#thinking i should go there next week when i go back to school

[ki2rins]

⟢ swim - sjy

pairings: transfer student! jake x fem! reader || fluff, angst || wc: 2.5k

synopsis: you have always been the star on your swim team, bringing your school to glory. but everything starts going downhill when jake, another talented swimmer, transfers in. as you start a one-sided rivalry with him, you realise that hes less of a rival and more of an ally.

warnings: high school au, rival swimmers au, one sided rivalry (you see him as a threat, but he isnt), confident jake, petname (jake calls you jelly like twice?) brief hinting of jake liking you.

rin's yap: thankyou anon for the req <3 hope you love it! (btw im a big fan of the anime, free! so this was fun to write! )

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“welcome back, team! good job at the last prefectural competition, especially you, yn. our two-time champion of 100m free! you broke your own record with a timing of 1 minute and 11 seconds. we are so proud of you, yn!” 

applause erupted as coach choi, your swim club coach, praised your achievement. 

you picked up swimming at the age of 5, joined your first competition at 8 and won your first medal not long after.  now, you were a two-time champion, the best in your category. freestyle was your best stroke, the one you have been fine-tuning for years, the one that everyone praised you for. people admired your technique, your stamina, your precision. 

and you intended to keep the praises rolling in. 

unaware, you hadnt notice a figure entering the locker room - someone unfamiliar. 

“to the rest of you, continue to improve for the next meet that’s coming up in two months.” 

“uh coach choi?” an unfamiliar voice spoke up making your club members, including yourself, turn their heads.

“ah jake! here you are, i have been waiting for you!”

you looked this ‘jake’ up and down. with one glance, you could tell he was one of you guys. 

he was a swimmer - the tanned skin tone gave it all away. 

coach choi smiled proudly, turning to the rest of the team. “jake is the new transfer student from australia. he’ll be training with us, so make sure to welcome him. hes got a lot of experience under his belt, so dont be shy about picking his brain!”

you couldnt help but roll your eyes at your coaches’ words. pick his brain? yeah, like you needed advice from some new guy that just joined your team moments ago. 

jake, clearly unfazed, grinned at the team. “hey everyone, glad to be here. hope i can keep up!” his smile easily charmed the girls on your co-ed swim team and something about him already irks you - his confident yet annoyingly laid back composure. 

one of your teammates, eunjin, leaned in, whispering to you. “look, look! isnt he cute? should i go ask him for tips? do you think he’ll talk to me?” 

you glanced over at jake, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he chatted with some of the others. he was already making himself at home, and the fact that he was so comfortable in this new environment threw you off even more. 

this was definitely going to be a problem.

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it was like jake was everywhere. 

and everywhere, it was literally everywhere in your sight. 

at practice, in the locker rooms and even in the hallways. every time you turned around, there he was - chatting with your teammates, making small talk, laughing at things that werent even funny. 

at first, you thought maybe you were just imagining it. you had been busy with your training, pushing for a new personal best, but by the way jake seemed to be seamlessly integrated into the team irritated you. he had only been here for a few weeks, yet it felt like he had been with the team forever. 

the more you saw him, the more it bothered you. hell, you were fully convinced that the ‘egg theory’ is more than fiction. 

his confidence was too much, and the ease with which he navigated everything made your stomach churn. it was like he was constantly reminding everyone that he was better - even when he wasnt even trying, even when he wasnt even in the water. 

it didnt help that you were already feeling the pressure to hold on to your position as the team’s best. you had been the one everyone looked up to, the one who had earned all the accolades, leading your school to its fame. now, jake was walking in and getting all the attention. 

jake was stealing your thunder, and it drove you insane. 

one afternoon during practice, you were doing your usual drills when jake casually swam in the lane next to yours. as you caught your breath after one of those sets, you heard jake calling out to you. 

“i noticed your breathing pattern is a little off, you might want to time it better with your strokes. you are wasting energy. if you are aiming for a better timing, you should focus on that.” 

you bit back a sharp retort, forcing yourself to stay calm. you always appreciated constructive criticism, some even helped to perfect your form. but hearing it from jake pissed you off, it felt like him pointing out flaws he wasnt even supposed to see - especially when you hadnt asked for his opinion in the first place. 

“i know what im doing.” you muttered, not looking at him. 

jake shrugged, unfazed by your cold response. “alright, just giving you my thoughts, no big deal.” 

you glared at the water, looking at your own reflection. the water was your safe space, your haven, but being criticised while in your element made it feel more than a big deal. it made the water surrounding you feel foreign, like it was no longer yours. 

the worst part? jake was right. his critique wasnt wrong, but it stung all the more because it came from him. 

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for the next few days, jake’s presence annoyed you more and more. every time you came to practice, he was there, effortlessly gliding through the water, as if he had been part of the team longer than you had. his form was near perfect. no matter how hard you tried to beat him, he was always ahead, cutting through the water like he belonged. 

and that infuriated you. 

the final straw came one day when you found yourself in the locker room with jake again, though this time, the tension was thicker. you had just finished another gruelling set, drenched in sweat and trying to keep your cool. as you walked towards your locker, you saw jake standing there, chatting with one of your teammates, a wide grin plastered on his face. 

you tried to ignore him, like always, focusing on your towel and your bag. but then, of course, you heard him speak again. 

“yn, how about we work on those breathing drills later?” jake’s voice was casual, easy. “im pretty sure i can help you shave off some time.” 

you froze. 

this time, it wasnt just some advice he was giving, it was him acting as if he was more than just the new guy. 

“i dont need your help, jake.” you snapped, more sharply than you intended. 

he raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your outburst. “alright, jelly. no need to bite my head off. just trying to offer some help.” 

“first off, what did you just call? secondly, are you sure youre offering ‘help’ or are you just trying to show off?” you crossed your arms, your patience wearing thin. 

jake’s expression softened for a moment, and he leaned against the locker, his grin replaced by something more genuine. “look, im not trying to steal your spotlight, okay? im just here to train, like everyone else. and since you are aiming for a new best, im just trying to help you as well.” 

you felt the anger rise in your chest. “you are not like everyone else. you have been here for five minutes, and suddenly you think you know everything”” 

jake hesitated, his eyes searching for yours, and for the first time, there was something more in his gaze. “im just trying to help. but if you dont want it, i’ll back off” 

you looked away, suddenly unsure of how to feel. part of you wanted to snap at him, to remind him that he didnt belong, that he couldnt just come in and take everything from you. but the other part, the part that knew he was right, that knew he wasnt trying to undermine you, just felt confused.

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you couldnt shake the feeling that something was off. all day, you felt a tight knot in your stomach, as if every little thing was working against you. you kept replaying the moment in with jake that happened in the locker room - his words, the confidence he exuded and that stupid nickname he gave you. jelly. you didnt even know what to make of it, but it stung more than a jellyfish did. 

you knew you needed a release, so you headed to the indoor pool after practice. the one place you knew you could find peace and quietness in. it was already two hours since practice ended, so you knew no one was going to bother you.

you dove in the water, letting the coldness shock you back into focus. stroke after stroke, you pushed through the water, letting your mind drift. for a moment, you were back in control, nothing was blocking your thoughts. no jake, no tension, no schoolwork, just you and the rippling sound of water. 

but then, from the corner of your eye, you saw him. 

jake. of course.

he was standing by the side of the pool, arms crossed, watching you swim. you didnt need to see his face to know he was there. you could feel him, his presence and you knew his eyes were on you. you tried your best to kept swimming as though you didnt care, but obviously you couldnt. 

you stopped at the wall, pulling yourself up and taking in a deep breath, trying to steady your breath. then, you heard his voice. 

“practice ended two hours ago, what are you doing here?” 

“why do you care?” you shot him a glare as you pushed your goggles up. 

jake raised his hands in mock surrender, a slight grin tugged at his lips. “woah, calm down jelly. was just watchin’. looks like you have something to prove tonight, huh?” 

“just go away, jake. i dont need your help. i dont need anyone’s help.” you said in frustration. 

his smile faltered slightly, but it was still there. “you sure about that? you have been pushing yourself harder than anyone here. i just thought you might-” 

“i dont need your advice.” you cut him off. “not from you, not from anyone.” 

there was a moment of silence lingering in the air before jake took a step closer to the pool, leaning over slightly. “look, if you think you can do it all on your own, fine. but maybe you would be faster if you didnt push people away.” 

you could feel anger bubbling inside you, a big contrast from the serene sight of water in front of you. the sting of his words were biting into your chest, eating you up alive. “what the hell do you know about it? you have been here, what? couple of weeks? you think you have figured it all out?” 

jake’s gaze softened, the playful energy from before draining away. “i dont have it all figured out. but i do know that im not here to take your spot. im here to train, just like everyone else.” 

you clenched your jaw, frustration swirling in your chest. “then stay in your lane. this is my team, my spotlight.” 

jake didnt flinch. his eyes were steady, watching you closely. “but im part of your team now. thats the change you have to accept. and maybe its not about the spotlight. maybe its about getting better. together.” 

his words hit you harder than you expected. you looked away, trying to steady your breath. you didnt want to admit it, but part of you, knew he wasnt just speaking about swimming. and this made the situation feel more complicated than it already was. 

“i dont need anyone.” you muttered under your breath, almost to yourself, before you could hear it. 

but jake heard you. he stepped even closer, standing at the edge of the pool now, watching you carefully. “you dont have to do it alone.” he said, quieter this time. “and im not here to make you feel like you have to.” 

the words lingered between you both, thick with unspoken tension. the distance between you, once measured in simple rivalry, had shifted. now, it was more than that - more than the frustration, more than the anger. 

and for the first time in weeks, you werent sure if you were ready to face what came next.

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slowly, you accepted jake’s help. 

it wasnt easy, not at first. there was still a part of you that resented him for making you feel like you werent enough on your own. but as the days passed and practice went by, you started to realise something - maybe, just maybe, you didnt have to carry the weight of everything by yourself. 

at first, you still kept your distance. it was subtle - small things like not looking hin the the eye when he offered advice, or pretending to be focused to engage when he swam next to you. but he didnt push, didnt force anything. he was patient. 

the first time you actually took his advice was after a particularly brutal set. you were pantin g for air, hands gripping the edge of the pool, when you felt him approach. 

“you okay?” he asked, his voice low, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of water slapping against the sides of the pool. 

you nodded, too tired to even respond. 

he crouched by the poolside. “i saw you struggling a little with your timing. if you want, i can show you a drill to help with your breathing rhythm.” 

the words hung in the air between you, your pride bristled at the thought of needing his help, but a quiet voice inside you told you that he wasnt trying to undermine you.  he was just trying to help. 

“fine.” you muttered, pushing yourself off the wall and drifting back into the water. 

as he demonstrated the drill, something inside you shifted. it wasnt just his skill you were admiring - it was his ability to give without expecting anything in return. he was simply…there. no judgement, no agenda, just set on helping you improve, because he knew thats what mattered. 

it wasnt easy to admit that you didnt have all the answers. but as the weeks went on, you started seeking his advice more often. first, it was small things, like adjusting your stroke or the timing of your breaths. then, slowly, you began to see that his presence didnt just make you better in the pool - it made you better outside of it, too. 

you still hated admitting it, but jake was starting to feel less like the enemy and more like an unexpected ally. 

and when he grinned after watching you perfect a new stroke, you couldnt help but grin back. 

“not bad.” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“thanks, i guess, for the compliment…and maybe for the help too.” 

there was no big moment or revelation, no dramatic scene where everything clicked into place. but slowly, day by day, you allowed him to help. you didnt expect everything to change overnight. you were still wary, still holding on to that part of yourself that didnt want to rely on anyone. 

but with jake, it was little easier to take it one step at a time. 

“anytime, for you, jelly. whenever you want.”

© ki2rins 2025, please do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[lia-linny]

summary: To keep their annoying classmates at bay, Changbin and YN decide to make a fake dating deal. But as time goes by, more and more real feelings are mixed in with the fake ones.

words: 4.7k

genre: fluff, highschool au

The cafeteria buzzed with its usual cacophony a symphony of voices interwoven with the clatter of trays and the occasional shout thrown across the room. Yn sat in her customary place, positioned on the fringes of the commotion. Her friends, enrolled in higher classes, had their lunch break later, leaving her to dine alone, often lost in the embrace of a book.

Today was no different. Or rather, it should have been. Yet, something else tugged at her attention. Instead of vanishing into the pages before her, she found herself staring absently at her plate, willing herself to ignore the jeers from the next table.

"Hey, Yn! Still single? Have you even tried, or does no one want you?" Laughter followed, sharp and grating. Heat crept up her neck, but she did not respond. She was used to this. It was routine. All she had to do was feign indifference, pretend she hadn’t even heard.

"Maybe she’s waiting for ‘the right one,’" someone sneered.

"Can’t you mind your own business for once?" The voice cut through the laughter like a blade, its edge unmistakably sharp. Yn blinked, startled. Changbin. He was seated a few tables away with his popular circle of friends, yet now he had turned toward them, brows drawn together in quiet disapproval. His usual playful smirk was nowhere to be found.

"What’s it to you, bro?"

"Nothing at all. But if you’re going to be loud enough for half the school to hear, then surely I’m allowed to comment as well." Silence fell over the group, and with a satisfied shrug, Changbin returned to his meal as if nothing had happened.

Yn, however, found her pulse inexplicably unsteady. She hated being rescued. Or maybe it was the mere fact that he had interfered at all. She exhaled sharply, reaching for her water bottle, only to struggle against the stubbornly sealed lid. The frustration mounted, her grip tightening, until she was a mere breath away from flinging the bottle across the room when suddenly, a presence settled beside her. Just like that.

"Hey." Changbin’s voice was warm, accompanied by an easy smile. Yn blinked, confusion flickering across her face.

"Uh… hi?" Without another word, he took the bottle from her grasp and twisted the cap open with effortless ease before sliding it back toward her. Yn could only stare, utterly dumbfounded.

"You’re going to think I’m completely crazy, but hear me out," he said, grinning now.

"And before you say no, just listen." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial.

"I have a problem. You have a problem. And I think we might just be able to help each other." Yn raised a skeptical brow. His grin widened.

"My friends have been trying to set me up with random girls for weeks. Last time, they nearly sent me on a blind date with Hyunjin’s cousin and she’s twelve." A startled laugh escaped her before she could suppress it.

"Sounds… interesting."

"Oh, you have no idea." He shook his head with exaggerated dismay.

"And I hear you’ve got a bit of a… situation yourself." Yn’s amusement faded, her gaze narrowing.

"Nothing serious. Just the usual high school nonsense," she said carefully. Changbin lifted his hands in mock surrender.

"I get it. But let’s be real" he inclined his head toward the table of jeering voices "they won’t stop unless they’re given a reason to." She exhaled, her stomach knotting.

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"Fake dating." Silence.

"What?!"

"You and me. The power couple of the season." He gestured grandly, as if crafting a headline.

"If we pretend to be together, my friends will quit setting me up. And for you? Well… those idiots over there won’t have anything left to say." Yn regarded him as though he had lost his mind. Changbin, however, lounged back in his chair, utterly unbothered, as if he had all the time in the world.

"And what if it all falls apart?" she asked at last, wary.

"Then it falls apart." He shrugged.

"Really, what do we have to lose?" A thousand reasons to say no ran through her mind. But instead, she lifted her chin, willing herself to appear composed.

"Alright." His eyes gleamed as he extended his hand.

"Deal?" Yn hesitated only for a breath before clasping his hand in hers.

"Deal."

~☆~

Monday morning arrived, and Yn was resolute this so-called relationship was to be kept as uneventful as possible. A few well-placed appearances together, some occasional hand-holding, nothing too conspicuous. Simple. Unremarkable.

But then came Changbin. The school doors swung open, and there he stood backpack slung effortlessly over one shoulder, that everpresent, mischievous grin playing on his lips, as if he found the entire world amusing. And to Yn’s absolute horror, his gaze locked onto hers, and he strode forward with unmistakable purpose.

"Good morning, Bunny!" His voice rang out, far too loud, echoing across the corridor like an announcement. Yn nearly choked on her to-go coffee. Before she could react, Changbin had already closed the distance, draping an arm around her shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Did you sleep well? I missed you sooo much." His words carried through the hallway, ensuring that no one missed them. Yn felt the weight of a dozen curious stares land on her like a tidal wave. Heat rose to her cheeks.

"Changbin!" she hissed under her breath, but he only leaned in, as if whispering a secret.

"First relationship gig. We have to make it convincing."

"That wasn’t the plan!" Too late.

"You and Changbin?! Since when…?" Yn barely had time to register her best friend, Chaeryeong, materializing beside them, eyes wide with astonishment.

"I thought you two were just…?"

"Well, surprise!" Changbin announced, flashing a dazzling grin. Chaeryeong’s mouth hung open.

"We wanted to take it slow," he added, "but we couldn’t keep it a secret anymore." Yn wished, prayed, for the earth to swallow her whole. But then Changbin looked at her, and in his eyes, she caught the tiniest flicker of something an unspoken question. Do you trust me? So she swallowed her pride, forced a smile, and nodded.

"Yes. Surprise." Her laugh was anything but natural. Chaeryeong still looked like she had just witnessed a miracle or a catastrophe.

"Yn! Oh my god! How? And more importantly, why didn’t you tell me you were dating such an idiot?" She placed her hands on her hips, looking as if she were personally offended by this turn of events. Changbin gasped in mock outrage.

"Excuse you, but I wooed her for months," he declared dramatically.

"Love letters, roses… I even wrote poetry. Very sentimental. She’s into that, you know." Yn smacked his chest lightly.

"In your dreams." Chaeryeong let out a high-pitched squeal.

"Yn-ie, I’m so happy for you!" Changbin shot Yn a wink, and despite herself, a small smile slipped onto her lips.

The moment the crowd had dispersed, Yn grabbed Changbin by the sleeve and yanked him into a quiet corner.

"Are you insane? What the hell was that all about?"

"Marketing, Bunny." He smirked, utterly unrepentant. "If we’re going to do this, we might as well do it properly. Now everyone believes us." He folded his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Be glad I didn’t show up in my 'I ♡ My GF' t-shirt." Yn exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers to her temple.

"Changbin…" But his expression shifted just slightly. A rare moment of sincerity flickered in his eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, "I know that was… a lot. But now they’ll stop bugging you. So… mission accomplished, right?" She sighed, relenting.

"I hate that you’re right." His grin returned in full force.

"You’ll get used to it." And as much as she fought it, she couldn’t shake the creeping suspicion that her fake boyfriend was beginning to feel a little too real.

~☆~

Yn stood outside the café, shifting nervously on her toes, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. She still wasn’t sure how she had ended up here a date with Changbin. Well, a fake date. But still.

"I must be out of my mind." She mutered under her breath.

"Nice of you to finally admit it." She winced and spun around. There he was grinning, warm and effortlessly self-assured. And, as always, dressed in black. Yn wondered if it was a fashion statement or just a habit. Either way, it suited him unfairly well.

"You’re late." She crossed her arms, more to keep from fidgeting than to scold him.

"Sorry, got caught up at the studio with Chan and Ji. But don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you, Bunny."

"Stop calling me Bunny."

"Uh-uh." He shook his head in mock disobedience, and before she could argue further, he took her hand and pulled her inside. That’s when it hit her that strange, crawling sensation of being watched. Yn’s stomach twisted. She could feel the eyes on them, hear the hushed whispers of classmates scattered throughout the café. Of course, they had chosen the one place where half their school tended to gather. Because why make this easy? Changbin, naturally, was unfazed. If anything, he seemed to revel in it.

"Our audience is here." Yn merely rolled her eyes, though she envied the ease with which he handled attention. But that was the whole point of tonight, wasn’t it? To make their "relationship" believable.

They settled into a corner table, ordering drinks, and before Yn knew it, she was caught up in the way Changbin talked about everything and nothing all at once. His words had a way of turning the mundane into something fascinating. The theory that his friend Jisung might secretly be an alien. That Minho was, in all likelihood, a cat trapped in a human body. Yn found herself laughing, her initial nervousness melting away.

"I don’t get how you manage to be so… funny all the time."

"Well, that’s just my natural charm." He flicked his wrist dramatically. But then, just as suddenly as he had been joking, he fell quiet. The light in his eyes dimmed, the ever-present humor slipping for just a second. And in its place, Yn saw something else. Something real.

"You know… it’s easier to make jokes than to show people when you’re not feeling okay." The words lingered in the air between them. Yn hesitated, unsure how to respond. So instead, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his.

"If you want, you can just be yourself with me." Changbin looked at her, and for the briefest of moments, everything about this about them didn’t feel fake at all. But then the waiter arrived, and just like that, the moment was gone. They stayed at the café for hours, talking until the sky outside deepened into twilight.

When it was finally time to leave, Changbin called for the bill and insisted on paying, waving off her protests with an easy grin. As they stepped outside, the evening air wrapped around them, crisp and cool. Yn shivered.

"So," she said, shifting from foot to foot, "I guess our first fake date was… a success?" Changbin smirked.

"I’d do it again."

"Dream on." He laughed at that, the sound rich and unbothered. And then, without warning, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and blew a soft kiss against her knuckles.

"Good night, Bunny." Yn stood frozen, her heart slamming against her ribs as she watched him walk away, his hands tucked into his pockets like he hadn’t just left her questioning everything. And she wondered if she wasn’t treading into dangerous territory.

~☆~

The weeks slipped through Yn’s fingers faster than she had expected, her fake boyfriend arrangement with Changbin taking up far more space in her life than she ever could have imagined. He was everywhere. Always there. Like now.

"Why are you sitting here?" Yn shot him a skeptical glance as he slid into the empty seat beside her in the middle of English class, completely unfazed. Changbin only grinned, tilting his chair back as if he owned the place.

"Because I missed my Bunny." He winked and Yn sighed, exasperated.

"Changbin..."

"What? I have to make this convincing." He shrugged, all innocence. But his eyes sparkled he knew exactly what he was doing. The teacher began the lesson, but Yn could barely concentrate. Not when she was hyper-aware of him the warmth of his presence, the way his arm brushed hers just barely, sending tiny, treacherous sparks up her skin. Then, as if he hadn’t already invaded enough of her space, he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.

"What do you say we go to the movies on Friday? Like, another official date." Yn blinked.

"Official fake date, you mean."

"Sure. Fake." His smirk was far too smug.

After class, she was stuffing her books into her locker when something warm brushed against the back of her head - a kiss. Her breath caught in her chest.

"Hey, Bunny." Changbin’s arms wrapped around her, casual and easy, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Yn prayed he didn’t feel how wildly her heart was pounding.

"So… Friday. The movies?"

"I haven’t said yes yet."

"But you want to." He grinned against her hair.

"Admit it. If you'd rather, we could go to the gym instead. Power couple aesthetics." That was a terrible idea. Considering the only thing she ever lifted was her overloaded school backpack, she doubted she could survive a Changbin-style workout. But before she could answer, Chaeryeong’s voice interrupted.

"Oh my god. A movie date? That would actually be cute… if you weren’t going with such a loser, Yn." Changbin gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest. Yn forced a bright smile, trying to keep up the illusion of their totally real romance, which was beginning to feel less and less fake by the second.

"Yup! Totally looking forward to it." Chaeryeong squealed, linking her arm through Yn’s and dragging her away.

"You guys are so cute, it’s disgusting." Behind her, Changbin only waved, a knowing grin on his lips.

~☆~

Yn stood outside the cinema, arms crossed against the cool night air, shifting impatiently on her feet. Of course Changbin was late. She huffed, glancing at her phone. Typical.

"Thought you were going to ditch me."

"No way." His voice came from behind her, smooth and easy, and when she turned, there he was grinning, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking unfairly good.

"I got all dressed up for this." Yn raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"You’re wearing a denim jacket."

"At least it’s not all black." He shrugged, the corner of his mouth tugging up in amusement. And, annoyingly, he was right. The outfit did suit him.

They found seats in the last row of the theater, and slowly, Yn’s nerves settled until Changbin’s hand found hers. Her fingers tensed.

"What…?" she whispered.

"Seungmin’s in the front." Changbin’s voice was quiet, warm with barely concealed laughter.

"He doesn’t believe us yet. Says I could never fool someone intelligent like you enough to become my partner." Yn glanced toward the front, spotting Seungmin, who was definitely side-eyeing them.

"Just because his girlfriend is top of her class and has some super amazing scholarship, he thinks she’s special." Changbin chuckled. Yn exhaled through her nose, turning back to the screen, trying and failing to focus on the movie. Because Changbin's thumb had started brushing against the back of her hand. A slow, absentminded stroke. And every time, her heart stuttered. That strange, unfamiliar pull tightened in her stomach, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted it to stop or if she secretly liked it.

At some point, he wordlessly passed her his popcorn to share it with her, despite the fact that she had once overheard his friends say that Changbin would rather die than give up his holy food. The thought made her chest feel strangely warm.

When the movie ended, they walked outside in silence, the cool air crisp against Yn’s skin. After a moment, Changbin mumbled,

"Hey... thanks for doing this with me. This whole thing..." His voice was quieter now. More sincere. Yn looked at him, and there it was that rare moment where all the cocky humor slipped away. Where there was no class clown, no over-the-top theatrics. Just him. And suddenly, before she could even think about it, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Goodnight, Bin." Then she turned and walked away, heart racing, thoughts tangled. And long after she had disappeared into the night, Changbin remained where he stood, fingers brushing the place where she had kissed him, smiling softly.

~☆~

Monday morning. The school was as loud and chaotic as ever, but for Yn, everything felt… different. Ever since Friday, the movie, the kiss, this whole fake thing had become fare more complicated. And when she saw Changbin in the hallway, laughing with his friends, that unwelcome truth only settled deeper in her chest. Her heart beat faster. Her palms grew clammy. Not good. Not good at all.

"Hey, Yn-ie!" She flinched as Changbin spotted her, striding over without hesitation. His smile was as bright as ever, but that glimmer in his eyes, that teasing, knowing spark had been haunting her since the moment she left him standing outside the theater.

"Good morning, Bunny."

"Changbin..." she warned, but he barely seemed to notice.

"I brought you something." She blinked as he pulled a small package from his jacket pocket and held it out to her.

"What… is this?"

"Look yourself." Carefully, she unwrapped it. Inside were her favorite chocolat and a few other small things she liked. For a moment, she just stared. He had remembered. She didn’t know what unsettled her more the fact that he knew her preferences or the unfamiliar warmth unfurling in her chest.

"Why…?"

"Because I’m an amazing fake boyfriend." He winked. "And because you deserve it." Yn opened her mouth but found no words. The sincerity in his voice, the casual ease of his affection it was too much. So she did the only thing she could. She deflected.

"You’re really getting carried away with this whole boyfriend thing, don’t you think?" Her laugh was light, too light.

"Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t even really started yet." Before she could answer, Chaeryeong suddenly appeared beside them.

"Hey, you two! Have you heard about the party on Friday? You’re coming together, right?"

"Actually, I—"

"Of course we’re coming." Changbin cut in smoothly, grinning. Yn turned to him in horror. Traitor!

"Oh, come on." He draped an arm around her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"A little dancing, a little fun… plus, I have to go anyway. Ji’s performing some of his songs, and I promised him I’d be there."

"I love Jisung’s rap!" Chaeryeong gushed, already bouncing away probably in search of Jisung himself to shower him with compliments. Yn exhaled sharply.

"You’re driving me insane, Bin." Changbin’s grin, if possible, only widened.

"And yet… you’re still here." His voice had softened just slightly, and there it was again that strange, unwelcome pull, curling in her stomach, making her thoughts go fuzzy. She really needed to see a doctor. Maybe she had some sort of digestive issue.

"Friday will be great, Bunny." And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the hallway, clutching a bar of chocolate and an absolute mess in her head.

~☆~

The music, the crowd, the pounding bass, Yn wasn’t sure why she had let Changbin drag her into this chaos. At least her dress was nice. He had insisted on buying it for her, and despite her protests, he had already removed the price tag before handing it to her. Which meant she couldn’t even feel guilty about accepting it. And, well… he had good taste. She wondered not for the first time how he would treat his real girlfriend if this was how he treated his fake one.

"There you are!" Changbin’s voice cut through the noise, his grin as bright as ever as he appeared from the crowd.

"Ready to maintain our perfect couple image?" Before she could protest, he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. And then… it was just music. And him. He spun her around, laughed, pulled her closer. His hands firm on her waist, her arms looping around his neck. The warmth of him. The way he moved, effortless, like he was made for music. It felt real. Way too real.

"You're not so bad at dancing," he murmured, voice just barely brushing her ear.

"Neither are you," she admitted, throat dry. And then she looked at him. Really looked at him. And suddenly there was nothing fake about it at all. As his gaze dropped to her lips her breath hitched.

"Yn…" But before he could say anything else, a voice interrupted.

"Changbin! I thought you were still single? Wasn't this whole relationship just an act or something?" Yn turned, heart dropping. A girl stood there tall, gorgeous, with an air of casual confidence. Yuna, she realized. A friend of Chaeryeong’s. Something hot and sharp curled in Yn’s stomach at the way Yuna looked at Changbin, like she was weighing her options.

"Nah, this is very real, Yuna. Yn is my girlfriend." Changbin’s arm tightened around her. But Yuna didn’t let it go.

"That’s funny. Cause I definitely heard people talk about your relationship being fake." Silence. Yn’s pulse pounded. Not just from fear of being caught. But from something much worse. Fear of losing him. She glanced at Changbin. The usual grin was gone, and that scared her more than anything.

"Who said that?" His voice was calm. Too calm.

"Well, rumors spread fast." Yuna shrugged.

"And some say Yn’s just pretending to be your girlfriend because no one else wants her." Yn’s face burned. Shame. Anger. Hurt. She wanted to run. But Changbin didn’t let go.

"Do you know how I feel about rumors?" His voice was quiet making the situation feel even more dangerous. Even Yuna hesitated.

"Nothing. at. all." he emphasized every word and before anyone could react he leaned in and kissed yn. Soft and certain. One hand cradling her cheek, the other pulling her closer. And everything- everything felt too real. No pretense. No performance. Just them. When he pulled back, his gaze never left hers.

"Well...does that look fake?" he murmured. Yuna scoffed, disappearing into the crowd. But Yn barely noticed. Her heart was too loud. Her mind is an absolute measurement.

"Bin..." Her voice barely worked.

"I know." His voice was rough, forehead resting against hers. "I'm sorry." For what, she didn't know. But what she knew was that this wasn’t fake anymore. Not at all.

~☆~

Yn had barely slept since the party. Her first kiss, this utterly unexpected, dangerously real kiss haunted her thoughts without respite. She could no longer convince herself that it had all been pretend. Not after what she had felt in that moment. And now, she had no idea what he felt for her. But why would he want more from her?

Monday morning found her standing nervously before her locker, her mind a mess. She had barely seen Changbin since Friday night and, truthfully, she had been avoiding him on purpose.

"Hey." And there he was. She froze as his voice, quiet and unusually hesitant, reached her ears. Slowly, she turned, meeting his gaze. He was smiling, but it wasn’t the usual confident, easy grin she knew so well. It was tentative, uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

"Hi." A heavy silence settled between them, unfamiliar and uncomfortable. It had never been quiet between them before not with Changbin, who always walked beside her, talking endlessly about anything and everything. But now, he had nothing to say. Or maybe he simply didn’t know how to say it to her.

"About Friday..." Changbin ran a hand through his curls an unmistakable sign of his unease.

"I just… I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine." A lie. And she knew he could see right through it.

"Yn..." His voice softened, and she knew what was coming. He was going to talk about the kiss. And she couldn't at least not yet.

"We shouldn't overthink this, right?" She tried to sound casual, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. "I mean... it was just part of the act. So they’d believe it." For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to argue, as if she had just knocked the wind out of him. But then, slowly, he nodded.

"Right. Just an act." His smile vanished, and a sharp pain bloomed in Yn’s chest one she didn’t quite understand. Maybe she should have her heart checked when she next visited the doctor. Because every time she saw him in the hallway, laughing with his friends, that same dull ache returned.

She knew then, with frightening clarity, that she didn’t just want this fake relationship. But at the same time, she knew false hope would only wound her more deeply in the end. After all, why would Changbin feel anything beyond what their arrangement required? That was all they were a convenient partnership.

Yn sat at the lunch table with Chaeryeong and a few of their mutual friends, trying to stay engaged in the conversation. But her gaze kept straying to Changbin. He was sitting with his friends, laughing, throwing playful jabs at them just like always. And yet, why did she wish she were sitting beside him? Laughing with him? Wrapped in the warmth of his strong arm?

"So… how are things with Changbin?" Ryujin asked suddenly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"You two are basically the school’s dream couple now," Lia added with a grin.

"It’s… fine," Yn replied.

"Girl! Give us the tea!" Ryujin complained but Chaeryeong rescued her by getting sentimental.

"God, Yn, you’ve changed so much. I mean, you smile so much more now. You seem… happier." Yn swallowed. She knew she needed answers. Clarity. And there was only one way to get it.

~☆~

Yn’s heart pounded as she walked toward Changbin. The cafeteria was loud with laughter and conversation, but it all blurred into background noise. She only saw him. Changbin was in his usual spot, joking with Jisung, Chan and his other friends, his laughter infectious.

But as if sensing her, he looked up. His smile faltered for just a second before he covered it up with that easygoing grin.

"Hey, Bunny." The nickname sent a familiar warmth through her, but she ignored it. She needed answers.

"Can we talk?" His friends exchanged knowing looks, but he just nodded, pushing back his chair.

"Yeah. Let’s go." They ended up outside, where it was quieter. The late autumn air bit at her skin, but it wasn’t the cold making her shiver. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, at the same time

"Changbin-"

"Yn-" They both let out short, nervous laughs. But the tension was thick between them. Yn exhaled. Just say it.

"Look, I just… I need to know where we stand." Changbin shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his jaw clenching.

"You tell me," he said.

"Because Friday night? That didn’t feel fake to me." Yn’s breath hitched.

"But that’s what this is, right?" she whispered. "That’s all it was supposed to be." He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well. Plans change." His eyes met hers, something raw and vulnerable there. "At least, they did for me." Yn’s heart stopped.

"What… what are you saying?"

"I’m saying that maybe I don’t want to pretend anymore." The world seemed to tilt. Changbin stepped closer, voice softer now. "You asked why I do all this, why I remember your favorite chocolate, why I buy you dresses, why I call you Bunny like it’s second nature." He hesitated. "It’s because somewhere along the way, I stopped pretending." Yn felt like she couldn’t breathe.

"Bin…" He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"But if this is just a deal to you, if that kiss meant nothing, then… tell me now. Because I don’t think I can go back to just being fake with you." Silence stretched between them. Her mind was screaming at her to be honest. To say what she felt. But fear was a heavy thing. She looked at him the boy who had somehow become everything to her. And then she did the only thing she could to express her feelings. She kissed him.

But neither of them dared to exhale just yet. Because even now, with their feelings laid bare, they weren’t ready to put a name to whatever this was.

~☆~

Yn stood before the door of the small studio that Changbin shared with Jisung and Chan. It was their sanctuary, the place where they created music together not just as a hobby, but as their passion. A dream they hoped would one day turn into a career. She knew how much this space meant to them. And she hoped, more than anything, that she would find Changbin here. Preferably alone.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside. And there he was. Seated at his computer, lost in a melody so gentle it seemed to weave through the air itself.

"Can I come in?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. Changbin looked up, surprised. But then, with a small shrug, he said,

"Yeah. Make yourself at home." She settled onto the small sofa in the back of the room, drawing her knees to her chest. For a while, silence stretched between them, broken only by the music. Carefully as though even the slightest movement might shatter the fragile peace she closed her eyes and let the soft notes seep into her heart.

Until he pressed the stop button. The sudden quiet felt heavier than the music had. Changbin spun around in his chair, facing her.

"Yn… I know we said this was just pretend. Or that we don’t whant to label our relationship but..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore." Her heartbeat quickened.

"Bin..."

"I like you. And not just as part of this deal." His voice was quiet, yet each word struck her with the force of a storm. "to me, it feels real yn and i don’twanttolose you." Yn didn’t know what to say. But she knew the only right thing to do was to speak from her heart.

"It feels real to me too." His smile was careful, filled with fragile hope. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of their words, of their shared confession, hung in the air between them like something fragile and precious. Then, slowly, Changbin stood up. He crossed the small space between them, hesitating only for a breath before lowering himself onto the couch beside her.

"Then let’s stop pretending," he murmured. Yn’s heart pounded.

"What do you mean?" He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"I mean… I don’t want this to be just an act anymore. I don’t want to go back to whatever we were before. I want this, us to be real. A real girlfriend. A real boyfriend." She searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but there was none. Only sincerity. Only him.

"Are you sure?" she whispered. Changbin let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

"I’ve never been more sure of anything." A smile tugged at her lips. And then, before she could second-guess herself, she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his. His grip tightened, warm and steady.

"So… does this mean you’re my real real boyfriend now?" she teased, her voice light, but her heart full. A smirk played at the corner of his lips, the confidence she knew so well flickering back into place.

"I mean, yeah unless you want to keep calling me your ‘fake’ boyfriend." She laughed, shaking her head.

"No. No more fake. Let’sbe honest from now on."

"Good." And then, with no more hesitation, Changbin cupped her cheek and kissed her. This time, it wasn’t for show. This time, it was real and she felt it.

[sensorytuna]

── VENI, VIDI, VICI.

part one . part two . part three .

synopsis. a stupid bet with cartman forces kyle to prove that he can, in fact, pull and be able to date. after hearing about it, you agree to being his fake lover.

notes . occasional swearing, aged up characters (high school students

♡ : kyle broflovski x reader

- it started as nothing

- which is what it’s exactly supposed to be; nothing

- two friends pretending to date for the sake of an immature bet

- but kyle isn’t stupid, he starts noticing things

- like how you always look at him like he’s the only boy in the world

- or the way you’d lean closer to him when no one is looking

- and even the way your laugh feels too real when teasing him in the halls

- he hated how his stupid heart reacts to it

- he catches himself thinking of you all the time

- mid-class, mid-sentence, mid-breath

- he’s shoving his books into his locker then suddenly his mind drifts away from going to stan’s place to the way your arms lingered on him before pulling away

- or he could be in the middle of arguing with cartman and his brain will just imagine it’s you he’s arguing with like in some 90s romance sitcom

- holy shit

- what’s happening to him

- it’s infuriating

- because it’s fake

- it should be

- and yet when you leaned closer that time during lunch while listening to him talk like he actually mattered

- all he could think was

- “i wish this was real.”

- meanwhile you were going through your own crisis

- it was supposed to be funny

- you, being kyle’s devoted lover because it was all fake

- but the lines of real and fake began to blur

- at some point you stopped paying attention to the people that surrounded you that have been fooled

- but rather paying attention to him

- like how he always waits for you after class without thinking

- or the way he’d automatically carry your things for you when your hands were full

- and the way he’d look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention

- not with lust or anything

- he’d look like you were worth paying attention to

- and it drove you crazy

- it hits you in moments you don’t expect

- like whenever he’d brush his hair back and your brain’s first instinct is to say—

- “that was kinda cute”

- or when he argues about something stupid and you’d realize you love seeing how passionate he can get

- or when he does something thoughtful, like buy you that dumb thing you’ve been eyeing for the past few says

- he’ll grumble about it, claiming it’s no big deal

- you had to physically stop yourself from smiling on the way home

- it’s frustrating

- because this is fake

- it’s always been fake

- yet when kyle caressed your hand with his thumb while walking with intertwined fingers, all you could think was—

- “i wish this was real.”

— ♡ —

- you follow kyle to his car to bring you home like all the other days

- but this time, the ride home was quiet

- the redhead’s hands grip the wheel tighter than necessary, his knuckles turning paler than his skin

- laufey’s valentine hummed low on the radio in the background

- 'cause i think i’ve fallen…

- in love this time…

- i blinked and suddenly, i had a valentine…

- neither of you say a word about the ironic song choice

- because this is it

- the week was over

- a week of holding hands

- of sitting too close

- of letting your fingers brush against each other

- a week of kyle walking you to class, of you stealing his fries at lunch, of teasing and soft laughter like you two genuinely had something

- it shouldn’t have felt weird to let go

- it was never real

- so why did it feel like you were losing something?

- kyle cleared his throat, shifting in his seat

- “so, uh. guess we’re done now, huh?”

- his voice was clearly stiff, forced

- you nod, glancing out of the window “mhm, no more fake dating.”

- you tried to sound casual and light, like all of this didn’t feel like shit

- a forced, dry laugh escaped kyle’s lips. “yeah. no more PDA or uh.. sitting next to each other.”

- no more smiling at you like that. no more holding your arm like he belonged there.

- you swallow past the lump in your throat.

- “no more ‘babe’,” you joke, trying to sound funny

- the joke didn’t land

- kyle clicked his tongue. “yeah. guess i’m finally free.”

- free at last, yeah

- you were finally free

- you didn’t know how to respond

- wasn’t this supposed to be what you wanted?

- to finally go back to normal?

- but why does the thought of being “normal” feel so fucking empty?

- kyle had to do your homework for a month, but at least he got away with the bet

-

- right?

- the car slows down as kyle eventually makes a stop in front of your house

- he keeps his hands on the wheel, staring ahead

- his jaw is clenched like he’s holding something back

- you sit there, gripping your bag, like you’re waiting for something

- neither of you say it

- neither of you say “i don’t want this to end.”

- instead you force a small smile

- “well, thanks for the ride.”

- kyle nods with an unreadable expression

- “yeah. see you at school.”

- you hesitate for a moment, before opening the door and stepping out into the snow

- the cold air wrapped itself around your body, as if it were mocking you about the fact that this is over

- that kyle broflovski was never really yours to begin with

- the car idles for a moment before kyle pulls away

- as you watched the red taillights disappear down the street, you realize something awful

- you don’t feel free

- in fact, you didn’t even realize how much you were dreading this day until now

- you feel like you just lost something that was never supposed to belong to you in the first place

— ♡ —

- monday was hell

- it’s not even lunch time yet, but you feel like crawling into your locker and staying there until graduation

- you and kyle didn’t talk. didn’t make eye contact. didn’t acknowledge each other in the hallways.

- it was stupid

- this was how you two acted towards each other even before the deal even began

- yet why did it feel like you were ripped away from something?

- it’s like going through an actual breakup

- and of course you’re not the only one who noticed

- by the time it was lunch, you were practically dragged by bebe to your table with the other girls

- “okay, spill,” bebe demands, sliding to her seat next to you while everyone else eyes you like a predator sizing their pray

- you blink, caught off guard. “what?”

- wendy folds her arms— “don’t ‘what’ us. you and kyle.”

- red leans in, her voice softening. “did you guys break up?”

- your stomach drops at that

- everyone is staring at you with varying degrees of concern, curiosity, and oh my god they actually gave a shit about your “relationship”

- “you haven’t told us anything about you ‘n him since… well, when you two started dating.” red frowned

- “not that i’m surprised,” annie says, picking at her salad— “you two were an odd couple.”

- bebe kicks her under the table, causing it to shake lightly

- wendy rests her head on her hand, observing your every move

- “are you okay?”

- you’re not okay, you know you’re not okay, but then at the same time you can’t really tell them that without explaining the whole fake dating thing

- “yeah, i’m fine.”

— ♡ —

- meanwhile, kyle is suffering too

- not that you’d notice, you’re too busy sulking over the fact that you’re troubled over the “break-up”

- “what happened?” stan asks, leaning across the table “did you guys fight or something?”

- “or did you say something slightly offensive that you pissed ‘em off?” kenny adds with a smirk

- “nothing happened, we just-“ kyle took a deep breath to contain himself, before continuing “we’re done, that’s it.”

- stan and kenny exchanged a glance

- obviously something had happened other than just being done with each other

- cartman on the other hand was thriving on kyle’s current position

- “so what you’re saying is,” he drawls, a shit-eating grin present on his face “you fumbled.”

- this bitch

- kyle stared daggers at him— “shut the fuck up.”

- cartman hummed in mocking sympathy, “no no, i get it. relationships are hard, dude. one minute, you’re happy, in love, being all sickeningly cute,”

- kyle stiffens

- “—and the next? bam, it’s over.” cartman sighed dramatically, “so tragic.”

- kyle shoved his tray forward and stood up so fast that he nearly moves the bench by himself, despite stan sitting beside him

- “i swear to god—“

- “dude, chill.” stan cautioned, grasping his arm

- kyle exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes shut and clenching his fists

- he knows he’s overreacting, of course he does

- but the whole conversation makes his skin crawl

- in fact anything related to you makes his skin crawl alone

- he’s spent the entire day trying not to think about how it felt like you two actually broke up

- and hearing it out loud?

- yeah

- he needed to get the fuck outta here

- “gonna get some air.” kyle grunted, shaking off stan’s grip and stalking towards the lobby of the school

- his friends watch him go

— ♡ —

- a week passed

- a whole, agonizing week of avoiding eye contact, of pretending you don’t miss each other, of dancing around the fact that neither of you feel normal anymore

- a week of your friends side-eyeing you at lunch

- of stan and kenny looking at kyle like he’s a ticking time bomb

- of cartman making offhanded comments that kyle physically has to restrain himself from reacting to

- a week of pretending the idea of moving on doesn’t feel like swallowing glass.

- sometimes kyle regrets even taking the bet in the first place

- he blames cartman for everything

-

- kyle snapped on friday

— ♡ —

- the hallways are empty, save for the two of you

- you’re both late for class

- kyle because he stayed here on purpose

- you because he cut you off just as you turned the corner

- within a second, he’s slamming your back against the lockers, hand pressed against the side of your head while his other was curled into a fist

- his jaw is tight, his face is flushed, and his eyes are locked onto yours with a stare that makes you wanna melt into a puddle

- “what the fuck are we doing?”

- your heart pounds, “kyle—“

- seriously,” he interrupts, his voice frustrated

- “why the fuck are we acting like we actually broke up? it was supposed to be fake, it was never real—“

- “i know that.” you sucked in a sharp breath, avoiding eye contact

- a humorless laugh escaped his lips

- “do you?”

- he shakes his head, dragging a hand through his auburn curls

- “because i don’t. i don’t know anything anymore, dude.”

- you don’t respond, piquing him to continue

- “all i know is that this fucking sucks, and i- i miss you—“

- you nearly stop breathing at that

-

- kyle exhales shakily, dropping his head with his temple against the lockers beside you

- you can smell his cologne

- jesus christ he reeks of axe body spray

- his hand twitches, like he wants to touch you but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed

- “kyle..” you start, your voice quiet

- he swallows, lifting his head high enough just to make eye contact with you

- “tell me i’m crazy,” he murmurs, licking his dried lips

- “tell me you don’t feel the same way, that you don’t feel like shit, that you don’t want this to be real, and i’ll leave you alone.”

-

- “you’re not crazy.”

- your pulse quickens at his reaction—his eyes widening

- holy shit is this actually happeni-

- kyle kisses you

- it’s desperate, as if he had been longing for this moment

- his hands find their place—one on your cheek, the other snaked around your waist

- he held you like you’re a fragile thing, like you’ll break apart if he pulls away

- he presses into you, like he’s trying to make up for all the days wasted in silence, for all the times he could’ve kissed you before but didn’t

- you kiss him back

- there’s no hesitation, no thinking, no doubt—just the overwhelming certainty that this is right

- yeah, he knows whose head he’s shaving that day

the end ♡ hope you enjoyed!!! more stuff to come in the future :-)

[kitkatstu-dies]

Back to school inspo ✨📚

[flickeringflame216]

.

[regular-lord-reckoner]

so i took my car in today because i thought it might just need some more brake fluid and although i tried to just look at it myself i couldn't for the life of me figure out which part under the hood was the brake fluid reservoir without having to lean all over my car and get all dirty, so i figured i might just have to pay a service fee and whatever for the fluid itself...

turns out i need all new brake pads !!

ahaha

haha

ha

yay

[astral-catastrophe]

me and the generic extra strong Tylenol and the pure rage in my system

[seaofreverie]

So busy with Sparkstember that I almost forgot that I go back to school on tuesday

[adore-gregor]

my perception of grades totally changed since i started uni

[exopelagic]

I know the world is cruel because I finally wanna draw again and yet I am forced to pack :(

[dollfacefantasy]

MAKE HIM DO WHAT I SAY ♡

pairing: older bf!!logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan make a little bet. who can last longer without sex? as much as he wants to deny it, he's starting to think the answer might be you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief daddy kink (one mention)

a/n: a commission for my sweet @sleepyluxe who i love so very much <33 this fic takes place after the events of dofp when things are fixed.

Seven days. One week. A quarter of a month. That's how long it had been since Logan and you had fucked.

It was brutal. Some may say he's being dramatic, but that's because they've never had the luxury of you. They couldn't understand losing a paradise they've never experienced. The past several days he's felt like a man wandering through a barren desert, the oasis in sight but never close enough to drink from. Absolute torture.

Unfortunately, this situation came about because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

You'd been getting some work done late last Sunday evening. Just a few plans for the upcoming school week. Your fingers punched away at your computer while Logan lay on the bed twirling a stray cigar between his fingers.

"How many more pages you got?" he asked, boosting his head up to glance at you.

At the sound of his voice, you spun your chair around to face him. "Not that many. Just finalizing a few details for the field trip they're taking the kids on next weekend," you said.

"You're not even going. Why're they making you do that?"

The fat stick of tobacco continued to glide between his digits. One of your legs crossed over the other as you watched him.

"I'm not going because I offered to do all the planning," you reminded him. 

Your eyes stayed on the tantalizing movements of his fingers.

"You know you can't smoke in here, so don't even think about it," you said.

He rolled his eyes and puffed air through his pursed lips as if that was an outrageous warning. Sitting up, he put the cigar back in the drawer on his side of the bed. He rose to his feet and began to cross the room in your direction.

"Maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth then," he teased, his voice lowering to the octave that reverberated with want for you.

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned your chair back toward the desk and continued grazing your fingertips over the raised letters.

It didn't deter him though. He kept on in your direction, stopping only when he was directly behind the backing of your seat.

His hands landed on your shoulders, fingers massaging the tight muscles fanning out from your neck. He leaned forward so his head hovered beside yours. You could hear each breath he took. The smell of that cigar lingered around his form even if he hadn't lit up tonight.

"C'mon, babydoll. You've been working so hard. A little break won't hurt you," he murmured, lips pressing against your cheekbone.

"I have to have these done by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be done for the night and completely focused on you," you'd rebuffed him gently.

But that didn't satisfy Logan. When he wanted you, he got you. He proceeded with his tender touches and luring pecks. You remained focused on your work though. He figured he should vary his approach.

"Just let me make you feel good then, honey. Give you some extra motivation," he whispered. His dedicated hands drifted to your waist, squeezing in a way that teased the idea of lifting you up and putting you on his lap. As good as it would've felt to be full of him, you knew you had to get this done.

"You're so bad," you said with a smile, head falling back a little as his mouth moved to your neck, "You act like you haven't gotten any in decades."

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting tired of me?" he teased.

"No. I'm just saying you're insatiable. It's getting to the point where I don't think you could live without me," you responded with a tone matching his in arrogance.

His eyebrow raised, and he pulled back a little to laugh. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Your sweet eyes stared him down, begging him to disagree.

Looking back, he wishes he could travel through time again to slap any further words out of his mouth. He should've just agreed! Should've told you that you were absolutely right. That he can't live without you, can't survive this life if he doesn't get to slip inside of you at the end of each day. He should've waited the fifteen minutes it would've taken you to finish your paperwork and then gotten laid.

But he didn't do any of that. He had to keep going and dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Don't act so innocent, princess. You're just as bad as me," he'd said.

"No way," you'd huffed, smirking with amusement, "I want you a totally normal amount. You want me like every second of the day. If you could, I don't think you'd ever let me do anything. You'd probably keep me chained to the bed, yours for the taking at all times of the day.

"Like you wouldn't love that. I'm not the one pawing at you every morning, whining about how bad I need it," he taunted.

"Oh shut up, that's happened like a couple times. Every day you're right in my ear, feeling me up. You practically drag me away from what I'm doing when you wanna fuck," you fired back, "I am nowhere near as bad as you."

And then he'd spoken the three cursed words that launched him into this predicament.

"You wanna bet?"

You laughed more at that and nodded again. "Sure. Because I know I'll win."

And that unofficial vow of celibacy was why the two of you had been dancing around each other for the past week. He was starting to feel like that old love song counting the amount of time it'd been since he had you beneath him last. Fifteen hours and seven days or however it went.

You didn't make this trying time any easier for him either. That night he went to sleep with blue balls. The next morning, he woke up to you getting ready. You weren't dressed in your usual style of clothing though. Instead, you had on a dress, Logan's favorite dress of yours. You'd styled your hair real pretty too, letting it compliment your features in the best way.

As his heavy lids blinked open to consciousness, he watched you fasten a shimmering necklace over your collarbone. It sat just above the neckline of the chiffon fabric that adorned your bust.

You caught his waking eyes with your own in the reflective glass, turning to look at him with a bright smile. 

Despite his bleary vision, he could hear the light steps of you prancing over to him. The mattress dipped with your weight as you sat down and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers slid through his dark hair just the way he likes, with your nails scratching his scalp a little. Worst of all, that close, the scent of your perfume became all consuming. It hit him harder than normal. He wasn't sure if he should blame you or himself for predicting the trials of the coming days.

He hummed in acknowledgement of your presence and nuzzled into your palm.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you cooed, your voice extra soft and sweet. It was too caring to be seductive, but of course, that's where his mind went anyways.

"Hey, baby," he'd mumbled.

"I gotta go drop off that paperwork, but I'll see you later. I love you," you whispered in return before laying one more column of kisses from the tip of his nose back to his forehead.

Then you'd left, leaving him half-hard and yearning for you. A pattern that would plague him over the next week.

Each day it was some new form of torture. The day after that, you'd worked extra hard in the danger room, coming back to him at night covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your heady natural scent filled the bedroom in moments.

The following afternoon, you wanted to cuddle when you both had some free time. The fact that you draped your leg over his torso, slotting your clothed cunt right against his hip, inches away from his cock, was pure accident of course.

Over the last few days, your games have become less specific. You peppered your speech with innuendo. Looked at him with your fuck-me eyes and spoke in the tone you always used seconds before he ended up bending you over the nearest surface.

He tried to fight back, he really did. He stopped wearing a shirt in your shared room. Every time he talked to you, he made sure to rub your ass or stroke your cheek. He was so desperate he stooped to embarrassing levels of lovey-dovey when the two of you were alone. But no matter what he tried, it seemed like you'd been right. Of your pair, you had the superior restraint.

With each passing hour, his frustration grew.

Today, it reaches its zenith.

The mansion is empty because it's Sunday. All the students and other teachers are out on the trip to the observatory today. You and Logan are the only remaining residents in the school. He ended up not having to tag along with the rest of the group after volunteering to fix the sprinklers bordering the school's patio. Babysitting kids had never been his forte even with all the practice he gets at it now. Simple handiwork he could do no problem.

The two of you take the morning to sleep in. This was a rare occasion where no early meetings or classes occupied your schedules. You stay tangled up together well past sunrise.

Logan is the first to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He pulls himself from the nest of pillows and blankets, stretching his limbs out as he does. He rubs the tiredness from his features before rising and heading to the wardrobe to pull on some clothes.

In addition to his normal black t-shirt and jeans, he grabs the tool belt on his way out to the lawn. He slings it around his hips before walking through the back door. Heading past the basketball court and rows of hedges, he finds the line of leaking sprinklers besides them. It would probably take him a while given that he had to first identify the source of the problem and then recalibrate all of them with the adjustment.

He sighs but gets to work. At least he'd have a distraction from the desires haunting him.

Crouching in the dewy grass next to the little faucets, he begins examining the hard plastic shells. To his surprise, scanning for breaks does attach his mind to the task and give him a brief reprieve. It's quiet outside. Besides a small chirp from a distant bird or a grunt out of him, no other sounds echo over the open space. The sun shines in the sky, but it's not beating down on him. The air tickles his skin with warmth but not to the point of being miserably humid.

All the conditions meet in the perfect middle to keep him calm. It's the most peace he's had since he agreed to this bet between the two of you.

But all that tranquility is shattered about a half hour later when he hears the patter of footsteps against the stone pathway. From around the tall thicket of green foliage, comes you. Your face breaks out into a smile the second you burst into his vision. He would look the same if not for what you'd decided to wear.

You trot over to him across the grass in a pair of tiny black shorts with lacy frills on the hems. They sway with each of your movements, highlighting the shape of your legs. A gray camisole graces your upper half; a delicate white bow sits at the center of the collar, dead center between your breasts. The fit of the garment displays the contour of your chest just right. He feels like he's gonna start drooling before you make it near.

Despite his reaction, the outfit wasn't that provocative. It wasn't like you'd strutted out in lingerie. But he was so pent up that a flash of your ankle in the proper lighting could probably get him hard.

Bounding up to him, you wrap his body in a tight hug. Every curve of your form presses up against him.

"Look at you, working so hard," you praise playfully with a kiss to his cheek.

He laughs it off, returning the hug in an attempt to be normal, so you wouldn't see how vulnerable he was right now, how this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't let you know that in this moment, he could easily become the prey.

"Were you missing me already?" he asks, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

"Mhm. Woke up and you were gone," you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, planting a few electric kisses on his skin.

"I didn't wanna wake you. You're pretty cute when you're sleeping," he mutters.

"Well now I'm gonna be cute out here with you," you say and pull back. You peck his lips one more time before plopping down in the grass behind him.

He glances back at you to see what that means. All you're doing is sitting there. Your legs extend out in front of you, straightened for his eyes to rake over. You lean back with your palms against the moist greenery below you.

"You don't got anything better to do with your day off?" he asks.

That earns him a small pout. "If you want me to leave, I will. I just wanna spend time with you."

He can tell by your tone that your intentions aren't so innocent. You're leading him into allowing your presence. But denying his girlfriend has never been one of the wolverine's strengths so of course, he acquiesces.

"Relax. I'm not telling you to go anywhere," he says as he turns back to his work, "I just don't think this will be that interesting to you."

"Watching you do anything is interesting to me," you joke back.

He rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

At first, things are smooth as before. He continues messing with the small, bendy pipes. You're quiet behind him. Almost too quiet, but he lets it go for now since he thinks he's found the source of the malfunction.

It doesn't take long to patch up. The more difficult part is going to each individual head and fixing the tightness. His fingers twist the little knobs to the correct settings. He then turns to you when he's finally done.

The sight of you feels like a gust of fresh air filling his lungs. You're laid out where you were before, but you've reclined across the ground. One of your arms is sprawled outwards, soaking up the sunlight while the other lazily covers your eyes. Your shadow outlines your figure against the emerald blades below you.

You look luscious and ripe, like a precious fruit ready to be picked and devoured. In any other circumstance, that's exactly what he'd do. He'd spread you out further for him and take you apart piece by piece. He wanted your nectar running down his chin with each savoring lap of his tongue. He craved the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, your walls massaging his shaft during every punishing thrust.

Imagining it now only gets the blood pumping down South to his hardening length.

He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Why didn't he do that now? What was the point of this stupid fucking contest? It's not like there was anything on the line. The only stake was his pride, which to be honest, he'd already compromised for you multiple times over the course of your relationship.

Unbuckling the leather from his waist, he discards the tool belt. Next he peels his shirt from his body and tosses it to the side.

He makes his way to you on the grass. He drops to his knees and leans forward. His muscular frame cages you in against the ground. Starting at your navel, he drags his nose up your body. He coasts over the valley between your breasts and past your collar bone. His soft exhales breeze across your throat before he finally reaches your cheek. With a gentle pull, he clears your arm from your face.

Your eyes flutter to adjust to the sunlight beaming down on them again. They take in the vision of him so close to you and the way he gazes down with adoration.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, his voice much softer than it'd been before, "You falling asleep on me?"

His thumb rubs over your jawline while the other strokes the crown of your head. A smile blooms across your lips. You can't help it with how he's behaving.

"No... well, maybe a little. I think you were right. Sprinklers are pretty boring," you say.

He grins and leans in to kiss your lips. With the exchange he hopes to communicate everything he doesn't want to say. I give up. You win.

You reach up and cup his scruffy cheeks. Your tongue swipes against his lips, sensing his longing for intimacy. He allows you in, and you deepen the connection. A long breath oozes from your nostrils.

He presses you down against the ground further as your hands slide over the little white streaks in his hair. Your fingers embed themselves in his locks. You feel his hands sliding down your body. They stop at your hips and give the plush flesh a squeeze.

It's obvious what he wants, but in case there was any doubt, his digits then hook around the top of your shorts and give them a tug.

A giggle bubbles up out of you against his mouth. You pull back to look at him with smug eyes.

"Is that your way of admitting I was right?" you ask.

He grumbles and ducks his head down to start kissing your neck. "Don't get cocky or I'll change my mind."

That makes you laugh more. You yank on his hair and pull him back up to look at you. 

"No you won't," you tease and brush your noses together. Looking into his eyes again, you can see how bad he wants this. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're giving in. And that I win. And that you can't live without me."

He gives you a blank stare. Silently, he contemplates if there's any way around this. He wonders if there's a way he can avoid utter humiliation.

"C'mon, baby. Throw an old dog a bone," he grumbles.

Giggling, you shake your head. "Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it."

He sighs and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips with learned ease. Your smile glows from this angle. The sunlight above cascades over your frame and only further accentuates your body in your tight clothes. He rubs his hands up and down your sides. His dick is already at half-mast under the denim that covers his lower body. Your heat rests right on top of it, teasing him through the barriers of cloth. It dangles what he could have if he gives you what you want right before him.

The words that challenged you and created this trap for himself came out so easy. Why couldn't these be the same?

To coax him along, you grind down the slightest bit. The pressure's so light and gentle, a mere graze of your mound on the outline of his growing bulge. He hisses at the feeling.

"Just admit it," you say, planting your palms on his chest, "Just say I was right and you were wrong."

He watches you above him, knowing you're not going to drop this. If he wanted this self-invoked dry spell to end, he'd have to make it happen.

You roll your hips down with more force, impatient to hear him comply with your request. A small whimper leaks out of you. He can tell from that sound alone that you're getting worked up. That arousal is beginning to collect between your thighs.

The thought of it makes his need for you almost biological. His hands clamp around your waist and press you down harder. He rocks his up a little to meet your own movements.

"I need you so bad, princess," he sighs, his eyes shutting as he takes in the dull pleasure of you on top of him.

"Then you can say what I told you," you tease.

"What was it again?" he asks as he continues dragging your covered pussy back and forth along his now fully hard shaft.

"Say you're giving in. That I win. And that you can't live without me," you remind him, visibly proud of your victory.

With a sigh, he repeats, "I'm giving in. You win. I can't live without you."

You smile and laugh as if it was the best thing you'd ever heard. Your head falls back with glee before coming up so you can see his face again.

"Actually, can you say that again? I'm gonna grab my phone. That way I can film it this time. I just wanna have a record-" you continue to tease, but you're cut off by your own squeal when he grabs you and flips you back over onto your back. He keeps you quiet by smashing his lips against yours as your back thuds against the grass.

This kiss burns hotter than the last one. His mouth moves with bruising passion as he pulls your shorts down your legs for real. You help him by kicking them loose. His hands roam around over your smooth skin.

He glances down and finds what he thought he felt. No panties.

Eyes flitting back up to you, he shakes his head. "You were gonna give in anyways," he accuses.

"Yeah, but you gave in first," you giggle.

A small growl rumbles in his chest, but he still leans in to pull your tank top up. He brings it across your stomach, letting your breasts fall free as he bunches the material above them. He cups the plump flesh, taking a look at the beauty he holds in his palms. You watch him in the fleeting interval in which you're forced to separate.

"So... since I win, what do I get?" you continue to gloat.

"My dick inside you," he answers as his fingers yank his zipper open and shove down his pants in a similar fashion to your shorts.

"But I'm gonna get that anyways. I think I should get a real prize," you say, aiming to stoke the flames higher.

Your hips get hauled closer across the grass, so fast that you're in danger of having green smeared across your skin.

"I don't think you'll be complaining in a few minutes, ya little brat," he mumbles.

His fist pumps over his cock as he lines it up between your legs. The leaky tip smears some precum over your folds before he slides inside. He groans as he sinks in, cherishing the feeling after the week of its absence.

You're quick to adjust to the stretch. With a sharp breath, your back arches off the grass. He had already snapped back and slammed in again. You knew he wouldn't be patient after being deprived of this. Watching him above you, your eyes study how his chest puffs in and out with harsh breaths. His strong arms extend down on either side of your head, his fists holding clumps of grass between them. 

It's a gorgeous view, but you know it can't beat the feeling.

"Closer..." you whine and grab at his shoulders, pulling him down so he's right on you and smothering your body against the turf, "Missed you, old man."

"How many times have I told you to quit it with that?" he asks as his pelvis begins setting a rhythm.

"Enough to know that I'm never gonna," you say. It's the last thing you can get out before moans shatter your plans to speak.

His warm flesh pounds against yours over and over. Your body rocks with the bounce of him on top of you. It feels so good. The world feels bright again, like you'd transitioned from an existence of black and white to living in color. It was so open out here but also so empty. Like you and him were the only two people on earth.

Your voice tapers off. Words become second to whimpers of pleasure. His hands grope the swell of your ass before returning to your sides for steady leverage.

"We'll have to work on that then," he grunts, "If you're not gonna stop, I'll just have to make sure you can't speak at all."

You preen at the idea, clutching at his muscular shoulders and back. He pants right next to your ear. Each stroke drives deep into you, brushing a spot that had ached for him to touch it again.

"Never wanna go that long again," you babble around whines.

"Me neither, baby. Think you were right. Not being able to feel this pretty little pussy every day almost killed me," he says.

A rush of euphoria flows through you upon hearing that. Your moans become more breathy, more full of need for him. You grab one of his wrists and tug his hand off your hip, pushing it in between your legs.

He knows what you want. His fingers apply some pressure and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. Immediately, he's rewarded with a whine out of you and a buck from your hips.

"Impatient," he huffs between a set of deep thrusts.

"I won," you retort, "I get to do what I want."

Even in the heat of the moment, he chuckles at your petulant tone. His hips keep rutting against you on the grass. He's sure his next task of yard-work will be covering the mysterious indents in the soil out here.

"I needa cum, Logan," you whine several seconds later, "So close."

"Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need to let it out after keeping it from me for so long?"

Your head bobs up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Please, please, please."

"Well, it's like you said. You won. So I think you can finish when you're ready."

"Mmmm- o- ok..." you whimper out.

Your hips roll up and down to reciprocate the fast pace of his own. He's battering right up against that special spot inside you that makes your mind blank and your eyes gloss up.

With a handful of whimpers, you cum. Your face scrunches as your cunt tightens around him. His fingers keep up the same rhythm on your clit, swirling around the little bud through your pleasure high.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Let it all out for daddy."

Your body seizes up at that command. Every cell of your being somehow knows to obey. You stumble over words and let them leave your lips half formed.

He keeps driving into you as you're coming down, chasing his own release. You're well into the territory of overstimulation now, all parts of you fizzling like a lit sparkler.  Your thighs quiver against his sides violently. They lock around his waist when you finally feel him slam in and drain himself.

A loud groan erupts from him. He makes no effort to restrain it given that only the two of you are here to hear it. He fucks it into you, ricocheting himself against your center a couple more times and letting every last drop pour into your dripping hole.

When he feels sated, at least for the moment, he reluctantly pulls out. He takes a couple deep breaths as he watches a bit of his cum ooze out of you. It didn't matter though. That wouldn't be the last load you took today.

His body topples over next to yours on the natural ground. You both lie there for a few moments catching your breath before you roll onto your side to look at him.

You just stare for a few moments. Your eyes roam along the shape of his face to the slope of his jaw and the curve of his chest. Leaning in, you kiss the space below his ear.

He responds to the touch by curling his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

His head turns to meet your loving gaze.

"I think we have some more time to make up for," he says.

You respond with an eager nod and hop up to your feet. Both of you pull on the basics of the clothes you'd been wearing before and rush back into the mansion, giggling as you stumble through the halls like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

The door to your room stays shut for the rest of the day. You spend the remaining hours you have enmeshed in each other; intertwined with him enough to recover from the lack you'd put yourself through.

Logan doesn't venture beyond the barrier of your shared sanctuary until the sun has gone down and darkness coats the halls of the mansion.  He walks quietly, taking his steps carefully to ensure none of the wooden planks beneath him creak.

All he had to do was go downstairs and grab you some water. In and out. Five minutes. But as he rounds the turn into the room, Scott's already there, looking through the fridge. He freezes and stands there awkwardly in his black tank top and loose sweatpants.

Having heard the sounds of his footsteps, the other man glances over at him. 

"There you are. Didn't see you around when I got back," he says simply.

Logan shrugs, trying to play it casual. He walks across the room toward the cupboard that holds the glasses. The other man's eyes follow him. He can feel that even through the scarlet shades on his face.

"Haven't seen your other half either," Scott continues.

Logan can tell from the tone of his voice where this is going. 

"Don't call her that," he scoffs, forever downplaying his attachment to you, "She's tired. She's upstairs sleeping."

"On her day off? I wonder what would have her so drained," Scott replies. His tone is flat in contrast to the little smirk on his face.

"Don't start," Logan says. He goes to the fridge to fill your cup with water. The trickle of the fluid is the only sound in the room until Scott keeps going.

"I didn't say anything," he says, raising his hands in surrender, "Only that this is the best mood you've been in all week."

"A couple hours without you around does wonders for me," Logan grumbles, wishing the liquid would pour a little faster.

"I'm sure. A couple hours with no one else around. Just the two of you after you've both been stiff the whole week," he taunts, "It's ok to admit you're whipped."

Finally, the cup is full. Logan takes it and turns away, holding one finger up as he walks from the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow, Scott."

"Yeah. Tell her if she's feeling sore, she can skip the early meeting," he says with a little laugh.

[jasontoddiefor]

Yeah sure we’ve all binged a long fic, but have you ever read a WIP and followed someone’s life?

Tidbits of information - (“I graduated today!”) - and small joys (“It’s my birthday!”) and you get to be there to say “This chapter made me cry, happy birthday, thank you for gifting us this”.

I remember reading this fic of someone at the end of high school, older than me then. They seemed infinitely wise, spoke of their future career and getting into the college they wanted. I remember them posting on days they felt like nothing could bring them down - and on days the whole world did and it’s the aftermath of a hospital visit. Cancer, I think it was, their father. I got to the end of the story, I know their father was fine, but also they got to finish their WIP. I graduated three years later than them, still dutifully wrote thank you notes in every comment. I wonder if they remember me, or just the collective of people reading the story as it updates.

Four years ago I was into my first year of university, my first year of figuring out being out in public spaces. I made excuses as to why my name didn’t match my paperwork and read a fic on the train, the same five chapters over and over again for the next years as I thought the story abandoned. It updated this week after such a long hiatus, I left another thank you comment.

There’s an author I love, they update their stories like a clockwork. When they don’t, I check their blog, just to see if their doing alright, not because I feel like they owe me, just to ensure whether I better get out my laptop to write that really detailed university level essay chapter analysis to get them smiling when their day sucked.

And then, once, when I was 17, I read a fic that hadn’t updated in over a decade. I wasn’t even in primary school when it started posting. On the last chapter, I left a comment that, in retrospect, was horribly rambly and most likely full of grammar mistakes. The author replied and though I couldn’t see their face, I thought of them crying. They were married now, had children, and hadn’t thought about this fic in years. They went through their files again, found another half written chapter and an outline. I got two new chapters to read that year.

And then, recently, someone told me they got back into writing original fiction because of my comments. I get to read nearly weekly chapters.

I love binge reading a finished fic, but nothing is ever going to top the feeling of anticipation of waiting for a chapter, the pure joy when someone tells you I was done with this, but you made me think of it again, so this is for you.

Anyway, I think we should romanticize reading WIPs more, growing up alongside the authors writing the stories we love.

[justyouraverageomniversedreamer]

Whats it called when, while scrolling through tiktok, i see and like properly look at a thumbnail of an oracle card from a deck that i have right before i close the app

Then, when i open the deck guidebook in the next few minutes in a random place, what i see immediately is the page with the image and definition of that exact card

[logansdoll]

professor

the students are excited to have their old biology teacher back, but you can't be that great... right?

CW: fluffy fluff, the events of Last Stand didn't happen, Logan being Logan, reader is a chlorokinetic (controls plants), love at first sight, Logan's down bad off rip

It was a couple months back when word of your return began buzzing around the mansion.

No one knew where the rumor started, or who started it, but the day wasn't even half over before the entire student body was obsessed.

Whispers muttered during class, lunchtime gossip chains, study group pow-wows.

Many couldn't believe it.

You? Come back?

No way.

Some could've sworn you were supposed to be gone for at least a few more years.

Others thought you weren't supposed to come back at all.

And a small few even believed that your arrival could come as soon as the following month.

But after a week or so of no follow up, eventually, the rumor was put to rest, interest diverted to the next, newest gossip on campus.

...

That is... until the story came out.

Apparently, one of the students—who seemed to have some sort of super-hearing—eavesdropped on a conversation between Scott and Charles, and found out you would, in fact, be returning to the school and your position as the biology teacher.

And that was all the students needed to go absolutely berserk.

It wasn't even a full twenty-four hours later before the first meeting of your welcoming committee was held, the new club already having about twenty-five members.

While they began making preparations and to-do lists for your arrival, another group began going out to your garden on the weekends, trimming the overgrown weeds and planting new flowers in their place, caring for them in the meantime.

Some students even started straightening up your old classroom, cleaning the clouded glass of the greenhouse and redecorating with your favorite blooms.

And, of course, Logan had to return from one of his trips right in the middle of it.

Now, at first, he didn't really give a shit.

But out of curiosity, he asked Rogue what all the commotion was about—especially after some kid ran past him with a trolley full of potting soil—and what he gathered was that you were some professor who left about a year ago to teach abroad.

Apparently, you were nearly every kid's favorite teacher, your fun and interactive lessons, along with your genuinely kind and caring personality, touching the hearts of damn near the entire student body.

Even kids who had never met you before were chipping in, helping out those who needed a little extra manpower.

It was almost unbelievable.

'If this chick doesn't show up, Charles is gonna have a nuclear war on his hands...'

"Guys!" Kitty shouted, running straight through the front door and into the foyer. "I think her car just pulled up!"

The following stampede could've ranked as a 9.0 on the Richter scale.

It was eight in the morning on a Saturday, and half the kids were still in their pajamas, but they all moved with lightning speed, grabbing their signs and noise-makers before running down the stairs.

A boy with super speed sprinted to the lower level dorms and woke everyone else, while a girl with the ability to stretch hung up a welcome banner over the archway.

"Hurry! She's walking up!" Kitty reported, her head halfway through a window.

Quickly, the students formed a crowd at the door, the teachers slowly descending the stairs to join them.

"Mmm. She's here already?" Jean yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she landed on the final step, hand in hand with Scott.

"Still as punctual as ever," he smiled.

"I'll say," Ororo grinned, crossing her robe over her chest, "She wasn't supposed to show up for another week."

Logan was less amused.

No one should have that much energy on a weekend.

Even still, he quietly settled himself off to the side, leaning up against a wall while the others joined the crowd.

'You wouldn't get this kinda reception if the President was the one coming...'

"Y'know..." Ororo started, seemingly out of nowhere, as she joined him on the wall. "I think you'll like her... she's just your type."

He turned to her, raising a brow, "Is she, now?"

Despite his playful tone, he wasn't entertaining the idea in the slightest.

All that true love-soulmate bullshit didn't exist for men like him.

He was 136, going on 137, and had loved and lost enough times to realize that at the end of the day, he'd outlive her.

So why bother?

His life would be one he forever walked alone—a fact he was slowly coming to terms with.

Or at least he thought he was.

Because as you walked through the threshold before him, flashing a heart-stopping grin, he felt all that shit go flying out his head.

You were absolutely beautiful.

And you'd think after 200 years he'd learn...

"Surprise!" the children cheered, proudly holding up their signs and tossing confetti into the air. "Welcome home!"

You gasped, dropping your bags and covering your mouth in shock as you admired the homemade decorations.

"Kids, you shouldn't have!" you smiled brighter than the sun, letting out a small laugh as they all rushed you for a group hug.

And, of course, you were happy to oblige.

"It's good to see you, (y/n)," Scott greeted, he and Jean walking over.

(y/n).

The name sounded like honey on his tongue.

"Logan," Ororo smirked, elbowing her friend in the rib. "You're drooling."

The man cleared his throat, closing his mouth and averting his eyes so they couldn't embarrass him any further.

"Some of you have gotten so big since we last met!" you cheesed, pulling back to examine each of them. "And I see some new faces, too..."

But, against his will, Logan's gaze trailed back to you, Jean's speech going in one ear and out the other.

And when it landed on your face again, he realized he wasn't the only one staring.

Your soft, (e/c) eyes were trained on him as well, their flicker of curiosity and awe completely contrasting your composed demeanor.

It made him feel hot, being subject to your gaze, and he could feel himself thoughtlessly straightening his posture, making himself appear taller, and slightly larger.

You let out a silent laugh, discreetly bringing a hand to your lips to cover it, but not before letting the man get a peak of your smile once more.

Fuck, that smile.

"Can you two quit eye-fucking? It's gross," Scott groaned, joining the two on the wall.

Logan ignored him, looking toward you with a small smirk.

Something about you gave him a good feeling... like things would be different.

Maybe love could exist for him after all...

[morganbritton132]

This little idea (or this one) hasn’t left me yet so suffer through more of my ramblings.

Look, Eddie was gonna stay away from Steve.

He watched Steve swipe Billy’s keys off a table at lunch and then chuck them into the woods behind the school last week, and decided that he wants no part of that.

If King Steve is testing out teen rebellion, that’s fine but Eddie is eighteen and he doesn’t have rich boy money to bail him out when shit hits the fan. So…

He keeps his distance. He goes to class. He misses three days of school because he’s got laryngitis again. Now he’s sitting in a booth at the diner, miserably eating ice cream and watching Steve Harrington stroll in.

Steve didn’t have to sit with him. The diner was practically empty because it was 10:30AM on a Tuesday when everybody else is at school. So, no. Steve didn’t have to slide in across from him.

“I’m not driving you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says like Eddie was weird for thinking he might. “Got my car back. You sound awful, by the way.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything else because his throat is on fire, but Steve talks. He talks largely about nothing but in that way that you do when you haven’t talked to anybody in a long time which makes no sense. Steve is popular.

Eddie kinda spaces out because he doesn’t care about baseball, but his attention snaps back into focus ten minutes later when a hand clamps down on Steve’s shoulder. Steve is too casual, “Hey, Hop.”

“How’d the appointment go?” Hopper asks in a voice that sounds like it’s physically being restrained. “The MRI, right? Everything come back clear?”

“Clear as crystal, Chief,” Steve replies. “Got the uh, the A-Okay. Back to normal.”

“Uh-huh,” Hopper nods and then yanks Steve up by his shirt. “Then why’d Owens say you were a no show?”

Steve sputters. This is the first time Eddie’s ever seen him lost for words, but it doesn’t last as Steve scoffs, “That’s like a health code violation!”

He doesn’t get to say much else because Hopper pulls him out of the building. Eddie watches them argue in the parking lot and then pays his bill.

He’s leaving when Hopper marches back into the building but is luckily spared a glance from the chief. He’s not sure if Hopper even noticed him sitting there and he is fine with that.

What Eddie should do is get in his van and go home, but instead, he finds himself walking towards where Steve is waiting next to Hopper’s truck. As he gets closer, he sees that Steve is less waiting and more handcuffed to the side mirror so he can’t leave.

Steve rolls his eyes about the whole thing when he notices Eddie and then offers him a cig from the pack he stole out of the truck’s open window. Eddie shakes his head so Steve pockets the pack before asking, “You can pick a lock, right? I’ve seen you do it before.”

Eddie almost asks ‘when?’ but just sighs instead because…yes. He can.

Hopper returns to his truck five minutes later with coffee to an open handcuff dangling from his mirror. No kid in sight.

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"BIRDS OF A FEATHER"

Yall I am literally sleep deprived and I'm 90 percent sure im gonna fail my math exam. I wrote this to try and calm down but I feel like it sucks. I literally spent like 3 hours on this so be nice pls. Lmk what you think and if you have any questions! Send in asks! Love yall! Thank you for supporting my trash writing LMAO.

Prologue:,Chapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4:

The moment you stepped off the plane, a strange sense of dread washed over you. Gotham City. The place you had spent years trying to fit in. Here you were again, bound by some invisible force to the very people you had spent your life chasing after. "The Batfamily". The same family who had neglected you for years. Who had hurt you emotionally, time and time again, making you feel small and invisible. Making you feel worthless. And yet, now, they all seemed desperate to make things right. To make up for replacing you with Traitor Tiffany. Tiffany who stole your life, who copied everything you said and did to a T.

Tiffany who they loved for that year before she was exposed.

You were going to ignore them. For the next two weeks, you would just do your best to make it through, keeping your distance and focusing on the countdown to when you'd be back at boarding school in New York. That was your escape, your sanctuary.

But as you entered the manor, the familiar echo of its grand hall made you feel a strange weight in your chest. The vast space, once cold and intimidating, now felt like it was closing in on you. The walls, the grand staircase, and even the ancient floors seemed to watch you.

You barely had time to drop your bags in the entryway before you were ambushed by them. All of them.

“Hey!” Dick’s voice was light and cheerful, far too cheerful considering everything. You didn’t even look up at him, not even when he wrapped you in a tight hug. You didn't bother hugging him back. You weren’t sure if it was because you were tired, or because you just didn’t feel like dealing with his overbearing presence, but you kept your focus on your phone, fingers tapping away as you scrolled through messages from Ariel, Claire, and Rory

“You’re coming back in 2 weeks right? imy alr” “NYC is lame as fuck w out u. come back now.” “Call me literally everyday. two weeks is wayyyyy too long”

They didn’t know about this—your insanely weird family of spandex wearing losers. They didn’t know about Tiffany, or the spy drama, or how everything had shifted when you were 15 or that you were technically half snake. All they knew was that you were just you, and they loved you for it. This summer was the highlight of your life.

And now, here you were, trapped with them for two weeks, trying to figure out how to survive without completely losing your mind.

“Hey, kid” Dick repeated, taking a step closer, his words coming out strangely awkward and nervous. Good, he should be nervous. “come on. Let’s grab breakfast, yeah? You can’t be all that hungry, but we are. It’s family time. You wouldn’t want to miss it.” He smiled at you like you were a little kid.

You felt your lip curl into a slight frown, but you kept your eyes on your phone. Since when did this whole family breakfast include you?All you wanted to do right now was sleep. “I’m good. Not hungry.”

Bruce appeared from the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway before you saw his face. The expression on his face wasn’t the cold indifference you remembered. It was warm. Too warm. He tried to hug you, but you quickly dodged him like he had the cooties. He took it like a champ, brushed it off and acted like he was reaching for your Goyard.

“(Y/N),” he said quietly, like he was trying to be gentle. "We’re having breakfast together. You don’t want to miss out on the family time. It’s important that we all reconnect.”

You didn’t even look up at him. You could practically feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. Reconnect? How could they possibly want to “reconnect” after all the years of neglect? The years of pretending you didn’t exist?

“I’m just fine here,” you muttered, fingers still flying across the screen as you tried to walk up the stairs.

Bruce didn’t take the hint. “Come on. You should eat something. It’s good for you.”

You wanted to snap at him, tell him you were tired of being treated like a child. But you didn’t. You were too tired for all that. Instead, you sighed. "I said I’m fine. I ate on the plane.”

Jason’s voice cut through the tension, his ever-present smirk on his face as he sauntered into the room, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. "Damn, it’s already this bad?" He raised an eyebrow at Bruce, then smirked at you. “Come on, little bird, you’re too grown up for us now, huh? Don’t you want to at least pretend to like us? Have too much fun over in St. Tropez? Too cool to hang out with your big brother?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, suddenly annoyed. "Actually, yeah. Ya'll are lowkey losers." You were harsher than necessary but you wanted to make sure Jason got the hint. Make it known you haven't really forgiven him.

They were all obviously taken aback by your new attitude and mean girl habits, all too shocked to say anything.

Tim followed behind Jason, his ever-curious eyes flicking from you to Bruce, then to Dick. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just shrugged, settling into a lean against the wall.

“You don’t have to join us, but it’s not like you have a choice,” he added, his voice calm but firm, like he was waiting for you to push back. “We’re not letting you hide in your room forever.”

You scoffed, "So i don't have a choice. Bit of a contradiction there, smartass."

Your sure you heard Bruce mutter something about language but Tim simply side-eyed you and brushed it off, his confidence unwavering.

Cass entered next, moving quietly, as always. But her gaze, there was something in it. A kind of quiet insistence, like she wanted to make sure you didn’t slip away unnoticed. You’d always hated how silent she was, how intense her focus could be.

“Breakfast,” she said, her tone not quite a question, not quite a statement. It was just her way of saying we’re doing this, whether you want to or not.

You groaned, slumping a little as you looked up from your phone. “I’m literally only here for two weeks. I don’t need to sit with you guys at every meal. That's so lame.”

At that, Bruce stepped closer. His hand rested on your shoulder, a touch so gentle you barely felt it, but the weight of it was enough to make your heart skip. “You’re staying here for two weeks, and we’re all going to make the most of this time,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re part of this family. And that means we all spend time together. You don’t get to hide anymore.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, and you could feel the heat of everyone’s attention on you. They were all looking at you—waiting for you to say something, do something. It was unsettling. Unbearable.

You finally snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just want to talk to my friends, okay?” You waved your phone at them. “We were actually having a conversation before all of you interrupted.”

A soft laugh escaped Damian's lips, but it wasn’t kind. “You’ve got better things to do than talk to those people. You have to make up for your misconduct from last time. And tell us what you did while in St. Tropez.” There he goes again, speaking like an 80 year old man.

You felt a sudden wave of unease as you glanced at him, then at Jason and Tim. They both seemed to be looking at your phone with a sharp intensity. What was that about?

You tried to ignore it. You had to. But the more you looked at your friends’ messages, the more you realized that even your phone couldn’t offer you peace here. Bruce was standing too close. Dick’s eyes wouldn’t leave you. Tim was still leaning against the wall, his gaze locked on you with that knowing, calculating look that made your stomach twist.

Jason finally broke the silence with a lazy, teasing grin. “Don’t be a brat. You don’t need to text anyone right now, you've been gone two months. You've got me now.”

You rolled your eyes again and you couldn't stop the words from slipping out, "Oh yeah jason? How long have i got you for? Till some shiny new sister comes in? Or will you expire before that? Do I get you for 2 weeks or 3 or-"

Jason's face fell, he obviously thought he was forgiven just because of your conversation the night before you left and because you replied to his messages occasionally.

Bruce stepped forward cutting you off, taking pity on jason, "Enough. I understand your frustration, but we are trying. Let us try before you shut us out." He said his tone stern, he was demanding a chance to redeem himself, not asking.

Before you could protest, Damian spoke up, his voice still a bit too soft for comfort. “You will stay here with us. You’ll see, it’ll be better for you.”

Punk. If he was a normal kid brother, you would've long made him stop talking to you like that.

You gritted your teeth, fangs coming out and stood up from the couch, locking your phone and stuffing it into your pocket. “Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll go to breakfast. But don’t expect me to start liking all this.”

Bruce smiled, just slightly. It was subtle, but there was something behind it. Something that made your skin crawl.

“Good,” he said, his voice almost too soothing. “We’re all here for you now.”

You walked toward the dining room with Bruce close behind you, his hand on your lower back as if ensuring you wouldn't runaway, a small, constant pressure that felt both grounding and suffocating. You wanted to shrug it off, but the thought of doing that in front of the others was too much. The others who were still watching, still waiting. You could almost feel their eyes on you like they were tracking your every movement, waiting for any sign of resistance.

As you passed through the grand entryway, you could hear Alfred’s familiar voice calling from the kitchen, his tone as warm and fatherly as ever. “Ah, there you are, Young Miss. I’ve made your favorite this morning. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and Pancakes” He turned to face you with a soft smile, but it faltered when he noticed the scowl on your face. “I hope you’re feeling well. It’s important that you eat something substantial, especially after a long flight.”

You nodded noncommittally, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Alfred. I’m not really hungry, though…”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see it,” Alfred said with a knowing wink. “Come now, don’t make me chase you down for a seat.”

He motioned for you to sit at the table. Dick, already seated with a glass of juice, grinned at you like you were a little kid being coaxed into something.

“Come on, just sit,” he said, motioning to the empty chair next to him. “It’ll be fun. It’s family time, remember?”

You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. It was suffocating. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to play along with their sudden act of being a family after years of neglect. But you knew if you didn’t sit, if you didn’t comply in some way, they would only dig in their heels harder.

You sat down, pulling your chair in with a slight sigh. You didn’t want to, but it felt like the lesser of two evils. Jason gave you a little smirk from across the table, while Tim and Damian were already deeply engaged in a quiet conversation, glancing at you occasionally as if waiting to see how you'd react.

He spoke again, voice bright, like he was trying to lift the mood. "So, … what’s new with you? I bet you’ve been busy, huh? Euro summer? Did you have fun?" He smiled at you, but there was something in his eyes, something that lingered a little too long, like he was waiting for a response he had already anticipated.

You felt like a child that stole cookies from the cookie jar, "Yeah pretty fun. Didn't do much though." You shrugged trying to sound casual.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, the others falling into place around you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost searching, before he turned his attention to the food. He wasn’t pushing, not yet. But there was a quiet, insistent presence in the way he looked at you.

“You know, (Y/N), it’s not just about the food. It’s about spending time together,” Bruce said, the softness in his voice unusual, almost too gentle for someone like him. “This is important. It’s part of being a family. We’ve missed you.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t know what to say. It all felt so fake. The kindness, the attempts to bond—it was all wrapped up in a layer of suffocating control.

Dick spoke again, trying to make you crack, to bring out the oversharer in you he remembered, "Any plans? Got anything to do?"

You shrugged, offering him only a brief glance before focusing on your plate. "Nothing much. Just school stuff."

"School stuff?" Bruce’s voice cut through, the sternness returning as his eyes bore into you. "What do you mean by ‘school stuff’? You’re not getting into trouble, are you?"

Your eyes flicked to him, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was almost protective, but you didn't want that anymore. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were done with the overbearing dad act. You were 16 now—not a little girl who needed constant monitoring. You didn't need his attention, not anymore.

You picked up your fork and took a bite of the scrambled eggs, more out of habit than actual hunger. They were good, just like Alfred’s cooking always was. But the taste felt like nothing in your mouth.

“I was texting my friends,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your eyes flicking to your phone where the notifications from your friends were still blowing up. “They wanted to check I got here okay. I—”

Bruce cut you off before you could say more. “We understand that, ” he said, his voice low but firm, like a quiet warning. “But right now, you’re with us. And this time, we don’t want you distracted by those friends. You were with them for 3 months. It's family time now.”

You blinked at him, feeling a little breathless at the sudden sharpness of his words. Was that... affection? It was subtle, but it was there, in the way he spoke. It made your chest tighten. There was never family time before, at least none that included you.

“Don’t be rude,” Dick interjected, his tone light but with an edge of something else. He was looking at you more seriously now, no longer the playful older brother. “You can text your friends later. But right now, you’re here with us. And you’re going to enjoy it.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but your phone buzzed again in your pocket, and this time, it was an unknown number. You pulled it out reluctantly, glancing at the screen. It was a guy from your European trip, the french prince, one you had been texting occasionally during the summer.

But before you could even open the message, Damian’s sharp eyes caught sight of the name, and his expression hardened just slightly. He straightened, his voice suddenly tight. “Who is that?”

You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Nosy much? “None of your fucking business,” you snapped without thinking.

The room went quiet. Too quiet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, and you could feel the heat of their gazes like a thousand little pricks against your skin.

“Don’t get upset, (Y/N),” Bruce’s voice was almost soothing, but there was a new intensity to it. “We just care about you. You don’t need to talk to them all the time. You’re not going to be alone anymore.”

It wasn’t just a promise,—it was an expectation. . You realized, with growing unease, that it was a practically a threat.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Again. The sound was a welcome distraction, but you knew exactly what it was: a flood of texts from Ariel, Claire, and Rory. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you could sneak a glance without drawing too much attention. Should you risk it after what happened not even a minutes ago? But before you could decide, Bruce’s eyes locked onto yours.

“Let me see that,” he said, his voice smooth but commanding. It wasn’t a request. “Who are you talking to?”

You froze for a split second, caught off guard by his intensity. The entire table fell silent, all eyes on you. You hadn’t realized how quiet they had gotten until now.

You hesitated before responding and quickly shoved your phone out of reach. “It’s just my friends from school, the ones I spent the summer with.”

Only after you explained did you realize that you didn't owe him an explanation.

Jason raised an eyebrow, his playful tone dropping just enough to sound dangerous. “Really? Because it looks like you’re texting someone from Europe, given the country code and all.”

Your heart skipped. You had been texting Ariel, and now your friends were practically spamming you in the group chat. "The girls!!" you named it that just to be petty after leaving the one with Barbra, Cass, and Steph. You didn't even think about how it might look to the family, who had all but cornered you into their web of attention. You didn’t want to admit it, but now you felt the pressure. How long would they keep this up?

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you muttered, finally pulling your phone out and swiping away from the notifications, deciding to put it on Do Not Disturb around these psychos. You had a sudden, uncomfortable sense of guilt, like they were expecting you to explain yourself to them.

It was quiet and awkward for the rest of breakfast.

The morning after breakfast felt like an eternity. You had expected them to back off, to give you space after your little outburst, but no. The Batfamily had different plans. They were relentless. They didn’t just want to bond with you; they needed to bond with you. It was like a mission they had assigned themselves, as if they could somehow erase the years of neglect in just two weeks.

You knew better than to expect anything close to normal from them. But this was too much.

It started innocently enough, Bruce knocking on your room door, his usual stoic expression softening when he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, surrounded by your belongings. You had been trying to shut out the noise of the manor, scrolling through your phone, ignoring the countless texts from your guys you met and the relentless buzz of Gotham in your head.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, but there was a hint of something in it. Concern? Hope? You didn’t want to figure it out.

“Can we talk?”

You didn’t even look up, too busy focusing on the group chat from the girls. You weren’t ready to face him. Or anyone else. Especially not after breakfast. They all thought they had it figured out.

“You can talk to me while I’m on my phone,” you said flatly. “I’m busy.”

Bruce didn’t even flinch at your indifference. He took a step inside, shutting the door behind him as he sat on the edge of your bed. His presence felt heavy, like he was trying to make himself at home in a space that wasn’t his.

“You know, we’ve missed you, these two months felt like two years” he started softly, like that would somehow change the years of absence between you two. “I know this has been hard for you, but we’re trying. I’m trying. I’m just... trying to make up for lost time.” His hand hovered over the space next to you, but you didn’t budge.

“Stop trying so hard. You’re not going to fix anything, Bruce,” you muttered, your fingers tapping away on the screen.

“I don’t need to fix anything,” His voice was gentler now. “I just want to be here for you.”

Your eyes flicked over to him, and for a moment, you saw the guilt in his eyes. He was fighting against something, holding back. He was being real, honest. But you couldn’t let it get to you.

“I don’t need you to be here,” you said, your tone icy. “I’m not some little kid who needs you hovering over me, not anymore.”

He sighed, the disappointment in his voice sharp. "I know. I know, kid. But you are my daughter. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Not again. Especially with your..... abilities.”

The words felt like bullets, it hurt, the more he spoke the more you hurt. You just wanted him to go away.

The awkward silence that followed stretched on too long. Finally, Bruce stood up. His eyes lingered on you one last time before he opened the door. “Okay, but just know, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I'll always be here.”

For the next two weeks, the family got more insistent on spending time with. The only thing that kept you going was that it would be over soon, or so you thought.

Damian was always the silent observer. The kid who knew how to push all your buttons without saying a word, the little brother who constantly attacked and ridiculed you.

One evening, he shows up at your door, a subtle shift in his body language telling you something’s up. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s trying to break down the walls, bit by bit.

"Move over," he said, his voice devoid of its usual bite. Instead, it carried a strange urgency. He was holding a pillow, clutching onto it like a lifeline.

You narrowed your eyes, a growl rising in your throat. What the hell does he want now?

“No. What’s your problem?” You shot him a glare, rolling over on your bed, trying to make it clear you had no interest in him being there.

He didn’t move. He just stood there, waiting.

"Come on," he says flatly, crossing his arms, a rare hint of vulnerability in his tone. "It’s just for a little while. You used to bother me about this, don’t be so difficult now."

“Why are you always so insistent on being a brat? I've forgiven you for attacking me,” he muttered, stepping closer. “When we were younger, you always insisted on cuddling, begged for it even, always tried hugging me. You’ve grown up, yes, but that doesn’t mean things should change.”

When you refuse, Damian has none of it. He steps inside, closes the door behind him, and sits on your bed without asking. His demeanor is as sharp as ever, but his eyes flick to you constantly, waiting, hoping for some sign of compromise.

He walked toward the bed, pulling the blankets aside as if he was entitled to your space. You felt a flicker of that old resentment stir inside you, but the pressure of everything else, the family trying so hard to pretend everything was fine, Bruce’s repeated insistence on your bonding, the suffocating feeling that had followed you since you arrived, made you just want to give in.

You scoffed. “I grew up because you wouldn’t leave me alone when I was younger. You used to beat me up for trying to get close, remember? You literally threw me down a set of stairs. You never wanted to ‘bond’ then.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips twisting into a brief frown. “Because you were insufferable.” His voice softened, a little, but still cold. “But I’m not the same as I was. Neither are you.

And then, without warning, he scoots closer, his shoulders stiff, as if awaiting your wrath. You almost let out a laugh; he still hasn't realized that maybe you don't want the cuddles anymore. But his face betrays something else: a quiet desperation. You could almost feel his need for connection, like he’s trying to make up for all those years.

He shifts awkwardly, a hand touching his hair, trying to mimic what you once did: the slight tap on his shoulder, the gentle nudge. But as he waits for you to break, you just stare at him, no words exchanged.

And that’s when he did something you didn’t expect: he laid down beside you, just like when you did to him when you were younger. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even seem to care that you clearly were about to strangle him.

You went still, your heart pounding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into an uncomfortable cuddle. You wanted to push him off, but you couldn’t, not when he was being so vulnerable.

Instead, you just shut your eyes, and let the anger mix with the humiliation. You wouldn't admit it, but it felt nice.

Dick was the first to bombard you with affection every morning for two weeks straight. He’s like the human embodiment of sunshine, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his unrelenting kindness. He tries to coax you into breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinners... you name it. His tactic? Overload you with so much “family time” that eventually, you’ll give in.

He makes it a point to show you that he’s willing to work on your relationship. Every morning he’s there with a bright, goofy grin, telling you stories of his past adventures. He tries, in vain, to get you laughing with ridiculous anecdotes about the circus, Batman, and his early days in the Teen Titans. He stopped once you asked him for Connor's number and another topless picture if him.

At night, he tries to “reconnect” by suggesting game nights or silly activities like arts and crafts. “Come on, you loved painting when you were younger!” he’d say, pushing a small set of watercolor paints toward you, clearly hoping for a nostalgic response. But you’re not having it. You just roll your eyes and text your friends, but he stays close by, watching. He doesn’t pressure you, but you can feel his eyes lingering, waiting for the moment when you finally break.

But the moments are few, and even though you keep pushing him away, there’s a slight glimmer in his eyes every time he talks about when you’ll finally bond.

You avoided Duke like the plague, hiding everytime he came too close looking to hopeful. His betrayal was too fresh.

Jason tried to appeal to you in ways that are typical of him: snark, sarcasm, and outright bad-boy energy. He brings up old memories he knows you cherish, things that will make you cave. He walks around the manor like he owns the place, tossing out insults and lighthearted teasing every time you pass by. He’ll try to lure you into movie nights, always choosing the most ridiculously bad action movies, or challenge you to random things in the game room.

“Bet you can’t beat me in this game,” he’ll say, tossing a controller at you. “Come on, I’m the pro around here.”

It’s his way of bonding, of trying to “get you” in his own unique, unpredictable way. He also, strangely, gives you random moments of tenderness, moments that remind you of the old Jason, grabbing your shoulder when you least expect it, offering a smirk that’s soft when no one’s looking. But like everything else, it’s hard to believe this is real.

Your trust and abandonment issues ran too deep to believe any of them were genuine, though they all clearly were.

After a particularly annoying spat one day, where you ignored him all day, he jokingly announced, “If you didn’t have that attitude, maybe we could actually have a decent time. Just saying.”

In moments like that, you feel the thrum of tension in the air, the frustration of someone trying to connect with you and the knowledge that you're just too far gone to care right now. Now he felt how you did. Still, Jason's persisted and it’s obvious he won’t give up anytime soon.

Your entire existence had become one giant performance for them. The two weeks finally came to an end and so did your torture. You and the girls spent all night calling as you packed and they planned you a 'freedom celebration' that would start as soon as you got to Rory's house.

The two weeks really were torture, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to sleep, it was like you were the star of a reality show you never agreed to. Every time you tried to slip away, to find some peace of mind, they were there, trying to draw you back in.

Alfred had begun preparing “family dinners,” encouraging you to join in at the table, asking you questions about your life like they hadn’t been absent for years.

Dick insisted on taking you out on family outings, making sure you were included in everything from movie nights to visits to the Gotham Zoo.

Cass would show up randomly in your room with little presents, a sketchbook, or a necklace. “For you,” she’d say with her quiet smile, a silent plea for you to forgive them.

Tim’s persistent attempts to engage you in every intellectual conversation, trying to get you to talk about everything and nothing at once, began to feel like a strange form of manipulation.

And Jason? Jason kept throwing out random quips, trying so hard to get a rise out of you, until the sarcasm wore thin and left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t funny anymore.

You couldn't wait to leave.

The morning of your flight, Bruce called you into his office, a serious expression on his face. “Good Morning,” he began, his voice a little too calm. “I need to talk to you about something.”

You stared at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re not going back to boarding school,” he said quietly, locking eyes with you. “It’s not safe. Tiffany escaped and is working with Patience again. They’ll come for you. They’ll come for all of us.”

Your blood ran cold. Tiffany. The girl who had stolen your life. The one who had tried to replace you. The one who had made everything about her and who had tricked the Batfamily into thinking she was you. Now she was ruining your escape.

“No. I’m not staying,” you spat. “I can’t be here. I won’t be here.”

“You have to stay here,” Bruce said, his voice firm, unwavering. “For your safety.”

“You can’t do this!” you screamed, jumping up from your seat, your fangs flashing as your emotions took over. “I don’t want to stay here! I want to go back! I’ll be fine in New York! You can’t keep me here!

But Bruce wasn’t backing down. His tone remained soft, even as the finality of his words sank in. “You’re staying in Gotham. And you’ll go to Gotham Prep. It’s safer.”

“No!” You felt the weight of your anger burst out of you. The room seemed to shrink. “I’m not going to Gotham Prep. I won’t stay here. I won’t live in this—prison!”

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and angry, and you could feel the pressure building inside you, the need to break free. But as your eyes met Bruce's, you realized—he was immune. He didn’t look scared of your fangs. He didn’t fear your powers, he didn't fall into your manipulation.

You later found out from Jason that Tim and Damian had been working on a serum, after what happened with Tiffany. A serum that made them immune to your powers.

There was no escaping now, not till you were 18 and Tiffany behind bars.

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