink and bade the group to continue with their work before going off to do some organizing of inventory. the trio’s eyes are pulled into the subtle sway of your hips, heads were tilted to get a proper view of the outline of your ass when you saunter in the opposite direction, your sleek black heels accentuate the calf muscles of your smooth, brown legs. as soon as you disappear from their view, chad and calvin let out a low whistle, giving each other some daps.

“man, let me tell you something. it’s like living in a porno, she’s the hottest librarian i’ve ever seen!” calvin commented, his fingers stroking his groomed facial hair as he bit his lip at the thought of you. chad leaned back in his chair with his hands ruffling in his dirty blonde hair to stop them from going down in his jeans.

“you said it, dude. i don’t give a fuck how old she is, i’d knock the absolute dust off that pu—”

“would you guys stop?”

at their words, nicholas had finally came back to reality. they were absolutely right. you were fine as fuck. utterly fuckable by any means necessary, but there was something else about you that was more than making nicholas’ dick twitch. you didn’t know him from a can of paint and here you were like an angel, providing him with a solution after seeing him on the brink of passing out while his “friends” just sat there and shrugged it off as another hangover. it was, but nicholas wasn’t usually at the top of his game and it would only get worse if he didn’t get his shit together. it was just a simple gesture, but your concerned gaze paired with an understanding smile made him feel—warm. yet, he’d still want to bend you over one of these tables and hike up that skirt to see what you were working with of course. he’d never tell those goons at his table that though. it didn’t help that nicholas was getting pissed that they were talking about you like were one of those skanks at the parties they attended on campus. you just gave them a warm welcome and this is how they repay you? he had to put a stop to this.

“god, you guys are pigs. that’s probably somebody’s wife—or mom.” nicholas aggressively chided, his harsh gaze had returned. the guys send nicholas an appalled stare of confusion. their brows quirk at this new defensive attitude, nicholas was usually a bit cranky during a hangover, but now it looked like as if they were going to get their asses kicked because of casual dirty talk that they always engaged in.

“the hell is your problem, man? i got a good look at her and i sure as shit didn’t see a ring. plus, we were just complimenting the broad. don’t get so pissy.” chad protested leaning forward to his original position.

“yeah, she’s hot. weren’t you checking her out too? you were like a deer in headlights. you couldn’t even fucking talk to her, man.” calvin stated and gestured to the water that still sat untouched in front of nicholas, “don’t forget to sober up when you actually talk to your new girlfriend.” nicholas silently responded with his middle finger to the air. with a peeved chuckle, calvin tapped chad on the shoulder for them to take a break from the conversation and get a snack from the table in the room you’ve mentioned earlier.

when finally alone, nicholas’ eyes darted around the building in an attempt to seek you out, just to thank you for the water obviously. it was the least he could do after demonstrating such an embarrassing first impression. he couldn’t find you while sitting, so he took a few gulps of water and stood from his chair with a new wave of energy surging through his body. he wasn’t a hundred percent himself, but he was definitely better than he was ten minutes earlier. you could be anywhere in here, but nicholas was willing to take a chance to see you again when he conducted his search. it takes a few minutes as he travels shelf by shelf until he pauses to find you between two bookshelves, you were a couple feet away from him as you were squatting down sorting through the titles. nicholas stealthily leaned against the shelf, his eyes catching the skirt hike further up your closed knees the more you moved. god, how he wanted to see what was underneath. you had a concentrated furrowed gaze as you meticulously read the print, your finger pushed your glasses up on the bridge of your nose whenever you felt them slide down.

it amazed nicholas that you were still oblivious to his presence for the past three minutes. he could tell that you were into the literature you were organizing, his mind wandered to what type of books you’ve read. would you be into non-fiction, like history and science? classic literature? perhaps, greek tragedy? romance? he’d figure chicks of any age liked that kind of mushy shit. he inspected your hands, notably the left that had a bare ring finger. chad was correct, you weren’t tied down at all. before his internal interrogation of you could continue, it was all broken when he heard your voice.

“oh, hello there, again!” you enthusiastically greet, your voice soft and inviting. “is there anything i can help you with?” you inquired, halting your task. you dust your hands and stand up right to smooth down your skirt. he stopped leaning when you stepped closer. he didn’t want to seem so informal. with his hands buried in his pockets, he managed to get a word out without trying to sound like a bumbling idiot,

“uh, no, ma’am. i just—wanted to thank you for the water. it actually really helped ‘cause i wasn’t feeling too hot back there. it was cool for you to do that, so thanks.” nicholas spoke with a nervous, yet amicable tone. he tries not to blush under your benevolent gaze before he continues,

“i know i was zoned out, but you said your name was y/n, right? well, i’m nicholas. nicholas chavez. it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he held out his hand for yours to grasp, it was a tad smaller compared to his. as your earth toned fingers wrapped around his palm, his mind began to wander how they would look sunken deep within your—

“ah, yes, nicholas! i believe i’ve heard of you at my first staff meeting not too long ago. you hold an outstanding record here at the college. from what i’ve heard, you’re an exemplary student that’s on his way to a bright future. that’s surely impressive.”

holy shit, it was like every interaction with you caused a switch between his dick and his heart. it was terrifyingly exhilarating. you’d just saw him in the most embarrassing moment and yet, you didn’t scold nor judge him like any other uppity professor. you were impressed. with a humble demeanor, he thanked you for your praises even though a rush of arousal was bubbling from the inside. alas, nicholas needed to focus on getting these midterms out of the way before he starts to loose that grown-ass control he claimed he had. he couldn’t fuck up knowing that he was held to such a high standard, even higher now that you were in the know. he didn’t want to, but he had to go back to work.

“i appreciate it! um, i apologize if i put you off by not saying anything earlier. it’s so embarrassing—”

you shook your head, putting a hand up to wave it, indicating to him that it was the least of your worries.

“i’ve been there, done that. college isn’t easy and you want to make the most of it before it’s over. you’re a senior, right?” you pause, awaiting an answer, in which he nods. “then you’re okay! as long as you’re properly balancing between work and play, i think you’ll be fine.”

“all work and no play makes nick a dull boy.” he quotes, with a smirk spreading across his face. you can’t help, but to chuckle in agreement at his charm. this definitely wasn’t the groggy young man you encountered at that table. it was refreshing to see him get a sense of his spirit back.

“quoting howell. i see you don’t play about hitting those books.” you pause and look back at the unfinished task behind you before shifting your attention back to nicholas, who never took his eyes off you for a second, “speaking of, i suggest i’d better get back to work. i don’t want to keep you from studying and your friends. as i said, if you need anything, you know where to find me!”

with a nod and a wave of goodbye, you go your separate ways, but with each passing day, you’d find each other in every corner of your lives. after class, nicholas would find himself in the library more often not only for a quieter place to study, but to see what you were up to. you were obviously working, but he loved to see you in your element. nicholas doesn’t know why he came in to study for another midterm after class because he was bound to get distracted by you again. while you were reading on your break, you indulged in a cherry lollipop. nicholas attentively watched from his table as you let the sugared delicacy swirl around in your mouth, humming a whitney houston tune before you pop it out and twirl it between your fingers. it made nicholas go crazy seeing the subtle shine from your saliva on the candy. he could only imagine what your lips would feel like on any part of his skin, specifically on his own lips or where he would want you the most. when he didn’t come in to study, he’d ease his way in under the guise of volunteering to help you around the place. when he offered, you were overjoyed because let’s face it, this job was a lot to handle, so there was no harm in having someone as strapping as him do the heavy lifting. he did more than that. almost everyday, he’d come in to help you organize inventory, tidy up shelves, and help students find books. while doing so, he’d make small talk in effort to get to know you. he’d inquire about where you were from, what college you went to, your interests, and your pet peeves. then his questions would start to get personal. you two sorting were through books late one night when it began,

“y/n, i have a question for you. please, don’t think me rude, though.” he asked, breaking the silence.

“go for it, nicholas.” you shrug, looking over a title.

“um, okay. how do i ask this—you don’t have to answer, but how old are you?”

you stop and peer over your glasses at nicholas, giving him a pointed look. he stood casually with his arms crossed.

“y’know it’s impolite to ask a woman her age, right?” at that response, he threw his hands up in surrender.

“i know. m’sorry it’s just— you don’t seem so stuck up like the other staff here. you’re so chill and welcoming compared to them.” he stopped to see you still had the same neutral expression. “y’know what forget it. i shouldn’t have—” he rambles before you cut him off.

“i’m thirty-seven.” you state loud enough for only both of you to hear, fully turning your body to his.

“really?” he questioned tilting his head.

“yes, i am. you seemed surprised.”

“respectfully, you could’ve fooled me—i never would’ve guessed that.”

“i appreciate the flattery, nicholas, but in the past, i would’ve been old enough to be your babysitter.” you chuckle and turn away from him again. you didn’t see his eyes move down to your ass then back up at your head, but his response had you internally floored,

“heh, yeah. my hot babysitter.”

your felt the familiar heat rush through your body. from that point on, nicholas had only gotten bolder. he was even kind enough to go on a coffee run for you when he noticed you were running on empty one day.

“oh, nicholas, you’re a godsend! thank you so much. for this, i should give you the rest of the day off.” you say taking the cup with a smile of gratitude. nicholas felt that same rush as your fingers brushed against his while passing the cup.

“of course! anything for you.” he replied, meaning every single word. “i always found it polite to help women in need.” he paused, not taking his intense gaze away from you murmuring, “especially the beautiful ones.” before you could respond to that comment, he was already off helping a couple of freshman find what they need. maybe nicholas was just being polite, so you didn’t dwell on it that much. just like you didn’t dwell on when you were trying to reach for a book and his tall figure suddenly loomed over yours. he was so close that if you’d step back one centimeter, your back would collide with his chest. your eyes spectated as his muscular arm reached for the exact title you were grabbing for and he deliberately brought it down in front of you to take.

“is this what you’re looking for?” he whispered, your heart raced as a pool of arousal started to form between your legs. you swallow, getting your thoughts together,

“yes, that’s the one. thank you, nicholas.”

“your pleasure’s all mine.”

“excuse me?” you inquired, making sure you weren’t hearing things.

“i said the pleasure’s all mine.” he left again with a smirk playing on his face as you stood there flabbergasted and flustered as all get out.

nicholas wouldn’t just see you around in the library though, on the week after midterms, he was walking with calvin to the campus gym for a workout, but then stopped when he heard what sounded like your voice. nicholas could hear your laughter in the distance.

who the fuck could that be making you laugh so hard?

“hey, i’ll catch up with you in a bit, cal, ‘needa check on something.” nicholas tapped a confused calvin’s arm, indicating to go on before he jogged into that direction. he found you at the college’s main café, sitting at an outside table conversing with who seemed to be one of nicholas’ professors, dr. bradley emerson. nicholas respected him as an educator because he saw him as a mentor who pushed him to his full potential, but now that respect turned to disgust as he watched the man gaze at you with such enthrallment and scooted in closer proximity as if he didn’t have a wife with twins at home. what a fucking bastard. oh, but who could blame him? it didn’t help that you looked breathtakingly beautiful today. nicholas thought you always did, but you looked different. your body was adorned with a long sleeved, chartreuse green collared polo paired with a dark brown pencil skirt and matching platform heels. instead of your usual french roll bun, your natural hair flowed down in the bounciest of curls. he was a goner when you flashed your award winning smile then proceeded to remove your glasses to reveal your heavenly aged face. that’s it. nicholas had to make the decision of approaching you the best way he could before staking his claim on you. he had to get you alone. he needed you all to himself. no fucking wandering eyes from his stupid ass friends nor his perving professors, just him.

this burning desire he had for you was starting to get the best of him at home. after his workout with calvin, nicholas sped back to his apartment to shower. you were back on his mind again, so he needed privacy. he wastes no time to enter into his abode and discard of his sweaty clothes before escaping into the steamy mist of his shower. as the water cascaded down his body, he closed his eyes. nothing, but your face invaded his thoughts. he wandered back to how you always read in your free time, he could imagine you reading a filthy erotica. with each word you read, you’d grow more needy as you let your thighs spread. nicholas grabbed ahold of his hardened dick, his palm stroking back and forth with the vision of your hand sliding down your nude body. he groaned at the thought of your fingers fondling and squeezing the smooth, melanated mounds of your breasts. your fingers would be pinching at your sensitive hershey kiss nipples. the strokes of his hand gain in speed while envisioning your hand finally going down to where he always wanted to be: the sweet, slick tunnel of your pussy. nicholas’ thumb circles around his swollen, pink tip as you’d start by caressing your clit in deliberation with light pressure the more you read. one finger would easily slip in, moving in and out effortlessly causing you to whimper. his hand grips harder on the shaft, hoping it would be his name. nicholas knew that one of your fingers wouldn’t be enough. hell, not even two nor three. you needed more. you deserved more. you deserved him.

right when you would become undone, nicholas convulsed and placed his free hand against the wall as he came within his palm. he could vividly see you ride out your high, the book would fall straight out of your hand with a hard thud to the floor as you try to regain consciousness from the overwhelming pleasure. nicholas caught his steady pattern of breathing and quickly, but throughly washed himself clean. he couldn’t wait anymore. he needed to feel you. he had to see that vision come to fruition. tonight.

it was now nine p.m., two hours before your shift came to an end. within the last couple of hours, nicholas had devised the perfect plan to sweep in and seduce you. after a clean shower, he brushed his teeth and spritzed his skin with the calvin klein obsession cologne he’d been saving up for. he wore a tight fitted white tank under a navy blue flannel with light washed blue jeans, and his new adidas. he didn’t forget top it off with his golden cross chain. he managed for his brown hair to naturally fall against his head, but he wasn’t worried about it too much because he wanted you to mess it up tonight. with one last glance at the clock, he retrieved his keys and made his way the place where he could always find you.

when nicholas entered the library, it was basically empty. the silence was filled with the familiar click of your heels and his feet didn’t fail into leading him exactly to where you were. he saw you as his little bookworm. there you sat reading in the hidden corner against a bookshelf, your heels off of your feet with your bare legs straight out crossed over the floor. yet again, he found your obliviousness endearing as you didn’t hear him approach and sit next to you until the intoxicating smell of obsession filled your nostrils. you looked over to see nicholas sitting at your side with his knees up to his chest, his elbows rested on top with his hands hanging loose. you jolted a bit and a sigh of relief escaped your lips,

“oh! nicholas, it’s just you. i’m surprised you’re here on a friday night.” you comment, removing your glasses to rub any sleep out of your eye. “so what brings you by? i know it’s definitely not academics.” you tiredly giggle. it’s been a long day for you and you just wanted some alone time reading your new favorite romance novel. this book in particular had a bit of—spice to it. just as you were getting to the part of the female lead receiving oral from her lover, you couldn’t say that you weren’t in a period of longing since your divorce. one thing you didn’t miss about your ex was his inability to go down south when you wanted him to. the erotic passage was getting good until nicholas popped in. you weren’t exactly mad at his arrival, but the thought of him finding out that you, a woman of your age, was reading this at her job would be humiliating to say the least.

“i guess you could say that i’m full of surprises.” he paused, taking a hand through his hair before fixing his eyes onto your face, then to the novel in your hand. “i just wanted to see how my favorite bookworm was doing—whatcha’ got there?” his finger pointed to the book. you hastily placed your bookmark in the page before closing it.

“oh, it’s just a silly little romance novel. it’s cheesy, really.” you respond dismissively not missing the smirk play upon nicholas’ lips.

“cheesy, eh? when i came in, it looked to me that you couldn’t take your eyes off the page. you were so—invested. was i interrupting something?” he inquired, scooting in a little closer to get a proper glimpse of the cover. god, his cologne was damn near intoxicating.

“n-no, no! of course not, i’m always glad to have you around, nicholas.” you reassured to ease the tension.

“oh, really? thanks. the feeling’s mutual.” he confessed, his voice soft as he placed his hand on the novel which was the only barrier between the contact of your skin.

you couldn’t help, but to feel that tingle rise at the mention of the nickname he gave you. his favorite bookworm. so many lines had been crossed with nicholas and you had to resist the temptation before you could lose this job, but there was something about him that made you feel a youthful thrill. it was something new, something fresh. you weren’t a dummy: nicholas chavez was obviously attracted to you. the signs were all there. the flirtatious comments, the close proximity, his lingering gaze on areas such as your lips, chest, and ass. this young man could have any other girl his age wrapped around his finger, but he’s intentionally pursuing you, someone fifteen years older. you’d be a liar if you denied your attraction for him. he was tall, muscular, polite, intelligent, and boyishly handsome. sigh, if it only nicholas was like this in ‘seventy-six, you’d bag him instead of your shitty excuse of an ex–husband. what’s also ironic, was that he cheated on you with someone a decade younger. thinking about his infidelity had you hotter than a firecracker, but then again, with the way that nicholas was looking at you like a predator about to pounce, maybe this was fate’s way of finally getting your payback.

fuck it. whatever game nicholas intended to play with you tonight, you were all for it.

“mind if i take a look at what was so important?” nicholas asked, his hand still on the book in your lap. now, it was your turn to smirk.

“from one avid reader to another, be my guest.” you slyly retort, sliding the book into his large hands. he deeply chuckles when he turns to the page you’ve marked, right at the beginning of the passionate exchange between the main characters. you watch his dark brow arch as his brown eyes skim through each paragraph by the second. you notice the bob of his adam’s apple and the hum vibrating in his chest momentarily before he closes the book and sets it down by his side. he huffs out a breath with a whistle.

“i guess i was interrupting something.” he quips, turning his intense gaze back to your heated profile, scooting closer than before. “i never pinned you for reading something so—raunchy.”

“mm-hm. that’s my secret and you also got to read it before i did.” you pause. your eyes maintaining contact, trapping your pouty lip between your teeth. “it’s a shame i couldn’t experience that chapter privately.”

nicholas leaned in to the point that your noses were almost touching.

“i’m sorry i spoiled it for you.” his gaze shifts between your eyes and awaiting lips. “how about i make it up by giving you that experience?”

you didn’t say another word, your fingers delicately caress the tanned skin of his jaw before you finally close the gap between your lips. nicholas wastes no time in fervently returning the kiss. his large hand slides up to your grasp on your neck to pull you closer. you whimpered out at the contact, resulting in nicholas to slide his tongue against yours. as they engaged in a dance, your hands found themselves messing through his chocolate tresses as his hands took a grip of your waist to effortlessly place you on his lap. he bucked his hips up towards your own, so that you could get a feel of his own arousal. you both groaned out due to the burning sensation before he pulled away from your lips to attack your neck as his hands descend to reward your ass with a tight squeeze.

“mmph, nicholas. please, i—i need you!”

your wish was his command. still with a firm grip on your ass, he gingerly places you down on your spine. nicholas’ eyes observed as your curls were sprawled on the floor with your bare half-lidded eyes glued to his face in desire. your now swollen, glossed lips were agape as you laid there with your legs spread wide awaiting for his next move. he could just cum at the sight alone. as much as he wanted to go all the way with you, he acknowledged that for the first of hopefully many times, you deserved better than being fucked on a floor, but he was going to fulfill his promise after spoiling your reading.

“as much as i want to, i won’t fuck you because that’s not what was in the book, baby.” nicholas halted his speech and slid his hands to hike up your skirt to reveal your baby blue lace underwear that had a damp spot right in the middle. he was drunk with the scent of your arousal. “god, you’re soaked—i promise m’gonna make you feel good.” his palms caressed circles on your inner thighs. you whined, the pulsing ache within your pussy grew stronger the longer you didn’t feel his touch.

“i know, baby, i know, but whining won’t get you what you want. you gotta use your words. you want this?”

such a goddamn tease this man was, but it was so exhilarating seeing him in control like this.

“yes! yes, nicholas. fuck, i don’t want this. i need this. i need you—ngh!” before you knew it, your panties had been ripped. nicholas’ middle and index work in tandem, curling at your walls while his thumb made circles around your clit. nicholas was giving you the business like no other. you were a moaning mess and you were so glad no one came in at this time because it would’ve been a disaster, but that was the least of your worries when his fingers conducted a scissoring motion.

“you’re so tight. how’s that, baby? am i doing it just like the book or do i really need to make it up to you?” he questions over the soft sounds of squelching in the background, you struggle to speak as your hips start to buck up against his fingers.

“n-need y-your tongue. p-please, nicholas!”

he slid his fingers out of you, his free hand holds your head in place to watch him suck your arousal clean off. he hummed in satisfaction once he popped them from his mouth.

“fuck, you’re so right. i need to taste you. right fucking now.” he lowered his head between your legs, propping each one over his shoulders. you throw head back as his tongue laid flat against your clit in a long lick to savor the taste of your slick before his tongue moves like clockwork. your heels dig deeper within his broad shoulder blades while his tongue practically fucks you into an oblivion. if only your ex could see you now: getting it on with someone who was younger, hotter, and more appreciative of your presence. a wide toothy smile of satisfaction is etched on your face while your fingers grip onto his hair.

“mm, nick, baby. just like that…hah. such a good boy.”

that praise alone made him more relentless. nicholas’ hands pressed onto your thighs to spread them wider as he began to enclose his lips around the sensitive nub. he was giving it extra attention, so you could achieve the best fucking orgasm of your life. he was going to guarantee you weren’t going to runaway from it either, so he pressed your hips flat to the ground. with every suck, lick, and nibble he was giving, the hot ball of fiery pleasure within your abdomen began to expand. it was starting to be so much to handle because you can’t remember having it this good. your eyes peer down to see the dark, mischievous glint of nicholas’ eyes looking straight into yours.

“nicholas, hah. m’gonna cum…” you murmur, gently pushing his hair back.

with a quirk of his brow he raised his mouth briefly from your pussy,

“give me all you got, sweetheart.”

nicholas rasped, he then achieves the goal by digging his tongue inside while his thumb made rapid movements on your clit. within seconds, that lethal combination is what forces your legs to tremble as you finally erupt into your high, which gushes right onto nicholas’ face. you speech is slurred, mixed with swears, praises, and his name. his movements never slow down as he’s trying to catch every single drop. the experience was so intense, that you dazed out while catching your breath. as if it were like c.p.r., he comes out from between your legs and raises you upright to bring your lips together for another passionate kiss. his tongue brushes against yours, so that you could have what he’s been tasting. it was—sweet. sweet like the victory of getting your payback. your moment of internal gloating ceased when you heard nicholas’ voice.

“fuck, babe. look.”

“hm?” you questioned.

you match his gaze down to the hardwood floor to see a small puddle of what was obviously from your arousal. nicholas let out a chuckle of satisfaction.

“my little bookworm’s a squirter—hot.”

the heat of embarrassment rose on your face. you knew you felt the sensation of squirting, but damn it, now you had a mess to clean before continuing your weekend. still, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

you got your groove back.

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troglobite · 2 days ago

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(i agree w op and it's a good point; i'm pushing back against a couple things in this second addition/rb & some implications in the op, as well. still not trying to be argumentative, but push the conversation further & challenge certain entrenched ideas. bc again, i agree & am coming from that angle.)

hotter take: the demonization of "ultraprocessed foods" is damaging no matter what. highly recommend this nutritionist for any info abt that. if [general, not op/rb] you won't listen to me, maybe [general] you will listen to a thin and licensed nutritionist.

the intent here is good: don't deprive your child of unifying and delightful social experiences. let them enjoy food. don't give them complexes about food. don't micromanage your child's diet to the point where they resent it, etc.

but also, maybe, just let them enjoy food. and teach/show them how! they are CHILDREN. unless they have allergies, sensitivities, or other serious health concerns, they will be FINE if they eat some candy MOST days of the week for various stretches of time. or ANYTHING sweet. or salty. basically every person in the world (with medical exceptions, exceptions for taste/preference, etc.) would be fine having at least 1 dessert every day. (and also this is only using "health" as a reference, which is a Whole Thing in and of itself)

maybe, also, as is the solution to most things: simply treat children like people who are just learning how things work.

instead of limiting what they eat without their involvement, instead of demonizing food and scaring them away from it or shaming them, or even acting like certain kinds of diets are even accessible to most people, how about we instead:

teach kids abt what we currently know abt how food works. why do they crave sugar and salt? why do these foods taste really good, and these ones don't? can we make them taste better? sometimes tastes change over time, so every few years we can try this food again, if you're up for it. how do you feel after you eat A LOT of food, regardless of what it is? what do you want to eat at different times? how do different foods make you feel? what kinds of tastes do you like? here are traditional and culturally relevant foods, and how/why they're important. how do we MAKE food? what abt food safety?

give them knowledge and choice in what they eat and how they eat it and when.

this is only possible if we education ourselves abt food, as well! which is why education around this is so important. but even the basics: hunger is this, food gives you energy, you need different kinds of energy, you probably should have a wide variety of it, etc.

for example, there is no such thing as junk food, there's just food. nutrition isn't just about calories or vitamins, etc., it's also abt social connection (covered well in this post), cultural connection, and emotional regulation.

it also looks different for everybody. no two people will require the same kinds of food in the same amounts prepared in the same ways. and what we know about nutrition is actually quite limited! not to say what we have is Completely Wrong, but that it's silly to paint with such a broad brush when we keep having to research and revise--and there are so many factors to health and diet that are difficult to account for, and make each person's needs individual. food & movement aren't the only two. and your socioeconomic status & geographic location control what you eat way more than anything else.

"ultraprocessed food" serves so many purposes: it lasts longer, it's typically more reliable and widely available, it's generally more affordable, and it's, crucially, more consistent and predictable, which is a HUGE thing for children (not even speaking of neurodivergent people in general). for ppl who can't afford the money or time of fresh foods, "ultra processed foods" are GREAT. (and they're also great for anyone who loves them)

if you have a problem with them, take it up with the government! we can have "ultra processed foods" that don't hurt people--it's the hormone disruptors and unnecessary food dyes that are the problem. they're outlawed elsewhere. we could follow their lead. preservation of foods isn't inherently bad. (and on the labor side, again, take it up with the govt: all workers deserve to be safe at work, protected, have a more than livable wage, benefits, etc.)

all of this is an overarching pipe dream about how we talk abt, teach abt, and interact with food, particularly as it pertains to raising our kids. but that's the point i'm going for here.

op is completely right, as is the addition; my hackles rise against "more wholesome foods" and "ultra processed foods" and the "let them have it every once in a while". you can go a month eating "junk" food (again, no such thing), and unless you have particular allergies or health concerns, you'll probably be fine.

determinants of health are so much bigger than what we eat and what we physically do.

so when it comes to teaching kids about food, we have to stop categorizing some foods as bad and others as good. it seems to be easier, but oversimplifying things for kids never goes well. if you're gonna simplify, at least be accurate and at least don't give them fucked up complexes abt shit.

tree nuts are WIDELY considered a Good Food. but they hurt me and could possibly even kill me, because i'm allergic.

fresh greens are WIDELY considered a Good Food. but they're raw, uncooked, and staring down the barrel of fewer safety regulations--so not only are they inconsistent in quality and texture (bad for kids & anyone with sensitive tastes), but they're also riskier. and ALSO, i have hEDS, and my body Cannot Digest fresh greens very well. (if accessible, an opportunity to teach kids abt where food comes from and maybe grow your own! but also [stares at heavy metals in most of the US soil] so y'know. ymmv.)

they're no better or worse than an "ultra processed" version of greens. that includes things like salsa, flavored veggie smoothies, premade soups, frozen veggies, etc.

the sum of my response to op & addition is: yes, absolutely. but also, there are no bad or good foods, and nutrition is more complicated than that. as per uszh, the solution is to treat kids like people and give them what knowledge you can, then let them make their own choices.

and the sum of everything else is: basically what i wish more people knew so that they COULD teach their kids that stuff. and also for themselves! and also this doesn't even get into the concept of "health" as a Whole Fucking Thing.

This is a controversial take that everyone will hate but it's one thing to feed your kid better, more wholesome food than twinkies and hot pockets daily, it's another thing to force them to adhere to a crunchy granola beige colored diet where they cant share the snacks their peers are eating or have a normal childhood or have fun. None of you were raised like that and if you were you know what im talking about.

#long post #ranting #not angry at anyone or calling anyone out i agree w almost entirety of the post & addition here #but demonization and categorization of food and the implications around health and weight stigma?#unfortunately get me on my soapbox #i am now stepping off of it #food forts #diet talk #nutrition

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usomads · 2 days ago

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Celoso // Damian Priest x Reader

Author’s Note -> Hellooo everyone, I had planned to put this out earlier in the day but something happened and it threw me pretty bad, but I still wanted to deliver. As always, happy readinggg!

Plot -> He doesn't want to see you with anyone else but him...

Pairings -> Damian Priest x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Friends to Lovers, Cursing, Jealous!Damian (Dom Mention lol), Choking, Spanking, Hickies, Oral Sex (M!Receiving, F! Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.0k

“Hey, Y/N, I gotta talk with production real quick… you alright to wait here for a second?” Damian had brought you backstage for an episode of Raw in Brooklyn, which mostly meant you were following him around all night, but it was so cool to be in his world for the night and see your childhood best friend live his dream, becoming one of the biggest stars on the brand in the process.

“Of course, Dames, I’ll be here!” He flashed you a smile and walked off with someone, leaving you to fend for yourself for the time being. You pulled out your phone and scrolled through socials, making sure to respond to some messages from family and friends. X always provided you with some entertainment, especially on the wrestling side of the app, so you scrolled through some of the Damian fan accounts, liking some tweets here and there.

“Y/N! Is that you?” You snap your head up to find Dominik Mysterio, who was making his way over to you. Now, you weren’t gonna lie, after you met him last year when Damian was still in The Judgement Day you had developed a little bit of a crush on him. He was for sure attractive, but he was so laid back as well and you loved that. You didn’t dare tell Damian though, he’s been weird with crushes you had since you were kids, and after all you just thought Dom was cute- it’s not like it’d ever go anywhere.

“Dom, hey! How have you been,” you extended your arms out and wrapped them around his waist for a hug, staying there for a few moments before backing away.

“I’m good, I’m good! I didn’t know you were in town tonight, it’s great to see you!”

“Dom… I live here, of course I’m in town,” you chuckled as he blushed, forgetting you were a Brooklyn native.

“Oh, yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, “well hey! I’m staying here an extra day, I’ve got some press stuff to do but afterwards I was thinking we could go get some drinks? It’d be nice to spend some time with you, catch up for a bit…” he trailed off, giving you his trademark smirk letting you know he’s (most likely) up to no good. It was your turn to blush now, looking up at him as he scanned you from head to toe.

“Um… yeah, I think I’m free tomorrow. I’ll just give you my number so you can text me when you’re done with your interviews and such. There’s this place I know near my apartment, they’ve got really good drinks and some decent food in case we get hungry. I’ll send it to you,” you smiled, taking his phone from his hand and inputting your number before handing it back to him, your hands brushing as you exchanged the phone. That simple touch sent a shock through your body as you looked up at him, sensing he felt the same thing.

“Sounds good, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he walked backwards, still looking at you and whispered, “te ves bien esta noche, ángel1.” You blushed again at his words while he winked at you and walked off. You leaned back against the wall, sighing contently at the exchange, and noticed Damian standing to the side looking… upset? Sensing his foul mood, you made your way over to him.

“Hey, there you are! Everything okay? Did the meeting go well?” He nodded, still staring off into the distance as you waved your hand in his face. “Earth to Damian, you sure you’re good?”

“Yeah. m’fine, What’d he want?” He signaled to Dom, who was walking down the hallway.

“Oh, nothing super important, he just asked if I was free tomorrow to get drinks so I gave him my number so we could meet up. Haven’t seen him in like a year, so it’ll be fun to catch up,” The smile on your face dwindled as you noticed Damian seemed to be getting more and more irritated the more you brought Dom up.

“Sucio…”

“Huh?” You thought you heard him mutter something under his breath.

“Nothing, let’s get outta here. You ready?” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you both out of the arena and to his car to head to your place, watching him closely as he drove. The arena wasn’t too far from your apartment, so you and Damian were able to get there and get settled in pretty quickly. The two of you were seated on your couch, beers in hand as you two talked about the night.

“Amor, don’t get me wrong, Dom’s my brother… but he’s a player. Seriously, that whole ‘Dirty Dom’ thing you see is real. I just don’t want you to get hurt, ‘cuz then I’d have to kick his ass forreal.”

“Dames, c’mon, it’s not even like that. We’re just catching up, that’s it.”

“You sure about that? Y/N, please don’t be stupid, he was basically fucking you with his eyes…” you smacked his arm gently, cutting him off.

“Hey! Chill, he wasn't, he's just… friendlier than most, I guess. And besides, is it really a bad thing if it is a date?” Damian’s entire demeanor shifted. “I mean, I haven’t gone out with a guy in over a year… maybe it’s time to do something about that? I’ve been pretty lonely, Damian, I don’t exactly have you around all the time…”

“What, and you think Dom can help you with that?”

“Well, I-” he cuts you off, his deep voice getting more and more intense with every second.

“You think Dom can keep you company better than I could? Treat you better than I could? Love you better than I could?” You furrow your brows at him, confused as to why he’s making this all such a big deal.

“Jesus, Dame, you act like you’d be losing me if I were with Dom. Newsflash, you wouldn’t, so why the fuck are you freaking out on me right now?” Damian sighed, setting his beer down and rubbing his temples in frustration.

“Y/N, you just don’t get it…”

“Well then make me understand, Damian. You’re sitting here mad at me because Dom asked me to go get drinks and I just don’t get it. You’re supposed to be happy for me, I’m finally putting myself out there again and as my best frie-”

“It’s just that, Y/N, I don’t want to be your friend anymore, okay? He estado enamorado de ti desde que éramos niños.2 All these years, I’ve waited and waited but I’m tired of waiting, Y/N, I want you. More than anything in this world,” he paused to watch your reaction, as you sat shocked. All this time, he’s been in love with me?

“The thought of you going out with Dom, being with him, letting him touch you? It makes me sick, mi amor, because it should be me. It should be me touching you…” he pushes a stray hair behind your ear, “loving you…” his fingers dance along your jaw and cup your cheek, “tell me you feel it too, please, I know you do.”

“D-Dames, I-,” you stutter out, still trying to wrap your head around the whole thing. Damian sighs, removing his hand from your face and distancing himself, placing his hands on his knees before standing himself up.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I understand…” he trailed off. “I think it might be best if I head home, give us both some time to think about things. I’ll see you later.” Damian heads towards the door, head down as he drags himself to leave. You realize you’re about to let the best thing to ever happen to you walk out, so you stand up and run over to him, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to turn him around. Your hands grab his face and pull him down to meet your lips, his hands wrapping around your waist instinctively. You pull away from him, hands still on his face and looking into his eyes. “Dames, I’ve always loved you, I just never thought you did too.” You confessed, blushing as you did so, “but I promised Dom I’d go out for drinks with him. I can’t just cancel on him, we’re fr-”

“Still thinking about Dom…” Damian closes the distance between you too, bodies dangerously close, “Baby, you won’t be able to remember his name after I’m done with you… only name that’s gonna be coming from those pretty little lips of yours,” his lips hovered over your own as he growled, “is mine.” He crashes his lips into yours, snaking his hands up your torso and removing your shirt before removing his own. The kiss was intoxicating, your mind feeling fuzzy as you wrapped your arms around his neck and walking the two of you backwards. Your back hits the wall with a soft thud, making you gasp which allows Damian’s tongue to slip inside and assert its power over you. His fingers trailed along your sides and wove themselves into the waistline of your pants, tugging on the clothing to undo the button. You reached your hands down between you, allowing him to step back as you removed your bottoms and tossed them to the side.

“Fuck, Y/N, tu cuerpo es una obra de arte. C’mere.” Damian pulls you to him and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you effortlessly to your bedroom. You giggled, playfully kicking your feet and trying to ‘get away’ but Damian’s grip on you remained firm as he placed a smack to your ass making you bury your head in his shoulder as he rubbed the smooth skin and walked you to the foot of your bed. He laid you down before taking his jeans off and climbing on the bed with you, pulling you on top of him and pulling you back in for another kiss. You were straddling him, your hips grinding against him. He hissed against your lips, feeling your wet pussy soak through your panties and onto his growing bulge. The movement of your hips was driving him wild, but more wild were his imaginations of you sinking down on his cock and moving your hips like that while he was buried inside you. He would hold onto that thought, flipping you two over and targeting the sensitive skin on your neck. He bit and sucked the flesh hard, drawing bruises to the surface without a doubt. The intensity in which he worked on you had you spiraling- your mind was hazy and the soft moans being elicited from your mouth were beginning to grow louder. He continued his descent downwards, being sure to kiss, bruise, and nip at your breasts and sternum as he traveled downward. His face was finally level with where you craved him most, and luckily for you he was in no mood for games. He took the delicate material of your panties in his hands and ripped them, the cloth now coming off with ease as your pussy clenched at the sight. He chuckled, admiring your pussy and watching it pulse in ways he knew only he could make it do.

“Oh, baby, she’s so ready for me already,” he brings his right hand to your folds and collects your juices on his fingers, placing them in his mouth and moaning at your taste. “So fuckin’ sweet for me too. Pretty pussy knows who her Papi is, doesn’t she?” You moan at his words, whining as he teases you with his fingers. “Whose pussy is this, nena?”

“Y-yours, it’s yours…” you moaned but Damian, not satisfied, delivers a gentle smack to the front of your pussy, making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure, rubbing you to ease the sting from his hand. “You must’ve misunderstood.. I said… whose pussy is this, baby?” He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs circles, your back arching at his motions. “Mmm, fuck, it-it’s yours, Papi. All yours. Please…” you whimper. “So much better, baby,” he groans and lowers his head, allowing your thighs to wrap around it as his tongue and fingers conduct you to your orgasm like a symphony. The torturous pace of his tongue compared to the pace of his fingers was sending you completely over the edge, your body shaking as he coaxed you to cumming on his fingers. He cleaned you with his mouth, savoring your taste on his tongue as he brought himself back to your level. You kissed him passionately, tasting yourself on his lips and moaning into his mouth. You flipped the two of you over to straddle him again as you kissed down his chest, desperately wanting to return the favor. You bring yourself level to the bulge aching in his boxers that desperately wants release and lace your fingers in the waistband, pulling them down. His cock springs free and rests against his lower stomach, bigger than anyone else you’ve been with. You gasp at the sight. “Y-you’re s-so big..” you mumble, keeping your eyes glued to his length. He chuckled, cupping your face and bringing you to look up at him.

“You like what you see? Hmm?” You nod, biting your bottom lip and taking him in your hand. You pump him slowly, spitting on his dick and teasing the tip with light sucks. He grips your hair and pulls down while you look up at him, lifting your chin and letting your mouth fall open. “Papi don’t like you teasin’ me like this, pretty girl,” he groaned at the sight of you before him, so desperate for him. “M’gonna have to fuck that outta you, you understand?”

“Y-yes, Papi,” you whispered. He winks at you as he slides his cock into your open mouth, your lips tightening around him as he thrusts himself into your throat. He sits up, getting leverage before tightening the grip on your hair and fucking your throat with no mercy. He moans your name loudly, eyes glazed over watching as a trail of saliva dribbles down your chin as your eyes water from his work on your throat. He slows down, pulling out of your mouth as his hand grips his length.

“Mmm, come sit on this dick, princesa.” You crawl up to him and swing your leg over to straddle him, wrapping your fingers around him and rubbing his tip along your entrance. Damian’s hands settle at your waist as you rub yourself on him, before sinking down on his cock. You both throw your heads back in pleasure and moan as he slowly bottoms out inside you. You grind your hips on him, your clit brushing on his pelvic bone, and you whimper his name. Your slow grinds pick up as you lose yourself in the feeling of Damian filling you that you grab hold of the headboard and fuck yourself on his dick. Sounds of your ass slapping against his thighs fill the room as you chase your orgasm, as Damian pulls you down to him and wraps his arms around you while thrusting into you from below you. Your moans turn to screams as you bite down on his shoulder, trying hard not to completely fall apart on him.

“F-fuckkk, Dames. M’so close.. I’m gonna-” Before you finish your thought he throws you off of him, pulling you to your hands and knees before roughly slamming into you from behind. He delivers harsh slaps to your ass as he fucks you mercilessly.

“You think Dom can make you feel this good?” He grabs a fistful of your hair as you moan for him, arching your back and allowing him to go deeper. “You think he can touch you like I can? Dime, cariño, could Dom fuck you this good?” He grabs you by the neck now, lightly squeezing as he pulls you flush against his chest and continues to pound into you from behind. “Answer Papi like a good girl,” he growled in your ear.

“Oh fuckkk, no no no. Only you, Papi. I’m all yours, Dames. Only you can make me- oh my god, I’m so close… please, Papi, please let me cum…” you begged for him, pleading for your release as Damian continued to drill into you.

“Shiiiiit, fuck Y/N- go ahead, baby. Cum all over Papi’s dick.” And with his words your orgasm comes crashing down on you, you shake in his arms as you release all over his cock, moaning Damian’s name over and over as you come down. Damian follows suit, pumping his cum deep inside your pussy and moaning your name into your neck, planting kisses along your neck and shoulder. He pulls out of you, collapsing next to you and opening his arms for you to rest your head on his chest.

Damian was woken up by the sound of a phone ringing. He blinked his eyes open, seeing you were in a deep and peaceful sleep. You were not waking up. He realizes it’s your phone so he picks it up to turn it off, but sees the caller ID and stops. Dom.

He slides his thumb across to answer the call. “Hey, Y/N! I wanted to let you know I’m done wi-”

“Oye, Y/N’s not going out tonight, está ocupada conmigo… oh, and Dom,” he paused, glancing over at you and watching you sleep soundly beside him, “borra su número antes de que tengamos un problema.” Damian hangs up before Dom can speak, setting your phone to the side and cuddling into you once more before falling back asleep himself.

#damian priest #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #damian priest x reader #smut #damian priest smut

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kedreeva · 19 hours ago

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There are good things in this world still

Today, I harvested a bundle of parsley from my garden. Alongside of the strawberries, it is the last thing still growing green, despite the cold. I only harvested around the outer edge, from the stalks that were starting to droop, and trimming those off revealed a wealth of fresh stalks that will now have room to grow before winter truly sets in. I planted parsley this year because I have been making stock from my use fowl carcasses, and wanted to try to grow some of the ingredients here myself. I also planted some garlic bulbs and carrot tops, which may or may not have ultimately taken- I knew I wouldn't get either from them this year or anything, but if the plants could take root in the soil, then maybe next year I won't have to buy (as much) garlic or carrots for stock making. Potatoes and onions are next. You might wonder how much stock one person uses, but Sark makes a lot of rice dishes he uses stock for, and I make soups, stews, and sometimes even add a cube while cooking pasta for extra flavor. It's small, it's just a few little plants that had a hell of a time getting started this summer, but holding a thick bundle of stalks in my hand and knowing I've taken one step closer to growing some of my own food needs feels great.

There are good things left in the world, however big or small. This is your invitation to reblog this and share your good things with each other, or check the notes if you need a reminder.

As an addendum today, if you are feeling like you don't have good things to share, consider making some good things for yourself tomorrow (or today, if there's still time!)- take a bath and use the favorite soap scent or bath bomb or whatever you've been saving for a special occasion, eat a treat or make a favorite meal, clean something you've been putting off, call or message or meet up with a friend you haven't seen in a bit to regain that community connection, snuggle your pet or loved one, look up photos of your favorite interest (animals, technology, architecture, travel destination, whatever it is!), watch a favorite movie you haven't seen in a while, take a walk around a park or community attraction, visit the library and see if there are clubs or meetings or events you may want to attend or just pull a book off the shelf and read for a bit. There are good things, there are still so many good things, you just have to reach out and touch them to remember they are there.

#good things #one day at a time #Today is Day 17 #There are 1504 days left #I've started scheduling these posts so I won't miss a day again

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simplyzeeka · 2 days ago

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Ruffian

Part.1

Summary: Ryan has been living a lonely life on her farm for a decade now. With no family to seek company from, she developed a routine with just her and her animals, something that soothed her loneliness. Until her happiness came back a little earlier than expected.

Warnings: MDNI!!! Cussing, chaotic animals, oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, p in v(no protection), face sitting if you squint. They just missed each other y'all 😔

A/n: So, uhmm. This was supposed to be straight fluff, nothing nasty at all. But sometimes, characters have a mind of their own.

5k+

Ryan always believed life in the countryside was much more peaceful. Although she hasn't even licked the city streets, she hears enough to have a clear and unbiased opinion about it. But that did not mean that the countryside did not have its chaos. “Daisy… Daisy! Come back here girl, where you goin’?”

And most of this chaos came from her small little farm, especially her Great Dane. If it weren't her chickens causing a ruckus, her sheep and goats were raining ditsy havoc. Her only peace came from her Friesian stallion, Ferris, always chewing on a bunch of hay in his stable away from the blasting heat.

Despite all this, Ryan loved her little farm. It was a place with many stories. Tragic and happy alike. She inherited the small plot from her grandmother who raised her into the woman she was, her parents having moved to the city since she was young as a way to send money back into the farm.

Ryan shook her head at her dog’s antics before turning back to the task before her. “Okay, Ro. We’re all done girl, you get some rest.” She spoke quietly to her cow, applying a post-dipping solution on each teat when the spotted animal did not have any more milk to give. Ryan took off her gloves and offered the cow a batch of hay, then left the stable after checking on Ro’s calf.

It was a rather long day, helping a cow give birth was the least of her expectations, luckily her grandmother had always prepared Ryan for such a situation. She carried the bucket of colostrum filled milk that would be used to feed the calf, but stopped to check on her Stallion. “What’s up big guy? Your water still good?” Ryan checked the stable for any irregularities.

Once satisfied she left the stable, securing the lash before a smooth velvet voice caught her attention. “That sissy still standin’? Thought he woulda been long dead.”

Ryan whipped her head behind her, there occupying the entrance of the shed. Worn out timbs and a pair of denim jeans that matched in condition. White wife beaters and a denim jacket over his shoulder, his signature silver chain hanging around his neck. Terrence Richmond was still as handsome as he was all those years ago.

“You lyin’ to me.” Ryan shook her head, eyes blinking slowly, there was no way he stood in front of her currently. It was too early, he wasn't supposed to be back until a few weeks. See, Ryan knew that she should stop smoking the pre-rolls that Willow always brought, they tended to leave her more paranoid than relaxed.

The smile he let out from her quiet whisper was enough to spark a flamelet to her, he really was here. Years and years of being separated and finally, he was in front of her. , “I’m right here, baby.” He dropped the bags in his hand and opened his arms.

It took a while for Ryan to react, rendered speechless just by the mere fact that he was here… with her and near her. Next thing one step turned into two, then three before she was spriniting in his direction. Ryan wasted no time locking her body around his, legs around his waist and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Terry held her even tighter, his hands gripping at her thighs so he could hold her up. A soft scent of cinnamon and peaches invaded his nose so delicately that he brushed his nose against her neck to inhale more of the sweet scent.

“I thought you was gon’ be out in a few weeks. I aint even prepare nothin’ for you, coulda held a party or somet-.”

Terry didn't allow her to finish, “Ry baby, I dont need a party. This is good, this is perfect.” Terry protested, honestly so because there was no better way than for him to celebrate his return than with his fiancé.

Ryan held his face, a small pinch between her brows as she inspected his face. “I coulda bought you somethin’ nice at least.”

Terry laughed, knowing that Ryan always wanted nothing more than to please. Her heart plummeted at the sound, she missed it… thought she'd never hear it again, but Terry had a way of always coming back to her. “God, I missed you, like a fish outta water.”

Their noses nudged as she spoke, until the distance between their lips became a little too much to bear and Terry pressed their lips together. He swallowed the sound of her content sigh, felt her relax as she leisurely responded.

The small flame in her heart spread to the rest of her body, little embers flicking off her body when his hands grabbed at her supple flesh intentionally.

Ryan grew into her womanhood, everything about her screamed ‘grown’ and Terry loved every moment of that realisation. Ten years… he hasn't seen his woman for ten years, didn't watch her grow and grow with her. But he had time to spare now, and he would be damned if he didn't spend it on Ryan.

It took being placed on a block of hay and Terry stepping between her legs that made her push him away gently. “Mmm wait baby, we can't. Ro just calved.” She explained breathlessly while playing with the charm on his chain.

“Ro? As in little Ro?” Terry asked shocked, “She getting down and busy?” Ryan rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder with a laugh. “Ro ain't so little no more. And, she been gettin’ down and busy. This her third baby.”

Terry immediately moved his body away from Ryan, running her fingers through his short curls. “Somebody got my baby pregnant?” He frowned at the declaration, no longer in the mood to get acquainted with Ryan’s body. This was big.

Ryan huffed at his Oscar winning antics. “Terry, please. She damn near eleven years old, and also a cow. Breedin’ is what they do.” She explained, not that she thought they had to, he knew what it was when he bought Ro. “Yeah, but not my Ro.”

Ryan cackled at that, he never failed to treat all the livestock on this farm like children… except her horse of course. She couldn't blame him, Terry and Ryan bought Ro off a cow breeder before he left for the military. They were only twenty years old, freshly engaged and had a dream to grow a farm together… their farm. Ro was their first cow, a big accomplishment because cows were expensive as hell.

“Okay, Soldier. Calm down.” Ryan got up from the hay and walked over to Terry. “How bout you help me carry the milk to the kitchen?” She suggested, pointing at the half full bucket of milk behind him.

Reluctantly, Terry obliged, he picked up the bucket and followed Ryan to the kitchen. She did some work to the small area, it looked different from the last time he saw it.

“You recolored?” He asked, placed the bucket on the floor before looking around. It smelled like freshly baked cookies, which didn't surprise Terry, he knew how much Ryan loved to bake.

“Mhm, got tired of the grey.” Ryan grabbed the bucket of milk and poured it in baby bottles for the calf when it woke up, she had fed it a while before it went into a deep sleep.

Terry couldn't help but to watch her, like really watch her. Her face, her hair, her skin. Everything about her. Dressed in a plain shirt, the front of it tied in a knot, showing a bit of her stomach. Flared jeans that hugged her thighs enticingly. As always, Ryan wore a low cut, stetson hat on her head, she wouldn't leave the house without one on.

She looked good, damn good and Terry found himself unable to keep composure again. A few tentative steps was all it took until he was behind her. His hands placed on her hips while his fingers dig into her belt loops as to pull her hips into his.

Ryan let out a soft laugh when she felt tickling kisses behind her ear travelling to her neck. He smelled like he always did. Honey and a hint of musk. “I'm tryna concentrate, Terrence.” Ryan began, not detering from her task, just as stubborn as Terry was on his because he didn't let up on her. “You can do this later. Come on, Ry. I miss you.”

Ryan shook her head, this was important, the baby needed their milk. “And I got you later. Gon’ make you dinner and everythin’.” She turned to face him, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers playing with the little curls on the nape of his neck.

Terry sighed and looked down at her. She was so pretty. Her cheeks softly filled out, cheekbones lifting as she smiled. He bit his lower lip to stop himself from letting out a soft grunt of frustration, how was he supposed to hold off when she looked this good.

“Alright, I'ma hold you to that.” He nodded, sending a small smack to her ass and a kiss to her plump lips. “Anything you need me to help with?”

“Can you check on Ro?” Terry nodded in agreement, pecking her lips one more time before retreating from the kitchen, “Yes ma'am.”

Time passed slowly, that when evening rolled in, Ryan was already spent from her day. She made sure that Ro and her calf were settled in for sleeping as all her other babies. As usual, her chickens gave her more of a run around, but Terry helped put them in their coop.

She had just finished with dinner, opted for a bit of a full plate as Terry's first proper meal since being back.

He was currently in the shower washing the day away while she got the table ready. She had Janet Jackson playing in the background, something she always did to decompress from a busy day of farm work.

“Terry! Come on now. The food gettin’ cold.” She called out, impatiently seated, waiting for him so they could eat.

“I'm here, I'm here.” He rushed down the stairs. His heavy steps creaked on loose floorboards. He marvelled at the effort that Ryan put into making such a vast dinner for him. Terry couldn't remember the last time he's had a proper meal straight out the pot.

“Smells good baby.” He complimented, landing a peck on her cheek before he took a seat in front of her. “Looks good too.”

Ryan smiled in appreciation, “Thank you, baby.” She did a little jiggle at the compliment, causing Terry to laugh endearingly. “Alright, let's eat. I'm hungrier than a tic on a teddy bear.”

And at that they dug in. Ryan and Terry caught up with everything they have missed together. Ten years, and Ryan still couldn't help but feel like a giddy school kid around Terry. He always had that effect on her, and something told her that he always would.

Terry ate like a man starved and Ryan used this time he was distracted to admire him. He gained muscle… a lot of muscle. While he wasn't necessarily a man of small stature, Terry came back with his clothes stretched out. She eyed his prominent veins pop out everytime he flexed his arm even the slightest.

He trimmed his beard out and kept his goatee. It was a small change, but a nice one. She remembered constantly calling him ‘patchy’ back when he was trying to fully grow it but it wouldn't grow the way he liked it.

Once dinner was done, Terry offered to wash the dishes since Ryan cooked. “You go get the bed ready, pretty. I'ma be up there in a few.”

Ryan nodded and her small feet pattered up the stairs to her bedroom. She made sure to turn the ceiling fan on, the heat making her a little irritated. “Hotter than satan’s crack.” She mumbled lowly, naive to the presence in the room.

“Wouldn't be feeling so hot if you got out those jeans.” Terry commented from behind her, arms wrapping around her torso. “You tryna get me out my clothes, Mr. Richmond?” She turned to face him, hands rested against his ripple chest.

Terry playfully shook his head, nudging his nose against hers. “Nah, I wouldn't dare, Mrs. Richmond.”

Fuck she loved that, she couldn't wait until she could become that formally. Ryan landed a kiss on his lips, missed that. Missed kissing him so much, touching him and loving him.

The kiss picked up pace. While Terry had always been an impatient man, the time they have spent apart left him with an insatiable hunger. Ryan breathed him in, cupping his lower jaw as to pull away slightly for some air. Terry chased her lips, not giving a damn about breathing with Ryan this close in his proximity.

They crashed together again, then stumbled everywhere in the room. Terry tapped her thigh twice, before he rested his hands on the underside of her thighs and picked her up with ease, and on the bed he laid Ryan gently.

Her hands fumbled with her belt buckle, not wanting to waste anymore time talking and laughing. She wanted him, in every way he came to her.

Terry took over, gently removing her hands and undid the buckle himself, except he took his time. Once the leather was gone, he unbuttoned her jeans with his teeth, sliding them down her thick thighs along with the orange lace panties that he wished he had taken the time to appreciate on her.

Ryan was breathing heavily, watching as Terry kissed on her exposed stomach. He was serenading her with his lips, silently telling her how much he missed her.

The pillows of his lips moved from her stomach, down to her pelvis. He kissed the visible scar on the soft skin, one she got when she tried shaving without any guidance for the first time.

By the feel of his lips moving lower, Ryan was too anticipated to let him do what he wanted. She wasn't in the mood for foreplay.

“Terry, I don't need that now.” She whispered as she rested on her elbows, looking down at the earthiness of his eyes. Fuck him for being so beautiful.

“Hm? What you need then?”

Ryan shook her head, she knew what he wanted. He wanted her to explicitly tell him what she wanted. But how could she so boldly tell him that she wanted to be stuffed with his dick.

“Closed mouths don't get fed, baby. Gotta let me know what you want so I can give it to you.”

“I can't, T.” She reasoned softly.

“Yes you can, I know you can. You know why? Cause you're my baby, and my baby listens.”

Ryan sighed heavily, unable to understand why he couldn't just fuck her and call it a night. Now he was bringing all this Military obedience bullshit to her at the worst of times. It frustrated her.

“Terry, come on. Please.”

He noted her frustration, sighed in disappointment before he stood to his full height. “Okay baby.”

“We'll fix that some other time.”

And she knew that was a promise he was going to keep. Ryan smiled in relief, gasped suddenly when he kissed her feverishly.

This kiss was sloppy. They nipped at each other's lips before Ryan granted him access into her mouth.

And inevitably, allowed entrance into her leaking folds as well.

It wasn't just his muscles that grew, his dick seemed to have gained an extra pound as well because it laid heavy inside her, stretching her out that she knew nobody would ever be able to fill his space, not that she wanted anybody to.

Ryan struggled to take it, regardless of the face that he was going slow, she still couldn't take it. The mushroom of her tip brushed carelessly at the soft tissue of her spot at every thrust, it had her recoiling backwards everytime he pulled out.

“Don't piss me off, Ryan. You wanted this right?” Terry gritted out, his grip on her hips tight as she rolled his hips up into her yet again. Slow, deep strokes. Just as she liked. “Hm? Answer me, baby.”

Her pussy was gold. Always has been, always will be. Ryan had no right to grip at him like that and expect him to let her run. You couldn't offer somebody candy and expect them not to indulge, it was inhumane, at least to Terry it was.

He had her holding her legs, presenting herself to him so she could watch where their hips met without obstruction. Ryan's essence pooled around her thighs and Terry's, leaked out everytime he pulled out the piping heat of her pussy to where his tip is all that stayed, before he dove his heavy dick back inside her so he could kiss her insides.

“Fuck. Y-yes I did.” Ryan managed to respond, her brows drawn together, her eyes too stuck on where they connected. Watched as rings of cream coasted the thick base of his dick. “Fat fuckin’ dick. Oh my… yess.” She whispered softly, throwing her head back, her grip on her thighs tightened ever so oftenly.

“And you love me, hmm baby? You love me don't you?”

“Yes yes yes yesss. Love you so much. Oh my God.” Ryan looked up at him with teary eyes.

“So don't run from what you love baby, don't run from me. Take this dick, there you go, girl. Pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

He fucked like a grown man now too. Before he left, Terry and Ryan had good sex, she wouldn't dispute that. But it never felt like this, he definitely missed her, and he sure as fuck was showing her just how much.

“So deep, so fuckin’ deep, T. Just like that.”

“Yeah? In your stomach baby?” Terry watched where his dick poked out on her stomach. But Ryan shook her head dumbly, he felt way beyond that. “In my- shittt. In my heart.”

“In your heart?” Terry laughed, the sound causing Ryan's walls to pulsate around as they clenched. That drew a hiss out of Terry before he continued. “Dick got you talkin’ dumb baby.”

Ryan moaned at that. Fuck she liked that, she liked that a lot. It made her ooze more of her juices, down her ass and onto the bed.

“Ease up mama, let me in.” Terry groaned, struggling to dig her out the way he wanted to because she gripped at his dick so tight, sucking him in with every thrust. “Open up, Ryan. Let Daddy in.”

“Shittt.” She creamed at that. Fuck he was so sexy, so so sexy she wanted to give him children. Ryan tried to open up more, but the heaviness of his dick made it hard. He was impaling her, and he expected her to make that easier for him?

Terry wrapped her legs around his waist, leaned lower, his elbows near either side of her head. Their foreheads touched and Ryan wasted no time touching on him.

He was angled so much deeper like this, but that wasn't what had her heart pumping. The way he looked at her, while slowly pumping her full of dick had her reciting her love for him all over again.

“I love you, love you so fuckin’ much, T.” She spoke with her eyes stuck on his, hands caressing his jaw as her mouth fell open at his pace. “Fuck yesss.”

“Fuck this pussy magic. Wanna die in it, wetting me up so good. Pretty baby, you so pretty Ry. You hear me? So so pretty. Love you, till death yeah?.”

And she believed him, believed that he would die for her because Terry has shown her his love, showed her that she deserves that kind of love, and that kind of love deserved her.

“Oh my God… I'ma cum. I'm cummin’ baby.”

“I know, I feel it baby, I feel you. Let it go, cum on your dick mama.” He coached her, leaving kisses on her face as he maintained the pace of his hips. He whispered profanities and sweet everything's in her ear as Ryan squeezed around him.

“Fuck fuck fuhhh. Oh my God, I love you.” She gasped when she gushed on him heavily. Her cum leaked out of her, damn near pushing Terry out of her walls. He fucked her through it, kissing her slightly sweaty skin.

He pulled away from her, rubbing her thighs lovingly and watched as she caught her breath. “Turn over, I ain't done.” Terry sent a small smack to the side of her thighs and laughed when he heard her whine but still as obedient as ever, oblige to his command.

On her elbows and knees, Ryan spread her legs slightly, earning an appreciative hum from Terry as he gripped at her plump ass.

“Look at you.” He said, eyeing the slick that covered her heat before blowing on her swollen bud. “She missed me, hmm?” he asked no one in particular, yet still, Ryan responded with a silent “Yes, Sir.” that had Terry grabbing the base of his dick. The sound of her accent didn't make this any better.

He sent a long stripe from her clit to her pulsating hole. Sucked her bud into his mouth and gave her pussy lazy kisses that left Ryan leaking again.

Ryan gripped at the sheets in front of her. This man was insatiable, and she knew that there was a long night ahead of her, if not a few days as well. “Shit shit shit, like that. Just like that.”

He hummed against her, the vibrations creating pressure waves inside of her, amplifying the pleasure that was being sent to her brain. “Taste so fucking good, look at this shit.” Terry said and spread her lips apart, before diving back in, slipping his pink muscle inside her and exploring more of her taste.

Ryan's thighs shook, almost causing her to fall out of the position. “Keep that fucking arch, Ryan. You hear me?”

She whined in response, pinched her eyes together from the slight overstimulation.

Terry was a noisy eater, slurping and slipping. Didn't even mind moaning at her taste, occasionally praising how much she got wet, how pretty her pussy looked, how much he loved her.

Once he was done with his oral loving, he teased Ryan's entrance with his tip. Slapped it against her clit a few times before sliding it between her folds.

Once he slowly plunged into her slowly, he threw his head back and whimpered shamelessly. The sound made Ryan smile to herself, loving how he expressed himself freely in that sense.

“Fuckk, not sure if I can hold off mama.” She muttered, pulled out then plunged back in again, the sight made his dick twitch. “Can't believe I went ten years without this pussy. Never again, okay baby?”

Terry began the relentless thrusting. Pulled her hips back against him, watching the recoil of her ass in appreciation. “Never again. Gon’ die in this shit if I have to.” His bottom lip sank between his teeth, watching himself enter her with more and more cream decorating his veiny dick.

Ryan was at a loss of words, couldn't speak as tears filled her eyes. Dick couldn't be this good. She understood now why women often fought for their men, there was no way she's ever letting up on this. Terry would get fucked up for even doing something as stupid as think of getting with another woman.

Naturally, she threw her ass back on him, because she missed him. And he deserved this, deserved so much more. “Fuckkk that's it, show out mama. Take your dick, just like that. Taking me so good, it's yours ain't it?”

The sound of skin clapping and squelching could be heard in the room, accompanied by the sound of their persistent moans and whimpers. Their declarations of love and praises.

“So big, stretchin’ me so much. Fuck, let up Terry.” Ryan cried out, reached behind her to push against his stomach. Terry ignored that, instead, he just slid back in deeper. He angled his hips that made him kiss her cervix with so much pressure. Ryan opened her mouth agape and her arm fell forward to grip the sheets.

"Why you fucking me like this?" She moaned out elongated, using the leverage of her elbows to pull her hips away from him. "Cause you deserve it. You deserve this nut, baby." Terry gritted out, so concentrated at the work he was putting between her thighs, watching the mesmerising waves on her ass every time their skin slapped. "Working so hard every damn day, takin' care of the house, the farm. You don't gotta worry bout that no more though, cause Daddy's home. You hear me, Ry?" Terry angled his hip in a way that dug her out in a way that would have had her promising babies, but she held off.

All she could do was nod, grip the sheets harder. Her moans leaking out her mouth like the faucet between her legs. "Mh mh, say it. Say Daddy's home baby."

“Daddy’s home… fuckkk daddy's home. I'm bout to cum.”

“Right behind you baby, cum with me baby. Hold it just a little longer.”

Ryan tried, she tried so hard to listen but she couldn't hold it. She began squirming on him, yelling chants of ‘I love you's’.

The feel of her clenching sent Terry over the edge. “Fuck fuck fuckk, I'm cummin’.” He grunted before he spilled inside her then fucked his nut inside her.

The two gathered their breath, catching a sense of time and space while coming down their highs.

Once Terry pulled out, Ryan believed she was done. “Sit up baby.” Terry called out gently, rubbing her back gently as she moved around the bed.

Once she was sat on the bed, she was face to face-to-face with his slick covered dick. He definitely was bigger, and the sight of his cum mixed with hers had her mouth watering.

Ryan looked up at Terry, the corners of his lips lifted slightly. “You okay?” He asked for assurance to continue first, the ball was in her hands.

Ryan eagerly nodded. She wanted this, needed this even. “Clean me up then.” he ordered.

Hesitantly, she wrapped her hands around him. Even with both hands, his head still peaked out. The weight of it felt tantalising.

“Don't play around with that shit, Ry. Eat it up.”

Immediately, her lips wrap around his head, sucking gently. Her eyes met his when her tongue poked out to lick from her shaft to the base. They tasted good together, like a match made perfectly in heaven.

Ryan slid her mouth around him, sliding her lips lower as she inhaled. Her hands wrapped around what she couldn't fit into her mouth. He felt heavier on her tongue. “That's right, nice and slow. Ain't goin’ nowhere mama.” Terry watched with his lip caught between his teeth.

His brows furrowed as she took him with skill, just as he taught her all those years ago. Ryan began bobbing her head, her eyes already getting teary at the way he stretched her mouth open.

“Just like that. My baby getting me right. Take what you need.”

Ryan picked up the pace, slurping at his dick like it was her last meal, slowly easing him deeper in her throat, her nose slowly inching towards his pelvis.

“Look at you. Nasty ass, you love this dick Ryan?”

She nodded her head, hummed in response as well knowing that would drive him crazy. By now, she was damn near deep throating him, his tip kissing the back of her throat.

Ryan clenches her throat around his head which causes Terry to buck his hips forward. Ryan pulled away to get some air, breathing loudly as her hand twisted around the weight of the muscle.

She tapped the head against her tongue before sliding it back into her mouth.

Terry laughed, he wanted to be gentle, wanted to let her do her thing. But now she had him worked up, teasing him as if she wanted him to show out.

Gripping the back of her head, Terry pulled her away from him, before guiding her back towards his head.

“Breathe, baby. Breath.” He instructed, watching as Ryan nodded in understanding.

Terry slid into her mouth, watching her jaw relax as she breathed, right until her nose touched his pelvis. He heard her gag and relieved her by pulling out.

Tears adorned her eyelids, falling when she blinked up at him with spit running down her chin. “So good baby, you think you can do it?”

Ryan nodded her head. “Yeah, I can, promise. Please.”

“Mhm, ‘course you can.” He said before siding back into her mouth. “Love being slutted out, don't you mama. Mi get yuh, baby.”

The patois, fuck the patois. It wasn't often that she heard it before he left, only ever when he was angry. Then he spoke in patois, but during sex? Ryan has never heard it, and she's not sure she wanted him to stop.

Ryan hummed around his dick. He used her mouth for good measure. “You so pretty like this.” He praised as his thrusted into her mouth gently, loving the sight of her lips wrapping around him.

Ryan did a few tricks with her tongue, drawing him closer to his orgasm. “Fuckkk Ry. Fuck baby, I'm bout to nut. You gon catch it?” He asked breathlessly, brows pinched together as his grip on her head tightened.

Ryan moaned around him, her hands rested on top of his thighs. The room filled with sounds of gagging and Terry's moans.

It didn't fall unnoticed to Terry the hands that rested between Ryan's legs. She was playing with herself, smearing his nut between her fold as she rubbed leisure circles on her sensitive bud. Perhaps she liked Terry in her mouth more than she thought she did.

Terry laughed at that sight, pulled out of her mouth and heard as she gasped to take a breath. Ryan chased the head of his dick, clearly not happy with how soon it ended, he didn't even cum yet. Despite all the spit running down her chest and the tears that filled her eyes, she still wanted more.

Terry teased her, pulling her head back everytime she got close to having him back in her mouth. “Terry, come on.” She whispered desperately.

Hr knew she could get down and grimey if she wanted to. Terry knew that Ryan could fuck him to sleep if she wanted to, if only she could stop being so shy. They'd get there though, he'll make sure of it.

“It's right there baby, go head and take it.” He urged, tilting her head to see her face better. “Or you want me to give it to you?” Ryan immediately nodded her head, she liked him being rough, taking what he needed because he knew she would do nothing but give.

“You lazy as fuck Ryan. Daddy gon get you right, though.”

His hand let go of her hair, wrapped his hand around her neck instead, squeezed just enough to slow down the blood from going to her head.

Ryan felt a little lightheaded when Terry pulled her up to where she stood on her feet. Her hand wrap around his wrist, her eyes crossed eve so slightly when he squeezed tighter. “Fuck.” She whispered.

Terry pecked her lips. Once, twice, and a few more times. “You okay, baby?” He asked, releasing some tension on her neck but kept his hand there.

“Mhm, I'm fine. Thank you.” She smiled tiredly.

“Good. Cause I aint finished. Come sit on my face.”

“Terry. I'm tired, I got a lot of work tomorrow.” She shook her head incredulously. There was no way he could possible have that much energy. What water are they giving these men in the military?

“And ain't I say Daddy's home?. I'ma help with all that.” He tapped her thigh.

Ryan sighed and climbed over him on the bed, hovered over his face slightly, clearly worried about suffocating him.

“Don't play with me, Ryan. I said sit.”

Ryan rolled her eyes, happy he couldn't see her. “Sir, yes Sir.” She mumbled before lowering on his perfectly sculpted face, his eyes gazing up at her as he munched away between her thighs.

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misaerabl · 2 days ago

Text

Feeding The Fire

Academic Rival Abby X F!Reader

MINORS AND MEN DNI / word count : 8k

SUMMARY: In the elite world of Ravenswood Preparatory Academy, your rivalry with Abby Anderson has always been a blaze of ambition and sharp words. Forced to work together on a high-stakes project, the fire between you begins to shift as late-night study sessions and unguarded moments reveal the vulnerabilities behind Abby’s perfectionism. When an argument at her house exposes the weight of her relentless drive, sparks ignite into something far more intimate. What starts as a battle for dominance becomes a journey of understanding—and something else as fiery as your rivalry.

WARNINGS: Plot with smut, eating out (r & a receiving), a riding on r's face, swallowing come, fingering (r receiving)

A/N: Since you guys were looking for something like Off The Ice... found this on my google docs, I decided to finish it and post it now. This is kind of in a different format than how i usually write but here it is cuz I think its good! (this was actually written the same time as Off The Ice)

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

Ravenswood Preparatory Academy wasn’t just a school—it was a battlefield. Not in the way of physical fights or dramatic standoffs in the cafeteria, but in the quiet, cutthroat war of academics. The halls buzzed with the chatter of straight-A students, all vying for valedictorian, internships, or that one golden-lettered acceptance from the Ivy League. You were no stranger to the competition. In fact, you thrived on it.

But then, there was Abby Anderson.

Where you clawed your way to the top with late-night study sessions and sheer determination, Abby seemed to coast through effortlessly. She was the Abby Anderson—student council president, captain of the debate team, and the top of every leaderboard. She didn’t just ace her exams; she annihilated the curve, leaving you—and everyone else—in her wake.

Your rivalry wasn’t personal, at least not at first. It was just a fact of life, like the sun rising in the east or Ms. Callahan assigning an absurd amount of reading. But over time, it evolved into something more. A sideways glance during test results. A clipped comment in class discussions. A subtle smirk when one of you outdid the other.

By senior year, the rivalry had become the stuff of legend. Teachers tried to keep their distance, afraid to spark a wildfire between you. The rest of the school watched with bated breath, waiting to see who would claim the top spot once and for all.

And then, Ms. Callahan dropped the bomb.

“Your final project will be done in pairs.” Her voice carried across the room, calm and steady, as if she didn’t just upend the lives of her most competitive students.

You barely had time to react before she added the kicker: “And the partners… have been assigned.”

The tension in the room was palpable. A few students groaned, others exchanged wary glances. You sat frozen, gripping your pen as Ms. Callahan began listing names.

When she got to yours, you heard it before you saw it: the sharp intake of breath, the audible pause.

“...Anderson.”

Your head whipped around, locking eyes with Abby, whose expression mirrored your own disbelief. It wasn’t anger or annoyance—not yet, anyway. Just pure, unfiltered dread.

Ms. Callahan’s voice pulled you back to reality. “I expect great things from the two of you.”

Of course, she did. Of course, she thought pairing the two fiercest rivals in the school was a brilliant idea.

You didn’t even hear the rest of the assignments. All you could think was: This is going to be a disaster.

The Aftermath

The bell’s shrill ring echoed through the room, but you remained seated, the words “Anderson” still ringing in your ears. Your classmates filed out, some throwing you sympathetic glances, others shooting amused smirks.

“Guess it’s just you and me now,” Abby said, stopping at your desk. Her tone was light, but there was an unmistakable edge to her smirk—one that ignited the familiar spark of irritation deep in your chest.

You forced yourself to look up, meeting her gaze. “Don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you take over this project.”

Her smirk widened, like you’d just issued a challenge. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I’m sure I’ll need someone to double-check your work.”

Her words hit like a match to kindling, and you felt the fire flare. You opened your mouth to respond, but she was already walking away, her ponytail swaying with each step.

This wasn’t just a project. It was war—or so you thought.

The First Meeting

Monday after school, you found yourself heading to the library with a mix of dread and determination. Abby was already there, seated at a table with her laptop open and a cup of coffee by her side.

“Right on time,” she said, not looking up.

“Let’s skip the small talk,” you said as you sat across from her. “What’s your grand plan for making this work?”

She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing in a way that seemed both casual and calculated. “I’ve already outlined a few ideas. You can handle the visuals—I’ll take care of the research.”

You snorted. “Of course, you think you get to decide everything.”

Abby tilted her head, her smirk softening into something almost playful. “Do you ever stop arguing?”

“Do you ever stop being insufferable?” you shot back, but there was no real venom in your voice.

For a moment, the fire between you burned differently—still hot, but less about competition and more about the way her eyes lit up when she laughed softly under her breath.

Sparks Beneath the Flames

The first week of working together was a rollercoaster. Arguments about the direction of the project turned into hours-long brainstorming sessions, punctuated by Abby’s dry humor and your exasperated comebacks.

“You’re not bad at this,” she admitted one day, her tone grudging but honest.

“Wow, Abby Anderson complimented me,” you said, feigning shock. “Someone mark the date.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

As the days passed, the rivalry that had defined your relationship began to shift. It wasn’t just about outdoing each other anymore. Somewhere in the late nights at the library and the shared coffee runs, you started noticing things—like how she always brought an extra pen because you’d forgotten yours, or how her confident exterior cracked when she doubted an idea.

And then there was the way her hand brushed yours as you both reached for the same book. It was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you—like a spark catching on dry wood.

Feeding the Fire

By the second week, the lines between rivalry and something more had blurred. Your arguments had turned into playful banter, and your stolen glances lasted just a little too long.

One evening, as you sat across from Abby in the dimly lit library, you found yourself staring at her—not in frustration, but in curiosity. The way her brow furrowed when she was deep in thought, the way her lips pressed together as she scribbled notes... it was mesmerizing in a way you didn’t want to admit.

She looked up suddenly, catching your gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, charged with something new.

“What?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, looking away, but your cheeks burned like an open flame.

And that was the moment you realized the fire between you wasn’t just about rivalry anymore. It was something deeper—something you weren’t sure you were ready for but couldn’t stop feeding.

The Vulnerable Truth

You didn’t know what to expect when Abby invited you over to her house. The idea of crossing into her personal territory felt... strange, like stepping into the heart of the storm. Her place was just as polished as you’d imagined—pristine furniture, meticulously arranged decor, and an eerie quietness that seemed at odds with Abby's fiery energy.

“I’ll grab us something to drink,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Left alone, you wandered around the living room, your eyes scanning the shelves and walls. Tucked among pristine family portraits and school trophies was a photo of Abby as a little girl. She was holding a medal, grinning wide, her eyes sparkling with pride. Beside her stood a man—her father, judging by the striking resemblance. His hand rested stiffly on her shoulder, his expression as cold and composed as the room itself.

It all clicked.

“Find something interesting?” Abby’s voice broke the silence, sharp and cutting.

You turned to see her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and a guarded look on her face.

“I wasn’t snooping,” you said quickly, though you couldn’t shake the weight of what you’d just realized. “I just… saw the photo.”

Her jaw tightened. “Congratulations. You’ve cracked the case.”

“Abby, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” she snapped, stepping closer. “Didn’t mean to dig into things that aren’t your business? To play armchair psychologist?”

You hesitated, then spoke softly. “I just wondered if that’s why you push yourself so hard. Why you have to be the best.”

Her eyes flared, the fire in them unmistakable. “You don’t know anything about me.”

She turned on her heel and stormed down the hall, disappearing into what you assumed was her room.

For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure whether to follow. But then you heard the muffled thud of something hitting a wall, and your feet moved before your brain could catch up.

The Confrontation

You knocked once on her door, but when there was no response, you pushed it open. Abby was standing by her bed, her back to you, her fists clenched at her sides.

“Abby, I—”

“Why are you here?” she interrupted, her voice trembling—not with anger this time, but something far more vulnerable.

“I just wanted to help,” you said, stepping closer.

She spun around, her eyes blazing. “Help? You think you can help me? You don’t know what it’s like to have someone expect perfection from you every single second of every day.”

Her words hit like a punch, raw and unfiltered. You’d seen Abby angry before, but this was different. This was Abby exposed, stripped of the armor she always wore so effortlessly.

“You think I like this? Being the one everyone’s watching, waiting for me to slip up?” She laughed bitterly. “Well, guess what—it’s not about being the best. It’s about not being a disappointment.”

“Abby…”

Your voice was soft, almost pleading, but she was already pacing, her energy frantic. “Do you know what it’s like to see it in their eyes? The second you’re not good enough? I can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she stopped, her back to you again.

You didn’t think. You just moved, closing the space between you. “Abby, look at me.”

She turned slowly, her walls cracking further, and for the first time, you saw the weight she carried. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand brushing hers.

“I don’t care if you’re perfect,” you said, your voice steady. “I just care that you’re... you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the air between you felt electric. She looked at you, her guarded expression softening into something you couldn’t quite name.

And then she closed the distance, her lips crashing into yours.

A New Kind of Fire

The kiss was urgent, fueled by all the tension that had built between you—weeks, months, maybe even years of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Her hands gripped your shirt, pulling you closer, as if afraid to let go.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard. Abby’s forehead rested against yours, her eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, understanding, maybe both.

“I hate you,” she whispered, but there was no venom in her voice, only a shaky vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “No, you don’t.”

She huffed a laugh, the tension between you easing slightly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are,” you murmured, your thumb grazing her cheek.

For the first time, the fire between you didn’t burn—it warmed.

The Fire Between You

The air in Abby's room felt heavier, charged with something that neither of you could deny anymore. The soft hum of the outside world seemed miles away, and all that mattered was the space between you and Abby, the heat that radiated from her touch as she pulled you back in.

Her hands gripped your waist with a desperation that matched the fierce hunger in her kiss, her lips pressing against yours with a sense of urgency, as though she was trying to make up for lost time. The tension from earlier—the unspoken words, the anger, the vulnerability—had all bled away, replaced by something far more consuming.

You melted into her, your hands finding their way to her shoulders, to her hair, tugging her closer. There was nothing delicate about this kiss. It was messy, raw, a clash of need and emotion. Abby’s body was warm against yours, her breath shallow as she deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, never letting go.

Her arms wrapped tighter around your waist, her fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt as if she was afraid to lose you in this moment. You could feel her heartbeat, fast and erratic, mirroring your own, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like a battle. The competition, the rivalry—it all faded, and what was left was just the two of you, tangled up in each other.

When she finally broke away, both of you were gasping for air, your lips swollen from the intensity of it. Abby's eyes were wild, her pupils blown wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.

"God," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would be like this."

You could barely form words, your mind racing from everything that just happened. "Neither did I."

But there was no going back now. Not when the fire between you had been lit, not when everything that had once seemed like a fight now felt like something else entirely.

Abby ran her fingers through her hair, her breath shaky. "I—I don’t know how to do this," she admitted, her voice laced with hesitation. "I’ve never... with anyone... not like this."

You reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "You don’t have to have all the answers, Abby. I don’t either."

She met your gaze, the uncertainty still flickering in her eyes, but something else too. "Are we... are we really doing this?" she asked, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

You leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss across her forehead, a silent answer to her question. "Yeah. I think we are."

And as you held her, her body pressed against yours, you both realized that maybe the fire that had always burned between you wasn't meant to destroy—it was meant to light something new. Something neither of you had expected but both of you desperately needed.

The Fire Ignites

Abby’s hands slipped underneath your shirt, her touch warm against your skin. A mischievous glint flashed in Abby's eye as her hand slid under your shirt, savoring the feel of your heated skin. She traced her fingertips teasingly along your stomach, feeling them tense under her touch.

Her hands reached around your back, finding the hook of your bra with expert ease. She unhooked it slowly, her eyes locked onto yours, daring you to pull away. As the bra fell open, she slid her hands around to your front, gently pushing the fabric aside to feel your bare skin.

As the bra slipped away, Abby's hands cupped your breasts, her thumbs lightly brushing over your nipples. A soft gasp escaped her lips, feeling them harden beneath her touch. Your body arched instinctively into her hands, craving more contact.

A few moments ago, you had uncovered a vulnerable side of Abby, the reason behind her fierce drive. Now, everything had shifted—she was kissing you with a desperate intensity, her hands pulling you closer, touching you in ways you would've never thought would happen between you two, as if she couldn’t get enough. The heat between you escalated, your bodies pressed together, skin meeting skin, the air thick with desire.

With deft fingers, Abby started unbuttoning your uniform blouse, her knuckles lightly grazing your skin with each button she undid. Your breath caught in your throat as she pushed the blouse off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

You stood before her in just your skirt and underwear, feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable. "You look so pretty in your uniform,”

You blushed deeply at the compliment, your heart racing in your chest. Abby reached out and gently traced a finger along the waistband of your skirt, her touch sending shivers down your spine. "I've always loved this uniform on you," she murmured, her voice low and husky.

"You do?" Normally, you prided yourself on keeping your cool, always ready with a witty comeback—especially when it came to Abby. But right now, in this heated moment, your usual confidence slipped away. Your mind felt scrambled, and all you could focus on was the sensation of her close to you, leaving you dizzy and lost in the moment.

“You're so beautiful," she whispered, her words. Her voice was a breathy whisper, full of longing. She reached out and gently pulled the skirt aside, revealing your matching panties. Abby's eyes lingered on the delicate fabric before looking back up at your face. "So beautiful”

Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, your eyes darting between Abby's face and her hands. You bit your lower lip, your breathing growing faster as she slowly began to trace patterns on your thighs, her touch light and teasing. You squirmed slightly, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

Abby's touch ventured higher, her fingertips brushing against the edge of your underwear. She looked up at you, her blue eyes filled with a fiery intensity. "Can I?" she asked, her voice barely audible. Her fingers hooked into the elastic band of your underwear, waiting for your response.

You nodded almost imperceptibly, your heart pounding in your chest. Abby slowly pulled your underwear down, letting them pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, feeling completely bare before her. She stood up and gently pushed you onto her bed, kneeling between your legs. "You're so perfect,”

Abby slowly leaned in, pressing her lips to your inner thigh. She kissed and nibbled her way up, her touch gentle yet firm. Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping the bed tightly as anticipation built up inside you. When she finally reached your center, she paused and looked up at you.

With a smoldering gaze fixed upon you, Abby leaned in slowly, her warm breath tickling your most sensitive spot before she finally made contact. A surge of electricity coursed through your body as her tongue found its mark, your hips instinctively lifting off the bed sheets.

Abby wrapped her arms around your thighs to keep you in place, her pace slow and deliberate. She looked up at you again, her eyes filled with desire as she continued to lavish attention on you. Your hands flew to her hair, fingers tangling in the silky strands as your breathing grew heavier.

You couldn't hold back a moan as Abby's tongue danced around your sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your body shook, your legs trembling as she worked her magic. "Abby, oh god, Abby," you whimpered, your voice strained with pleasure. "I'm…”

Her arms tightened around your thighs as she felt you nearing the edge. She quickened her pace, her touch becoming more insistent. Your back arched off the couch, your fingers gripping her hair tightly as you shattered, your voice echoing through the room as you cried out her name. "Abby!”

Abby continued her attentions as you rode out your high, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back onto the bed, your chest heaving. She placed a final kiss on your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, a satisfied smirk on her face.

Still caught in the throes of ecstasy, you could only manage a breathless giggle, your body tingling all over. You reached up, cupping Abby's face in your hands and pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.

As you kissed her, you gently pushed her back, breaking the kiss. You looked up at her, your eyes shining with desire. "Now it's my turn," you said softly, reaching out to grasp the hem of her shirt. "I want you to strip for me, Abby. Slowly.”

As you broke the kiss, you looked up at Abby and whispered, "Strip for me." Your voice was husky from pleasure, your eyes dark with desire. Abby's smirk grew wider as she stood up, slowly reaching for the hem of her shirt. "With pleasure,”

Abby pulled her shirt up and over her head, revealing her toned midsection and the bra barely containing her beautiful breasts. She tossed the shirt aside, her eyes never leaving yours. Her hands moved to her pants, unbuttoning them teasingly slow.

Abby shimmied out of her jeans, kicking them away as they pooled around her ankles. She stood before you in just her bra and panties, a sultry smile playing on her lips. Reaching behind her back, she unhooked her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her breasts.

“You look so good Abby…”

Abby's smile grew wider as she heard your praise, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, slowly sliding them down her legs. As she stepped out of them, she kicked them aside, standing before you completely naked.

With a mischievous grin, you patted your chest and said, "Come here, I want a taste." Abby's eyes glinted with amusement as she climbed back onto the couch, straddling your chest.

Abby slowly positioned herself over your face, her thighs on either side of your head. She lowered herself until her most intimate area was hovering just above your mouth. Your hands instinctively went to her hips as she gazed down at you with a look of pure lust. "Go ahead”

You eagerly buried your face between her thighs, your arms wrapping around her thighs to pull her closer. Your tongue explored her soft, wet folds, tasting her sweet nectar. Abby let out a low moan, her head falling back as she grinded against your face. "That's it…”

In that moment, all you wanted was to make her feel good—wanted to be the one to lift her up, even if only for a while. As Abby was on top of you, every thought, every worry, faded away. You weren’t thinking about rivalry or perfection anymore. It was just about her—about giving her something real, something she might not have allowed herself to feel in a long time.

Abby's hands gripped the sheets as you worked your magic with your tongue. Her hips undulated in a sensual rhythm, riding your face with increasing urgency. Soft gasps and moans spilled from her lips, her eyes fluttering closed in bliss. "Don't stop…”

Your dedication to pleasing her was unwavering, and it showed in the way you devoured her pussy. You sucked and licked with reckless abandon, your fingers digging into her thighs as you held her in place. Abby's legs began to shake, her body tensing as she approached her climax.

With a loud cry, Abby's orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. Her back arched, and she ground her pussy against your face, fucking your mouth with wild abandon. Her juices poured into your mouth, and you drank it all in, not stopping until she collapsed forward, her chest heaving.

Abby turned around and reversed her position on you, She shifted, moving to kneel between your spread legs. Her fingers trailed teasingly up your inner thigh before she suddenly plunged two digits deep into your aching core without warning. "You want this?"

You gasped, your hips bucking forward as Abby's fingers filled you. The sudden, intense sensation was both welcome and overwhelming. Your hands gripped the couch cushions, knuckles turning white as you braced yourself. "Yes... please, Abby," you panted, your voice barely a whisper.

Abby grinned mischievously, her eyes locked onto yours as she slowly began to move her hand. Her fingers curved upward, expertly finding that spot inside you that made your vision blur. Your breathing quickened, becoming shallow pants as she steadily increased the pace. "Abby... it's…”

Your words were cut off by a sharp cry as Abby added a third finger, stretching you deliciously. She could feel your walls fluttering around her digits, knowing you were close. "That's it, baby," she cooed, her thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles.

You thrashed your head back and forth, your mouth open in a silent 'O' as Abby's fingers worked you into a fever pitch. Your fingers tangled in her hair, pulling hard as your hips lifted off the couch, meeting her thrusts. "Abby... I'm... I'm…”

Abby's eyes darkened with triumph as she felt your body tense, your orgasm imminent. She leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. "Let go. Come for me," she commanded, her fingers plundering your soaked depths with increased fervor.

Your back arched sharply as your climax hit you like a tidal wave. You cried out Abby's name, your voice echoing through the room as your inner muscles clenched rhythmically around her fingers. Abby held you through it, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back against the cushions, spent and trembling.

Abby's expression softened as she looked down at you, cuddled against her chest. She stroked your hair gently, her voice tender. "That was… You were-" she murmured.

Abby chuckled softly, her fingers trailing down your back. “Incredible. You're incredible.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Then, the air shifted—suddenly, she grew quiet, her expression turning serious. She held you close, but there was a tension in her grip now, as if she was reminding herself of everything she had tried to guard against. She remembered what had brought you both to this moment, and it hit her all over again—this couldn’t be a sign of weakness, of letting her walls down completely. She didn’t want you to see the side of her that she had fought so hard to keep hidden, especially now that you knew why her drive for perfection had always been so intense.

Her fingers tightened around you, but the tension in her grip was clear—she was holding on, but not entirely letting go. Abby’s gaze flickered to yours, then quickly darted away, like she was trying to avoid something she wasn’t ready to face.

“I don’t... do this,” she murmured, her voice unsteady, the words almost lost in the quiet. “I don’t let people in.”

There was a sharpness in her tone, something defensive, reminding you that this wasn’t the Abby you’d come to know—the confident, determined girl who had always kept a distance. This was someone else, someone raw, someone afraid of being vulnerable.

“I’m not asking you to change,” you said softly, your hand brushing her arm. “I’m not asking you to let your guard down completely.”

Abby looked away again, her breath catching slightly as she shifted, pulling back just enough to create space between you. "You should go," she said, her voice suddenly more distant, the walls rising again. "This... doesn't change anything. You were right about me—about everything. It doesn’t just vanish."

You could feel the shift, the sudden return to the distance she’d always kept. Her walls were back up, thick and impenetrable.

"You don’t have to keep pretending with me," you said, your words barely more than a whisper, but they seemed to hit her harder than you intended.

She stiffened, her jaw tightening. "I’m not pretending," she snapped, her voice sharp. "This is just... it’s not normal for me. I’m not... like you. I can’t just... I can’t just let go. There’s always something to prove. To everyone."

Her words cut deeper than you expected. You knew she was driven, had always been, but hearing her admit it so plainly—how much she’d built her life around that need for control—made you realize how much harder it was for her to let someone in.

"I’m not asking you to," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I’m just here. I’m not going anywhere."

She met your gaze again, but this time there was something different in her eyes—hesitation, doubt, maybe even a little fear. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by the same guarded expression she always wore.

"Don’t say that," she said, almost pleading. "Don’t act like I’m some... I don’t need someone waiting around for me. I don’t need anyone thinking they can fix me."

The words stung, but you knew they weren’t meant to hurt. She was trying to push you away, but this time, it felt different. Her voice, though sharp, wasn’t as certain as it usually was. You could see the cracks, but she wasn’t ready to let them show yet.

"I’m not here to fix you," you said, your voice quiet but firm. "I’m just here. And if you want me to go, I’ll go. But I’m not going to pretend like this didn’t happen."

Her eyes softened for just a moment, but before you could say anything else, she turned away, pulling the blanket around her tightly. "Please. Just go."

You hesitated, but nodded, the weight of the unspoken things between you heavier than the room around you. Without another word, you left, knowing that whatever had happened wasn’t over—not yet. And whether she would admit it or not, neither of you were the same as you were before.

Quiet Before the Storm

The next day, the library felt heavier than usual. There was a thickness in the air that you couldn’t quite shake, as if everything from the night before had followed you here. You'd barely seen Abby throughout the day. When you did, she seemed like she was in a different world, not meeting your gaze, not acknowledging you like she usually did.

You both had agreed to meet in the library to finish up the project, which was nearly done, but somehow it felt impossible to focus now. You were both supposed to be competitive, to push each other to be the best, to always come out on top. That was the deal. But now, after everything that had happened, things were different—this wasn’t just about grades or outshining each other anymore. It was something deeper, something much worse. There were feelings tangled up in it now, things that neither of you knew how to navigate.

You arrived early, trying to settle your nerves as you stared at the empty table. The clock on the wall ticked in time with the erratic beat of your heart. When Abby finally entered, you felt her presence before you saw her. She was just as you remembered—indifferent, guarded—but this time, there was something else in her eyes. A flicker of something unspoken, something that made you pause.

She didn’t acknowledge you, not in the way she usually did. Instead, she just walked past, set her things on the table, and sat down, almost mechanically. The usual fire in her eyes was gone, replaced by a quiet, almost unsettling calm.

"Let’s just finish this," she said, her voice devoid of the usual sharpness, flat and cold.

You nodded, but as the minutes passed, you realized this wasn’t the same. You weren’t just competing to finish a project anymore. This felt like a competition of something deeper, darker—something that neither of you had signed up for. The connection, the tension, everything that had happened between you both, was still hanging there in the space between you. It was worse than before, because now it wasn’t just academic pride or the need to be the best at school. This was about something more fragile, more vulnerable.

The silence between you both grew, and with it, the understanding that something had irrevocably changed. You both could feel it, but neither of you dared to address it. Instead, you kept working, but every movement felt heavier, as if the weight of your own thoughts and the lingering tension between you was suffocating you both.

It wasn’t just about competing for grades anymore. It wasn’t about who could be the smartest, the most driven, or the best in class. This—this was something worse. It was about what happened when all those walls you built around your pride and your achievements crumbled, and what you were left with was something real, something raw, something neither of you were prepared for.

You didn’t know if this was the end or the beginning of something far more complicated. But you did know one thing: it wasn’t going to be easy.

Something Beneath The Surface

The day of the presentation arrived, and despite the lingering tension between you and Abby, you both found yourselves sitting next to each other in class, preparing for what was supposed to be the grand finale of weeks of hard work. The project that had brought you together was almost complete. Almost. The day felt like it was going to be just another day—until it wasn’t.

Before the bell rang, there had been a quiet unease between you two. Abby had barely looked at you since you both walked in, her eyes focused on the project folder in front of her as she nervously fidgeted with a pen. The usual competitive spark in her eyes had dimmed, and she seemed distant—like she was holding herself back. You couldn’t help but notice the way her fingers tightened around the edges of the paper as if trying to keep herself from unraveling.

You sat quietly, your mind running through the final details of the presentation, but no amount of preparation could silence the knot in your stomach. You knew you couldn’t hide what had happened between you both, but now, in front of the entire class, everything was different. You weren’t just presenting to finish a project anymore. You were presenting as something else—something uncertain, tangled between unspoken feelings and unfinished business.

When the class started, you were called to go up first, and the usual nervousness was replaced by a tension that had nothing to do with the project. Abby stood beside you, her expression unreadable. You started presenting your section, your voice steady, but each word felt like it carried more weight than it should have. The class was watching, but it wasn’t the eyes of your classmates that made you feel exposed—it was Abby’s. She stood there next to you, speaking in her usual calm, collected tone, but her gaze never once met yours. She was speaking as if she were still trying to maintain control, as if this whole thing was just another task to cross off her list.

When it was over, the class clapped politely, but you barely heard them. All you could focus on was the space between you and Abby, the silence that lingered like an elephant in the room. You turned to her, hoping for something—some acknowledgment that you hadn’t just been two strangers presenting a project, but two people who had shared something much deeper.

She nodded stiffly, her eyes still avoiding yours. “Good job,” she muttered, but the words felt distant, like they weren’t meant for you at all.'

The bell rang, signaling the end of the class, and Abby didn’t wait a second longer. She gathered her things quickly, her movements sharp, like she was trying to escape something. Before you could say anything, she was out the door, leaving you standing there, unsure of what had just happened.

The rest of the class seemed to blur as you walked out, your thoughts racing, not about the project or the presentation, but about Abby. It wasn’t just the project that mattered anymore—it was the looming presence of Ivy Week, just around the corner. Everyone was preparing, everyone was talking about it. It was more than just a week—it was the culmination of years of hard work, of everything that mattered to Abby. And you? You were caught between that and everything that had happened between you two.

You stood there, thinking of what to do next. Should you follow her? Talk to her? Or should you focus on Ivy Week like everyone else and just let everything go?

But even as the question lingered, the anticipation of Ivy Week hung heavy. You could almost hear the voices of your classmates, already strategizing, preparing for what would come—the pressure, the competition, the stakes. Abby, as driven as she was, wouldn’t let this chance slip away, and neither would you. But with everything that had happened between you two, it felt like the real challenge wasn’t the Ivy Week itself—it was figuring out how to move forward when you both seemed to be walking on different paths, yet so undeniably intertwined.

Tipping Point

Ivy Week had arrived in full force, and with it came the heavy anticipation that hung over every conversation, every glance. You could feel it in the air—the competition, the tension, the pressure that had been building for months. It was everything everyone had been working for, and now, it was all coming to a head.

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before the news broke. Abby was in the hallway, talking to a group of friends when you overheard her name—your stomach dropped as you realized what they were saying. Abby had been accepted into Harvard. Of course, she had. She had everything it took—the perfect grades, the relentless drive, the ambition. It was all there, like a sign that her efforts had paid off. You felt a small sense of relief; you'd heard about your own acceptance into the Ivy League, and even though you had been so focused on the future, part of you had been dreading what it would mean for your relationship with Abby. You knew it had to come sooner or later—the fact that you were both destined for the same future.

As the day dragged on, it was clear that the excitement surrounding Abby’s acceptance was only making everything more complicated. The halls buzzed with congratulations, but to you, it felt almost suffocating. You’d worked just as hard—maybe even harder—to get to this point. But something about Abby's success, the way she held herself with that quiet, smug pride, made you feel like there was more to it than just academic rivalry.

The day ended, but the weight of the news was still hanging between you two, pulling at your every interaction. You couldn’t avoid Abby for long, and as the evening wore on, she showed up at your dorm room, her face unreadable.

“Congratulations,” she said quietly, her voice softer than usual. She hadn’t come to celebrate, not like you’d expected. Instead, there was an emptiness in her words.

“Thanks. Same to you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. You didn’t know what to say. There was so much tension between you two that you couldn’t even look at her without feeling like you were both trying to hold onto something that was slipping through your fingers.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” she said, a small, almost sad smile flickering on her lips. “But I guess... I guess it was inevitable, huh?”

You could tell she was trying to joke, but the bitterness in her voice was hard to ignore. You stood up, not sure if you wanted to get closer or push her away. "It doesn't feel like a win. Not yet," you said, your voice quiet, unsure if you were talking about Harvard, or about everything between you and her. "You were always going to get in. You always do."

Abby tilted her head, studying you carefully. “And you?” she asked, her tone suddenly more serious. “You think I’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? That this is the end of it for me? Getting into Harvard? It’s all just part of the plan, right?”

You were taken aback by the question. You didn’t know what to say. “It’s not just about that, Abby. We’ve been… we’ve been competing for so long, it feels like this whole thing was a game.”

She laughed, a small, dry sound that didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe it was. But I don’t know if I know how to stop. Even now, even after everything that’s happened between us.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick with meaning. You could feel the tension crackling. “You don’t have to keep proving anything to me, Abby,” you said, voice wavering slightly. “You’ve already done more than enough.”

Her expression softened, but only for a second, before she seemed to close off again. "I don't know how to not keep proving it," she said quietly. "I’ve spent my entire life doing this—focusing on my goals, on everything being perfect. It’s who I am. And maybe, in some twisted way, I wanted you to be a part of that too. But I’m afraid, if I stop now, I might lose everything."

You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “You won’t lose anything,” you whispered, reaching out to touch her arm. "Not if you let yourself live a little. Let yourself have something outside of all this. Something that isn’t about competing. Something real."

Abby met your gaze, her eyes flickering with a mixture of confusion and fear, but also something else—something deeper, something raw. She stepped back, shaking her head. "I don't know if I can," she murmured, voice shaky. "Not after all this time. Not after everything I’ve sacrificed.”

The words stung, but you knew she was still in the process of understanding everything that had happened between you two.

"I get it," you said softly, trying to mask the hurt. "But maybe it’s time to stop pretending everything’s about winning. Or maybe you just don’t want to let go of the fight we’ve been having. Either way, we’ve been running from this for too long."

Abby didn’t answer right away, but the way she avoided looking you in the eyes told you everything you needed to know.

And as the night fell silent, the weight of Ivy Week, the pressure of the competition, and the uncertainty of your future together loomed over both of you. The storm wasn’t over, but it felt like you were both too exhausted to fight it anymore.

In the silence, all you could hear was your own heart beating, wondering what would come next.

After the Storm

It had been a few days since the tension had shifted between you and Abby, and though things had slowly started to feel lighter between you both, there was still a quiet sort of distance. You hadn't heard from her much after your last conversation, and while you didn’t mind the space, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on inside her head.

That’s when the knock on your door came.

You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not Abby, so when you opened the door to find her standing there, looking slightly apprehensive, you blinked in surprise. She was dressed in her usual cool, effortless way—jeans, a hoodie, and her sneakers, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. But her eyes, the ones you had come to know so well, were different this time. Soft. Vulnerable, even.

"Hey," Abby said, her voice a little rough. "Can I come in?"

You stepped aside, heart pounding for reasons you couldn't quite explain. "Of course."

She hesitated for a moment before walking in, her steps slow as she looked around your living room like she was unsure of how to act. The quietness between you two was palpable, but there was something in her expression that told you she was here to say something important.

You offered her a seat on the couch, and she took it without a word. You sat down across from her, crossing your legs, unsure of how to begin.

"So," you said, trying to keep your voice casual. "What’s up? What brings you here?"

Abby ran a hand through her hair, a nervous habit you had come to recognize. She seemed almost distant for a second, like she was debating whether or not she should say what was on her mind. Finally, she sighed.

"I’ve been thinking a lot lately… about everything," she started, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that caught you off guard. "About the competition, about how everything was always about being the best. About how much I pushed everyone away, including you."

You blinked, taken aback by her honesty. Abby had never been the type to open up about her feelings so easily, especially not with someone she had been so competitive with.

"I get it," you said softly. "You were just doing what you thought you had to do. It wasn’t about me or anyone else, it was about you trying to be perfect in your own way."

Her eyes softened at your words, and for a moment, you both just sat in silence. The weight of everything that had happened—the arguments, the distance, the unspoken feelings—seemed to hang in the air between you, but there was something different now. Something that felt like the storm had passed, even if the aftermath was still lingering.

"I don’t want to keep pretending like I have everything figured out," Abby admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I don’t want to keep pushing you away. You… you mean more to me than I’ve let myself admit. I’m just scared. I don’t want to mess this up."

You could feel your heart flutter in your chest. She wasn’t the same Abby who had always been so focused on her grades, her goals, her need to win. This was a new Abby—a more open, vulnerable version of herself that she’d kept hidden for so long.

But then, there was the hesitation, the quiet fear that lingered behind her words. "And my parents..." she trailed off, looking away. "They’ve always had these expectations for me—about what I should do, who I should be. They push me so hard, and I always felt like I had to be perfect for them. I didn’t want them to see you as… a distraction. I didn’t want them to think you were just some mistake. I didn’t want to disappoint them."

You listened, your heart sinking as you understood what had been holding her back. The weight of her parents’ expectations had been another chain keeping her from fully embracing what she wanted—what she needed.

You gently reached out, placing a hand on hers, feeling the coolness of her skin as she glanced back at you. "Abby, you don’t have to be perfect for them. You’re allowed to make your own choices. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to have someone who sees you, not just the version they want you to be."

Abby met your gaze, and you saw something shift in her eyes—something lighter, like a part of her was letting go of the weight she’d carried for so long. "I know," she whispered, her voice quiet but firm. "And for the first time, I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if they disapprove of me being with you. I’m tired of living my life for them. I want to live for me."

The relief in her voice was palpable, and you couldn’t help but smile, your chest swelling with affection for her. You had always seen Abby as someone strong, driven by the need to be the best, but now you saw her in a different light—vulnerable, human, real.

She leaned in then, her hands cupping your face as she kissed you softly, her lips warm and tender against yours. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, an unspoken vow between the two of you that no matter what happened, you were both going to be okay.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, and you could feel her breathing even out, the tension from before finally dissolving.

"I don’t want to be scared anymore," she said quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I want to see where this goes. I want us to figure it out together, no more fear, no more pressure."

You nodded, your heart full of hope. "We will," you said, voice soft and sure. "Together."

And in that moment, everything felt right. The storm had passed, and what was left in its wake was a new beginning—a chance for both of you to be yourselves, without the weight of the past, without the fear of judgment. You didn’t need to be perfect. You just needed each other.

Together.

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