Ada Mae

She followed your gaze across the sun-drenched quad to Theodore Nott, oblivious as ever. His thick black-rimmed glasses kept sliding down the bridge of his nose, threatening to fall into his lap. A faded grey hoodie clung to his lean frame, sporting a suspicious yellowish stain near the hem that he clearly hadn’t noticed, or just didn’t care about. He was hunched forward, excitedly tossing a shiny Pokémon card into the center of the circle where his friends sat cross-legged on the grass. The low murmur of their laughter and rapid nerd-speak drifted on the breeze.

Theo’s head lifted suddenly, as if he’d felt your stare like a physical touch. His hazel eyes met yours through those smudged lenses. For a split second his mouth parted, then he flushed—a deep, blotchy red that crawled all the way up his neck and into his ears. He quickly looked away, pushing his glasses up with a trembling finger.

In all fairness, he still wasn’t convinced you weren’t fucking with him. Every lingering glance, every time you “accidentally” brushed against him in the library, he braced for the hidden cameras. Pretty girls like you didn’t just choose guys like him unless it was the setup for some viral humiliation prank.

Just last week you’d leaned over his cluttered table in the library, your chin propped on your hand, voice soft and sweet as you asked what he was studying. The scent of your perfume, something warm and sweet with a hint of flowers? Maybe? Whatever it was had wrapped around him like a drug. When you shifted, your short skirt rode higher, the soft curve of your thighs brushing the edge of his desk. Theo had swallowed so hard it was audible, eyes squeezing shut as blood rushed south so fast he nearly saw stars.

For you, it was even worse.

Your obsession with the jittery little dork was borderline unhinged. You loved the way his breath hitched whenever you got too close, the way his long fingers fumbled with whatever he was holding, the way his voice cracked on your name. You loved how easily he blushed—how the heat would bloom across his sharp cheekbones if your eyes lingered on his mouth too long. His friends had started noticing too. The second you approached their group they scattered like startled pigeons, mumbling excuses and clutching their laptops like shields.

They weren’t used to girls like you. Hot. Confident. Short skirts and long legs and zero shame about wanting what you wanted. Usually, girls like you only appeared when they needed homework answers or test copies. You weren’t exactly fluent in their world, meaning you still didn’t fully understand half the things they argued about, but you’d been trying. Late nights scrolling through incel forums and lore wikis, watching World of Warcraft gameplay, bingeing Minecraft streamers until your eyes burned and your head ached. You’d even sat through an entire Pokémon tutorial video after Enzo had sneered at your genuine confusion about the cards.

(“They’re just pictures,” you’d said. “Aren’t you supposed to… look at them?”)

How the hell were you supposed to know?

“As a heart attack,” you grumbled, arms crossed under your chest as you watched Theo fumble another card. Frustration simmered under your skin. You’d tried everything to crack him. Sent him a Discord friend request at 2 a.m. like a complete simp. Worn that ridiculous Bulbasaur t-shirt to Tuesday’s lecture just to see his eyes widen behind those glasses. Yesterday you’d brushed your fingers along his arm in the biology hall, pretending to need help with the latest chapter, your voice low and sweet.

His reaction had been perfect—pupils blowing wide, breath hitching into a shaky little gasp as he looked up at you. Those big doe eyes, framed by smudged scratched lenses, had locked onto yours while he launched into a breathless, overly detailed lecture on cellular respiration. You hadn’t heard a single word. The only biology you cared about was how those long, clever fingers would feel sliding between your thighs, and whether that pretty mouth would sound as wrecked as you imagined when he finally fell apart.

You wanted to climb Theo Nott like a damn tree.

Listen, okay? You’d never had great taste in men.

You wanted to press him back against his messy dorm bed, feel his lean body tremble under yours, and discover exactly how breathy and broken his moans would sound against the shell of your ear. You wanted to find out if those deft fingers that were always flying over keyboards and notebooks, were as good at curling inside you as they were at coding. You wanted to ruin him, slowly, thoroughly, until the shy, stuttering nerd was reduced to nothing but desperate, needy sounds and slick skin.

And he wanted you too. You could tell, duh. His gaze would drag down the length of your legs when he thought you weren’t looking, tongue darting out to wet his lips whenever you swirled yours around a cherry sucker in the library. The way his throat bobbed, the faint flush that crept down his neck… yeahh he wasn’t fooling anyone.

What you didn’t know was how badly it was destroying him.

Theo was mortified, convinced that the second you actually touched him—really touched him—he’d absolutely humiliate himself. There was no way someone like you would still want him after he came in his pants from just five seconds of your hand on his thigh. He’d grown depraved these past weeks, almost feral with it, and you remained gloriously, frustratingly oblivious.

Nights blurred together in his dimly lit dorm room. He’d skip raids with the boys, cock already leaking in his fist as he pulled up your Instagram like some kind of cyber stalker. Pretty moans spilled from his lips. Soft, broken, embarrassingly loud, stroking himself clumsily to your latest photos. The way your skirt rode up in that one story. The curve of your tits in that tight top. He’d cum hard across his own stomach, chest heaving, whispering your name as if he’d ever muster the courage to speak a full sentence to you.

Mornings were worse. He’d wake from yet another wet dream, your thighs squeezing his head, your voice purring filthy praise—and find himself painfully hard, sheets sticky with sweat and precum. He couldn’t even leave his bed until he wrapped his hand around his aching cock again, jerking himself off with frantic, uncoordinated strokes while the memory of your perfume still haunted him. Physics homework sat untouched on his desk. Again.

He was losing his fucking mind, his big brain diluted to mush at the mere thought of you.

Pansy groaned theatrically as you pushed up from the table, barely tossing a “see ya” over your shoulder before striding across the quad with purpose. Theo noticed you the second you started moving. His whole body locked up, shoulders rigid, glasses slipping down his nose as his friends actually scattered like startled mice. Cards and laptops were shoved into bags in record time, leaving him painfully, obviously alone on the grass. See the friends he has? He literally needed you, now how to make him see that? No clue.

You dropped down beside him without invitation, close enough that your bare thigh brushed the side of his knee. Up close he was even prettier, unfairly so. Those chapped, bitten lips looked soft and nervous. A faint trace of his natural musk—warm skin and something faintly clean and boyish—cut through the cheap body spray he’d clearly over-applied this morning. When you reached out and gently pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with two fingers, he flinched like you’d burned him, a visible shiver racing down his spine.

“Heyyy, Teddy,” you purred, letting the nickname roll off your tongue slow and sweet. It slid up his back like ice water and settled hot in his cheeks.

“H-Hey,” he managed, voice cracking adorably.

You tilted your head, letting your gaze drag deliberately down his frame before meeting his eyes again. “I was thinking… tonight, maybe I could come by your dorm and watch that movie you were talking about?”

Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Y-You want to come over? To my dorm? To watch… Tron?” His eyes couldn’t possibly get any wider. He cleared his throat hard, like he was fighting for air. “I—um. I kind of have a—”

He swallowed the pathetic excuse he’d been about to give. The raid. Ten people had finally agreed to show up tonight. He tipped his head back toward the clear blue sky, stomach twisting in a brutal war between losing his virginity to the girl of his filthiest dreams and losing every friend he had.

You wanted to swallow that nervous little waver in his voice. Wrap your lips around it until the only sounds he could make were broken moans.

Instead you let your lower lip push out in a soft pout. “I thought since we’re friends now we should actually hang out… unless we aren’t friends?”

“No!” The word burst out of him, far too loud. He winced. “We—we are!”

“Great.” You smiled, bright and victorious, already rising to your feet. “I’ll be over at seven.”

Theo sat frozen on the grass long after you walked away, heart hammering against his ribs and his cock already half-hard in his jeans at the mere thought of you in his dorm room. Alone. On his bed.

He was so so fucked. In more ways than one, if you get my drift.

You were practically skipping down the sidewalk a few hours later. It was only 6:40, but you couldn’t wait any longer. You’d chosen an outfit that walked the perfect line. Cute enough to say ‘hey i want to jump your bones’, casual enough to say I’m just here for a movie, duh. A tight pink long-sleeve top hugged your curves, the neckline low enough that every shift threatened to spill soft cleavage. Black yoga pants clung to your ass and thighs like a second skin; if you bent juustt right, the faint outline of the delicate lace set underneath showed through. You’d stopped for Thai food on the way, the warm bag swinging at your side, the scent of coconut curry and lemongrass drifting up.

Your knock was light but deliberate, just loud enough to cut through the frantic spiral inside Theo’s head. He froze mid-pace when he realized you were early—way too early. His friends had spent the entire afternoon roasting him, one of them dramatically claiming his cat had better be dead if he bailed on the raid. He did feel guilty. Painfully guilty, considering he was the clan leader.

Not guilty enough to cancel.

He’d taken an excessively long shower, scrubbed his skin raw, then stood in front of his closet for twenty agonizing minutes before settling on a plain black t-shirt and black sweatpants—safe, neutral, hopefully not as pathetic as his normal wear. He’d almost put in contacts, then remembered the way you’d once complimented his glasses and decided to leave them on. He’d picked his cuticles until they bled. Cleaned the tiny dorm room six times. Lit a suspiciously floral candle he’d stolen from his roommate’s drawer. Even bought condoms, face burning crimson at the checkout while the bored cashier definitely judged him.

He was going to throw up. Maybe then you’d finally stop looking at him like that. If he puked on your shoes, surely the spell would break.

But you wouldn’t mind. You found his nervous trembling almost unbearably endearing.

The door finally cracked open. A soft, mortified squeak escaped Theo’s throat.

How the hell was he supposed to survive an entire night with you looking like this?

You smiled, slow and warm, holding up the takeout bag like a peace offering. “Hope you like Thai. I brought options.”

Theo’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. His eyes flicked from your face to the deep neckline of your top, then quickly away, ears scarlet. “Y-Yeah. Thai’s… good.”

The room was smaller than you expected when he ushered you to his room, too mortified to risk his roommate seeing you. A narrow twin bed, one desk buried under textbooks and glowing monitors, the faint sweet scent of the stolen candle mixing with his clean-soap-and-boy smell. You set the food down and kicked off your shoes while he hovered, hands flexing uselessly at his sides.

You ate cross-legged on the floor first, making sure to lean forward so the soft swell of your breasts pressed against your arms. Theo barely touched his food. Every time your knee brushed his from next to him his breath would hitch, a tiny, involuntary sound that sent heat curling low in your belly.

Afterward you patted the edge of his bed. “Movie?”

He nodded jerkily, nearly tripping over his own feet as he set up his laptop. The opening credits of Tron glowed across the screen while you both settled against the headboard. At first there was a careful foot of space between you. Then you shifted closer under the pretense of getting comfortable, your bare foot brushing his ankle. He stiffened.

A few minutes later you leaned in again, this time letting your thigh press fully against his. The heat of his body radiated through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. You could feel the faint tremor running through his leg.

Theo’s breathing had already changed—shallower, faster, full blown panicked. His fingers gripped the edge of the blanket like it was a lifeline. When you tilted your head and let your shoulder rest against his, he swallowed so hard you heard it. The clean, musky scent of his skin filled your lungs every time you inhaled.

You slid your hand onto his thigh, innocent at first, just resting there. His muscles jumped under your palm.

“Relax, Theo,” you murmured, voice low and sweet against the glow of the screen. You rubbed a slow, soothing circle with your thumb. “It’s just a movie.”

Just a movie. Righttt. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breath trembling out in quiet, terrified little exhales. Up close you could see the rapid flutter of his pulse in his throat, the way his lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find air. He was rock-hard beneath those sweatpants—you could feel the thick line of him twitching against the fabric near your wrist—but he didn’t dare move, frozen between overwhelming want and soul-crushing embarrassment.

You smiled against his shoulder and pressed a little closer, breasts brushing his arm, until your bodies were flush from hip to shoulder. His terrified breathing only grew faster.

One of his favorite movies was playing on the laptop, but it might as well have been static. Theo’s brain had gone completely offline. All he could focus on was the mortifying possibility that you’d glance down, lift the blanket, and see the obvious, aching tent straining against his black sweatpants. When your hand slid higher up his thigh, a soft, pathetic whimper escaped his throat. His head snapped toward you, the movie long forgotten.

“Are you nervous, Teddy?” you asked, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. You were much too good at this, the torture thing.

He nodded so fast his glasses slipped down his nose again. His eyes were glassy, waterline shimmering with overwhelmed tension. He wasn’t just shaking, oh no, he was full blown vibrating beside you, every muscle coiled tight like he might shatter.

“Why don’t you touch me too?” you whispered, voice velvet-soft. “It might help.”

You took his trembling hand and guided it onto your thigh. The first real contact of his warm palm against your leg sent a spark buzzing straight between yours. His fingers flexed instinctively, then stilled.

“I-I don’t… I’ve never—” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“Do you want to?”

“Fuck, y-yes.”

The raw honesty in that desperate little curse made you smile. You kept your hand over his, slowly dragging his palm up and down the smooth fabric of your yoga pants. After a few guided strokes he started moving on his own, clumsy and reverent, exploring the shape of your thigh like it was something sacred. His breath came in short, ragged bursts against your hair.

When his fingertips drifted higher and brushed the apex of your thighs, he felt the unmistakable damp heat seeping through the thin material. A shocked little sound slipped from his lips.

“I-Is that… because of—um—”

“Because of you,” you hummed, pressing your thighs together around his hand for a moment. “Mhmm. Feel how wet I am for you?”

Theo made another broken noise, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his fingers flexed again, instinctively pressing harder against your soaked core through the fabric. His cock twitched hard in his sweatpants, a wet spot already forming at the tip. His breathing was frantic now—fast, terrified, and so turned on it sounded like he was seconds from actually hyperventilating. The scent of your arousal mixed with the candle and his own warm skin, thick and heady in the small room.

“Oh,” Theo gasped as you swung a leg over him and flipped onto his lap. Your thighs bracketed his hips, your soaked heat pressing firmly against his abdomen through the thin layers between you. The weight of you on top of him short-circuited his too big brain.

“Kiss me,” you whispered.

He squeezed his eyes shut, too embarrassed to admit he’d never done that either. It didn’t matter. The truth was obvious the second your mouths met. His lips were warm and soft, but his tongue was clumsy and eager, unsure where to go until you took control. You threaded your fingers into his messy hair, tugging just hard enough to make him whimper into your mouth. You licked inside, slow and deep, tasting him while he surrendered completely—melting, letting you lead.

The first moan you fed into his mouth sounded sweeter than any fantasy he’d ever jerked off to.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, lips brushing his jaw. “Good boy,” you murmured.

Theo’s reaction was visceral. His hips jerked up hard, grinding his painfully hard cock against your core. You moaned at the friction, your aching cunt throbbing against the rigid length of him through his sweatpants.

Then you were kissing him again, deeper, hungrier, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles. The wet heat of you dragged along his clothed erection over and over, the soaked fabric of your yoga pants and lace panties doing nothing to hide how much you wanted him.

And then..

Every one of Theo’s worst nightmares crashed into reality.

His whole body went rigid beneath you. A loud, desperate moan tore from his throat, muffled against your lips as thick, hot spurts of cum flooded his sweatpants. You could feel every pulse of his cock, the sudden wet warmth spreading beneath you as he came untouched, shaking and whimpering through it.

You moaned right back, grinding harder, chasing the filthy friction while he was still twitching and sensitive. “Fuck… that’s so hot,” you breathed against his mouth.

“I didn’t—oh my god, I’m so sorry—please kill me,” he squeaked, voice cracking with humiliation. His eyes were squeezed shut, cheeks burning crimson, glasses fogged and crooked.

You grabbed his jaw firmly, forcing him to look at you. When his eyes finally opened all half-lidded, dazed, glassy with aftershocks. He was floored to find nothing but raw lust on your face.

Yeah, you were definitely some fucked up form of his imagination come to life.

Oh but you were so aroused, almost painfully, by his little show of zero self restraint. You’d never made someone cum just from kissing and a little grinding before.

Major ego boost.

“Do you want to fuck me, Theo?” Your voice had gone husky, sending a sharp thrill racing under his skin.

Theo couldn’t form words. He just nodded frantically, fingers digging desperately into your hip as he stared up at you, completely shell-shocked.

You peeled your top off slowly, then tossed your bra across the room. Your tits spilled free—soft, perfect, even better than every filthy fantasy he’d stroked himself raw to. Theo’s mouth fell open. His jaw slacked as he realized what all the hype was about.

“Holy shit,” he moaned, eyes wide and heated. He was dangerously close to cumming again untouched.

You shimmied out of your sticky yoga pants and soaked panties, then climbed back onto him completely naked. The wet heat of your bare cunt dragged along his clothed thigh and he nearly blacked out.

“This can’t be real. You can’t be real.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm his racing heart, but they flew open again a second later, unable to stay away from the sight of you.

When your fingers reached for the hem of his shirt, self-consciousness slammed into him like a truck. “W-Wait—”

“C’mon, baby,” you cooed, “I want to see you too.”

Baby.

The word made him all stupid. You tugged his shirt off, then dragged his ruined sweatpants down to his ankles in one swift motion, leaving him dizzy and exposed.

You were real. You had to be. Because your lips were trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his chest and stomach, your filthy little tongue dragging over his skin until you reached the dark trail of hair at the base of his cock. You wanted to tease him longer—you really did—but the aching need between your legs won out.

He was heavy and thick in your hand when you wrapped your fingers around him. Theo squeaked at the contact, still painfully sensitive from his earlier orgasm. He was way too big to be such a hopeless nerd. This cock didn’t belong to someone with a $2,000 gaming setup and a Pokémon card collection hidden in his closet, i mean come on.

And fuck, it was pretty—flushed pink at the tip, still glistening with the remnants of his cum, veins standing out against pale skin.

You dragged the swollen head through your soaked folds, coating him in your slick, then started sinking down. And realized quickly you’d overestimated how easily you could take him.

The noise Theo made was almost concerning—a choked, guttural sound that made you pause and raise an eyebrow. In all the porn he’d watched, every late-night fanfic he’d read, nothing had prepared him for this. Your cunt was velvet-soft and molten, squeezing the life out of his cock as you sank down just a few inches.

“F-Fuck. Don’t move,” you whimpered, your dominant edge cracking under the sheer stretch of him. He was so big it bordered on ridiculous, forcing your walls open wider than you’d been ready for.

Theo’s hand skimmed slowly up your waist, over your hip, then your stomach—still trembling, still nervous, but watching you struggle seemed to flip some switch inside him. For once, he found his voice.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” he said, small but steady, eyes full of pure adoration.

You guided his shaky hand to your breast. He cupped it gently, then started massaging under your direction, thumb brushing over your nipple until he found the rhythm that made you moan.

“Mmm, that’s it… fuck,” you breathed.

You kept sinking down, agonizingly slow, taking him inch by inch while he fought not to move. The wet, obscene sounds of your slick cunt stretching around him filled the small dorm room, mixing with his ragged, terrified breathing and your soft, broken whimpers. Whimpers that he, Theodore Nott, was pulling from you. He was actually on cloud 9.

You sank the final few inches with a slow, deliberate roll of your hips until you were fully seated on his cock. Theo’s eyes rolled back, a wrecked groan tearing from his throat as your tight, fluttering walls enveloped every inch of him. The wet, velvety heat was almost too much. He felt like he was drowning in you.

A sharp, pained squeak slipped from your lips when the fat head of his cock pressed hard against your cervix. “You’re so big,” you whimpered, voice breathy and stunned.

Were you trying to kill him???? His hips twitched upward involuntarily, cock pulsing deep inside you. He looked up at you with wide, terrified eyes, glasses crooked, cheeks flushed dark red, like he still couldn’t believe any of this was happening.

You reached between your bodies and started rubbing tight circles over your swollen clit, rolling your hips in slow, shallow bounces. The stretch burned in the best way, every movement dragging him along your sensitive walls. Theo’s hands flexed on your thighs, fingers digging in as he fought the overwhelming urge to.. cry??

“Can I…?” His voice was hoarse. “I want to touch you there.”

You nodded, a little shocked, moving your hand. He replaced it with his own, clumsy at first. Way too hard and too fast, jabbing at your sensitive nub in a way that almost made you hit him. The pressure bordered on overwhelming, but you guided him with soft moans and little corrections until he found the right rhythm, slick sounds filling the room as his fingertips worked your clit. He’s a fast learner, obviously!

Your bounces grew faster, harder. The wet plap plap plap of skin meeting skin echoed lewdly off the dorm walls with every drop of your hips. His confidence slowly built, his free hand gripping your waist, eyes locked on the way your tits bounced and your face twisted in pleasure.

Without warning, he flipped you onto your back, still buried deep inside you. You gasped at the sudden shift, legs falling open around him. At first his thrusts were messy and uncoordinated, to be real honest, he sucked. His hips stuttering, thrust too shallow, his lanky body a bit too awkward. Just when you were about to roll your eyes and flip him back, he found a deep, steady rhythm that had you moaning louder, nails digging into his back.

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half as he drove into you harder. His mouth was everywhere—messy, open-mouthed kisses pressed to your neck, your tits, the soft skin of your thighs—wherever he could reach while he fucked you. The new angle made his cock hit that spongey spot inside you with every thrust, the head nudging your cervix in a way that made sparks explode behind your eyes.

Theo felt like he was on top of the world when your cunt clamped down around him and you came hard, back arching, a broken cry of his name spilling from your lips. The feeling of you pulsing and gushing around his cock was too much.

“Fuck—oh no, oh god—” He tried to pull out, but it was too late. His hips stuttered, burying himself to the hilt as thick ropes of cum flooded deep inside you. He kept thrusting through it in shallow, greedy strokes, hands roaming everywhere—squeezing your tits, gripping your ass, stroking your waist like he couldn’t. stop. touching. you.

The second the haze cleared, panic crashed over his face.

“I—I didn’t mean to—oh my god, I forgot the condom,” he stuttered, still buried inside you, cock twitching with the last weak spurts. “I’m so sorry—I bought them, they’re right there, I just—fuck, you feel so good and I couldn’t—please don’t hate me—”

He looked genuinely horrified, but his hands were still greedily feeling you up, thumbs brushing over your nipples, palms sliding over your hips like he couldn’t bear to stop. Actually, he was certain this could be the first and last time he touches a woman, especially one that looks like you.

You burst into laughter. Bright, breathless, almost hysterical, as Theo’s panicked apologies tumbled out. The sound was warm and fond, vibrating through your chest as you grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him down into a deep, messy kiss. He melted instantly, whimpering into your mouth while his softening cock—still buried inside you—twitched with oversensitive little aftershocks.

You kept kissing him until he was panting against your lips, hips starting to rut again in shallow, nervous movements. The wet slide of his spent cock through your cum-filled cunt made him hiss, but he couldn’t stop, grinding against that perfect heat like he was addicted already. He was addicted already.

When you finally let him breathe, he buried his face in your neck, voice muffled and shy. “C-Can I… um… eat you out?” He swallowed hard. “Can you teach me?”

Your smile widened, a fresh wave of heat curling low in your belly. “Never let the world change you, Theo.” His puzzled and confused look only made you giggle, your eyes soft as you shoved at his shoulders.

You guided him down your body with gentle hands in his hair. Theo’s glasses were fogged and crooked, absolutely impossible to see out of, but he didn’t care. The second his mouth hovered over your dripping cunt, the sight of his own thick cum leaking out of you drew a wrecked moan from deep in his chest.

“Just lick,” you murmured, voice husky. “You can’t mess up.”

He obeyed instantly. His tongue dragged through your folds in one long, experimental stripe, collecting the messy mix of his cum and your arousal. The filthy, salty-sweet taste made him moan loudly against you, eyes fluttering shut as he dove back in with more enthusiasm. He was clumsy—messy, eager, sucking and licking like a man who hadn’t eaten in weeks—but the vibrations of his desperate sounds and the way he pressed his face deeper, nose bumping your clit, had your thighs shaking around his head within minutes.

Theo ate his own orgasm out of you with filthy, wet sounds, moaning and whimpering the whole time like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open while he licked and sucked greedily, pushing his tongue inside you to chase every drop.

You lay back against his pillows, fingers tangled in his messy hair, chest heaving with pleasure and satisfaction.

How the fuck did Vanessa cheat on this man?

You’d known Dick ever since he and Vanessa were in the early stages of dating around two years ago, and you hated to admit it, but he was one objectively sexy man. Who was sat there with a cappuccino in a local Blüdhaven coffee shop, looking the most tortured you’d ever seen him, over a girl who cheated, nonetheless.

You sipped your latte. “You look like shit, Dick.” Your voice was softer than intended. Maybe a portion of you felt bad. “What’re you thinking?”

He scrubbed his face. “I’m sorry, I— I didn’t mean to drag you out here to sit in silence, I’m just… confused. How could she— did I do something?”

You sat forward in your seat, raising an eyebrow, sighing. “Really?” You clicked your tongue noncommittally. “You’re gonna blame yourself for this? Dick, you got her expensive jewellery to ask her to be your girlfriend, you were pretty fucking perfect.” He’d done the research. Seen what colour jewellery she wore, if she preferred gold or silver, her birthstone, what cut, how long, and got it custom made. If he did anything wrong, you’d be surprised. “It’s her fault.”

He looked sceptical. He even let out a disbelieving scoff, like you were talking bullshit. “You don’t seem heartbroken. Like, at all.”

You shrugged, stirring your latte with a wooden stick. “If she can take him, she can have him. Carter couldn’t do anything without his mother’s approval anyway.”

His nose wrinkled. “Yikes. That sounds rough.”

"Why'd you offer to buy me coffee anyway?" His text had come out of nowhere, but he probably had his reasons. One or two at least.

His sigh was of defeat as he rubbed a sugar packet between his fingers, rubbing the back of his neck with another hand. “I just— you got caught up in my ex-girlfriend’s shit, and it felt unfair.”

You gestured to him. “You got caught up in my ex best friend and my ex-boyfriend’s shit, so arguably, I should be paying for this.”

“But I already paid.”

“So let’s go out for a drink sometime.” You shrugged. “I wanted to get wasted and forget about this anyway, might as well take you with me.”

His grin was blinding, the kind of thing Vanessa used to giggle about when she first met him. “A little too soon to go out for drinks, huh?”

“It’s a proposition.” You laughed, shrugging. “Drinks on me. Let’s go tomorrow.”

Dick had been used to fancy hotel bars, at least whenever Bruce had thrown parties with bars included. The ones where the bartenders wore suits and ties with top shelf liqueurs.

He felt a sort of thrill when you dragged him into a bar on the corner of 6th, one with dim, flickering warm lights that clashed with blue and purple ones. The bartender wore plaid, spoke in a thick Boston accent, had an unkempt five-o’clock shadow. The bar top was wooden and chipped, and on the makeshift dance floor were plenty of drunk people grinding on each other.

“Oh, this is amazing,” He couldn’t help but smile widely, turning to you. “There are places like this in Gotham?”

“Yes, Mr Trust Fund— Scott!” You flagged down the bartender. “Can we get a round of shot roulette?”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Scott flashed you a smile, wiping down a glass before heading to set up the shot roulette.

Dick turned to you, leaning on the bar slightly, tracing the wood grain with his finger. “So, you come here often?”

You perched yourself on a barstool, prompting him to do the same. Something that sounded like 50 Cent was playing on the speakers in the corners, bass thrumming in the back of your mind. “Oh, all the time. Best place in Gotham.” The shots were slid in front of you, and you both grabbed the glass and chucked it back, both of you humming. “Huh.”

“Kind of… fruity.” He mused, staring at the shot glass, putting it down. He glanced at you through his stupidly long and pretty lashes, clearing his throat. “How did you find out that… never mind.”

You chased the alcohol down with water. “I got a photo of a girl fucking Carter.” You scoffed lightly. “I saw a tattoo on her upper thigh that I’d paid for when we were in college.”

He ran a hand through his hair, huffing. “Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry— she just came clean to me. Maybe after you found out.”

“It’s not your fault.” You said lightly, waving your hand. “It’s theirs. They couldn’t keep it in their pants, Vanessa had a great, hot guy and she lost him, so…”

He couldn’t help his soft smile. “You’re gorgeous too, you know. Carter doesn’t know what he lost.” His eyes flicked down, to your lips, then to a barely working lightbulb like a moth would. But you caught it.

Your teeth snagged your bottom lip.

Vanessa made a huge mistake.

Dick’s hand was firmly on your jaw, leaned over the centre console of his Bentley so his lips could slot easily against yours. Your hand was carding into the floppy strands of his hair, swallowing each other’s heavy breaths. His cologne was deliciously clouding your senses, the hand not on your jaw reaching behind you to grab at your ass, squeezing, teasing your bottom lip with his warm tongue. His mouth separated from yours to burn down your neck, laving your pulse, pressure on your jaw gone in favour of tugging your shirt down over one shoulder to palm your tits over your bra.

“Your apartment is,” You paused to moan quietly, tugging his hair as a keep going, “literally right there. We can — fuck — get comfy.”

He nodded into your neck, brushing your skin with his lips one more time before looking you in the eye. “Good idea.”

You couldn’t remember how you actually got into his apartment, but you did remember stripping him of his clothes and pushing him down onto his bed, unclasping your bra. He hummed, biting his lip. “I have an idea.”

“I’m all ears.” You breathed, your breathing stuttering as you ground your panties-covered pussy over his boxers-covered cock.

His hand slid over the back of your neck, encouraging you closer. “Let’s send them a photo,” He murmured, pecking your lips, his nose rubbing against yours. “You know. Revenge.”

Your hand was already scrambling for your phone, switching to selfie mode just as he smashed his lips to yours, your thumb hitting the circular button and taking the photo. “Good?”

“Yeah, fuck, that’s hot,” He nodded, tugging you so he could kiss you, middle finger reaching down to rub at your entrance over your panties. “You’re soaked, shit, sweetheart,” He reached up and tugged, sliding down the lace covering your pussy with his pointer until they slipped off, lazily chucking your panties into the corner of his room. “C’mere.” He grabbed your hips and pulled you till your pussy was right above his mouth.

Wait what— fuck.

His mouth wrapped around your clit as two fingers pushed into your cunt, practically sucking his fingers in, dear God. Your head fell back, mouth dropping open as a surprised moan left you, hand shooting to grip his hair. He groaned, deep in his throat, other hand pressing on the small of your back to encourage you to grind your clit on his tongue that was circling and pressing on your clit.

“O—Oh, Dick—”

“Yeah, that’s right, give it to me, baby.” He moaned, yanking his fingers out, and just before you could protest at the loss of anything filling your aching pussy, he thrusted his tongue into you, flicking at your clit with his thumb, his nose bumping occasionally against you. The taste of you on his tongue made him want to sing your praises, but it came out muffled, the vibrations making your hips twitch and eyes roll back.

Repeated cries of “yes” punctuated by your broken moans fuelled his ego and his already painfully hard dick. With your walls fluttering around his tongue fucking into you, he’d say you were fairly close.

A lot of things were going through your head. Like how this was a stellar pussy eating. How Carter refused to let any part of his face touch your vagina. How Dick was so willing and drinking your arousal up like it was the gods’ nectar.

You were coming on his tongue soon enough, pulling at his hair to make him moan and lap at your cunt faster, slicking his lips and chin.

A minute later, he was still kitten licking you clean, and as much as the stimulation made you stroke his hair and whisper praise, you needed to get a move on. So you pulled yourself away from his mouth, pulling down his boxers while he whined and pawed at your hips to try and bring you back.

“M’ not done— fuuuuck,” His head dropped back into the pillows, giving way for the weight, as you sank down onto his waiting cock. Your warm walls wrapping around him, making his head spin before he snapped into reality. His hands took hold of your hips again, helping you move on him, thumbs kneading your skin as you dragged up and down his dick.

He hadn’t felt like this before. Your lips were on his neck, leaving kiss prints on his skin, from his chest to his jaw and around his lips. Raising your phone and clicking a photo of his fucked-out grin as you rode him, thumb hovering over send to Vanessa.

“You ok with this?” Your voice was uncharacteristically soft, circumstantially breathy, your nails raking down his abs and making him shiver.

He grabbed the phone, pressed send himself, propping himself up so he could take one of your tits into his mouth, sucking to stifle his shamelessly loud moans. Wasn’t working. “Mhm— ride my fucking dick, gorgeous,” He gasped between switching to your other tit, laving over your skin with his tongue. “Just like that, so perfect, honey.”

His mouth running away with him told you he was close, his thumb reaching to rub circles on your clit propelled you that much further, but you refused to come twice before he had even once, so you pulled his head away from your tits, bit his earlobe and sucked a mark behind his ear.

He shuddered and groaned your name, hot come spilling into you — morning after pill, here we come — and the twitch of his cock sent you straight after him, his mouth slamming sloppy into yours, gripping the back of his neck while his tongue slid over your lower lip and his lips following straight after.

You milked him for all he had, until you were both panting and he was staring up at you through his lashes like he wanted to fuck you on all fours. “Wanna go again?”

“We’ve got time.”

carter -> you carter : c'mon, baby, let's talk about it you know i love you she didn't mean anything i swear i can't live without you sweets you : she's busy. carter : doing what???? who is this ??? you : fucking me. it's dick, btw ;) carter : vanessa's ex? you piece of shit give the phone back to her [ blocked ]

vanessa -> dick vanessa : you're really gonna throw years away for that bitch ?you're mine i want you back let's talk about this i miss you so bad we can go to couples counselling, work on our problems together you weren't really fulfilling my needs, i had to look out for myself dick : for a guy who wasn't 'fulfilling your needs' nessie he sure was fulfilling mine vanessa : youre such a bitch to think you were my best friend fucking my EX ??? could you go any lower ?? dick : *you're vanessa : UGH

the funny thing about saying something out loud is that it solidifies itself by whoever heard it.

being caught off guard and saying something you’d never really considered before and it takes root in your life as your word is held against you. something about this whole situation reminded you of the fundamentals of primary school and the golden rules you were supposed to follow.

treat others the way you want to be treated.

think before you speak.

something must’ve gotten lost in translation because everything seems to be going to shit.

back inside of the house, jason is nowhere to be found.

you duck into his room, check grayson’s, and then ultimately decide to check back downstairs again. nothing. pulling out your phone to call jason when you run into grayson, walking right into him as you descend down the stairs.

“woah, slow down,” he holds your shoulders straight, “where are we going?”

waving your phone around vaguely, “i was looking for jason but i think he left?”

grayson nods, “yeah. he went on a liquor run with roy and wally.”

“huh,” nodding back, you hum, “liquor run.”

“yeah, it’s a pool party this time so guaranteed need a couple kegs and something strong for shots.” continuing while you walk with him to the now fixed window and shooing away barry and oliver who were standing way too close to comfort. “and whoever did this shit is gonna get their ass beat when i find them.”

“makes sense.” you barely reply, watching as people move around you but not really paying attention.

the last few days have been, eventful to say the least. then hal threw in that curveball that just caused another spiral of what you and jason even were. he apologized, yes, and of course you want jason. you’ll always want jason but you’ve spent so much time now on him, trying to get over him to no avail. weeks of your life distancing yourself only to get pulled back to him again.

saying yes to hal felt like more of an unconscious decision than you actually wanting to date him.

it’s probably mean but he threw you off when he suddenly asked you out and it almost felt like a sign. that you had options and that not being with jason wasn’t the end of the world even if it felt like it. maybe hal could give you some perspective.

it’s not like hal jordan is ugly by any means. you’ve seen him without a shirt and he’s insanely ripped, much like grayson is. he’s pretty too, the kind that would make anyone do a double take.

but in the back of yours mind you still knew.

he’s not jason.

“hey,” grayson suddenly says, “you keep zoning out on me.”

you turn to face him, “yeah, sorry.”

he shakes his head and points a finger at your forehead, “don’t apologize. what’s going on in that head of yours?”

with a heavy sigh and no patience left to lie, “i hooked up with jason again.”

grayson’s eyes widen, “oh, i didn’t need to know that—” he sighs, “uh, isn’t that a good thing?”

you nod slowly, “i think so.”

from behind the two of you, the party began to get bigger. glassing clinking and laughter ringing. roaring music as tim whispered something in connor’s ear and he clicked away on his phone. hal had already joined the crowd with his shirt crooked on his body and a hand clasped around a beer. the front door was opening and closing more than you could count and the bodies stacking inside were more than the previous ones you’d been to probably because it was the last one of the school year. but jason wasn’t back yet.

someone bumps into you from behind and touches your waist to steady you from falling.

“oops sorry. ‘m a clutz.” laughing as she lets go of your side to get a better look at you. “wait, i know you!”

she smiles bright, her hair dark and beautiful. her eyes had the prettiest sparkle to them. you blink at the girl in front of you and exchange a glance with grayson.

“are you in my program?” you ask.

grayson cuts in, “no, this is donna. you met her at the last party.”

you nod slowly as the gears turn you recognize her face from spin the bottle. “oh, hey. sorry.”

“you were dating jason right?” a clear slur in her voice that told you’d she’d been drinking for a while before getting here, “ugh i was talking to roy and he’s such a dog. both of them are honestly. i just can’t believe jason made that bet about you seriously. all my sisters are uber pissed and swore to keep away for at least another week.”

your stomach drops at her words and the creeping feeling of embarrassment takes form. though another form of jealousy crept too.

“you all heard?” you ask quietly.

donna nods immediately, “of course, everyone kinda did. but and of course roy is still up jade’s ass so whatever.”

she doesn’t notice how you’re demeanour shifts just barely. the creeping unease from everyone knowing your existence from a bet, no matter how much reassurance jason gave you. it was finally in front of you. you’d seen how you’re known to people you don’t really even know—as a joke.

twisting his head slightly, dick read how her words were hitting you before you’d even said anything yourself. he gestures to her hand quickly. “you’re drinking pink whitney?”

she shrugs and holds her cup up, “of course. don’t act like it’s not good.”

“never said that it’s just banned from this frat. too many bad memories.”

a distant shout makes grayson turn his attention that way again. when you turn too, you see conner with blood dripping down his neck and a face palming tim. the needle in conners hand is barely visible from where you were but you could see enough to know he was adjusting a new piece of metal in his lip, matching the other side.

he pierced himself and didn’t even seem fazed.

“for fucks sake,” grayson murmurs under his breath before putting hand up to both of you and storming over towards them.

“i told him not to do it,” tim sighs and shrugs while conner looks pleased with himself, already tonguing at the snake bite.

grayson grabs the towel and holds it to his lip himself, like the responsible guy he tries to be. “this is the last time you pierce yourself dude. just go to the fucking tattoo parlor across the street.”

beneath the paper towel, conner laughs but it comes out more muffled, “‘n pay sixty-five bucks? ya right.”

you’d probably been smiling at their interaction or just tuned out so much that donna tapped you again.

“do you want get a drink too? i’m basically out.”

glancing towards the front door once more, like it could bring jason back faster, you slowly nod. the two of you move towards the kitchen and donna starts talking about astrology and zodiac signs. she explains how her sign is compatible with most people but you don’t quite remember what her sign even was from how fast she talked. by the time she’s pouring you a drink in a solo cup and handing it to you, she starts talking about roy again.

“—he’s a dick. a real piece of work but when we’re alone he’s sweet. i don’t get it.” she sighs before gesturing towards you vaguely at how zoned out you were again, “but i’m sure jason is similar right? they are bestfriends.”

though you answer immediately, your blood warm from the alcohol already, “no. he’s actually really sweet in every situation. just kindhearted like it’s in his blood, i don’t know, it’s kind of infuriating.”

she nods along, “he keeps to himself yeah. just a real ass for making that bet over you babe. i’m sorry about that.”

grimacing softly, you sigh, “why’re you sorry? it’s not like you did it.”

“i mean, it just doesn’t make sense.” donna dramatically groans, “he’s in love with you! why’d do men do terrible things to the women they love?”

you down the rest of your cup and immediately regret it with a groan of disgust before shrugging, “it’s not love. it’s like a race of endurance. who can take more hardship from someone whose supposed to make their life easier.”

she laughs with her pretty teeth out, bumping shoulders with you, “you sound like you’ve had a lot of shitty boyfriends.”

“one was enough,” you genuinely laugh too before it simmers into something deeper, “and he’s not shitty and that’s the problem.”

she frowns, “oh babe, i know exactly what you mean.”

the front door continues to open and close, inviting new people in and letting others out. between the shuffling, the two of you slide onto the counter, legs crossed towards the other. that’s when a thought occurs to you again and it demands to be discovered. you gulp before you speak.

“um… did you really mean what you said earlier? that everyone heard what roy said?”

donna’s frown deepens before she nods, “the people around us and other sorority did.”

“who cares though? after you graduate, you’ll never gonna see these losers again.”

she jumps off the counter, “let’s go, show ‘em how hot you are.”

sipping your drink, you glancing towards the party through the doorway. you blink at her than down at your clothes that wasn’t meant for a party.

“nah i’m good in here.” lying right through your teeth like you were any form of good right now.

she rolls her eyes and drags you anyways, back towards the loud music. as soon as you’re back you see shots being poured by roy and wally. the two of them arguing over who had better taste in music while you walked over with donna. when you look to donna to tell her to ignore roy, she’s already got hearts in her eyes and you sigh softly to yourself.

“—all you listen to is fucking faye webster,” roy sighs, “i bet you listen to taylor swift too.”

wally gasps like he’s offended, “okay that’s where i draw the line.”

when roy opens his mouth again, conner drapes his arms around both of their shoulders, “both of you have shit taste, how’s that?”

as soon as roy squints at tim over conners shoulder. though tim only smiled tightly and tilts his head towards where you stood with donna. he catches donnas eye and he shoots her a stupid smile. the kind you recognize from him as the one he makes to women he wants to sleep with. you step slightly in front of her like a protective boyfriend or something even though you’d just met her. cause you know what roy is like and in the little time you’d known donna, you know how he makes her feel with so little words.

“have you seen jason?” you say with a tilt of your head.

roy shrugs, “he’s probably still being the keg inside.”

you frown, “you let him bring a whole keg in alone?”

“have you seen the man?” asking with genuine confusion towards you, “he’s fucking ripped.”

as if you even have to think about it, you nod and turn to go find him. donna’s already making her way towards roy before you can tell her anything. so you continue your way towards the garage.

music slowly getting quieter as you walk down the hall and into the laundry room. ignoring the people making out on top of the washer and dryer as you open the garage door and find it still open. and jason’s mustang still on. but he was nowhere to be found there. you circle the car and turn the corner to no avail still. jason wasn’t there. you turn towards the front door and still don’t find him. with an exasperated groan, you stomp towards the backyard door to try again at finding him because there’s no way he just left his car on right?

“you looking for something?” a husky voice calls out.

before you’d even touched the backward door, you spin on your heel to find jason there. blunt burning between his fingers as he leaned against his car.

“yeah actually.” as you approach him, “you.”

his face stays the same as he takes another drag. eyes not lifting from you and the same stoic look on them.

“so, you found me.” he says as he blows the smoke out. the grey clouding around him and the sour smell of marijuana radiating off of him. heady in the way that distracts you.

you nod like it means something and lean next to him. “you always seem to smoke in the same spot so if you were trying to hide, should try harder.”

jason sighs and stretches his shoulders, “i guess i’m getting predictable.”

the moment pauses as you try to decipher the meaning in his words. “i didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

his eyes meet yours as he pushes off the wall. “neither did i.”

making quick work to ash out his barely lit joint, he flicks it away as he pivots and moves to go back inside without even a glance towards your direction. something in your stomach twists. you frown to yourself before deciding to ask him.

“did i do something wrong?”

jason turns his head just enough to look at you. his hand still on the door as he pulls it open. the smile that he gives you barely reaches his eyes as that same exhaustion you’d seen earlier had returned.

“nah ma, you didn’t do anything.”

then the door follows behind him, leaving you in the cold air to think to yourself. just long enough to decide that you should go home and give the both of you some space.

space you knew would eat away at your sanity.

luckily, you’re not much of a drinker so waking up early wasn’t hard to do after last night.

getting to gordon’s presentation on his new paper was easier than your morning practicals, at least today. naturally as his assistant and amateur researcher, you’d been invited to attend the gala thrown by the sponsors.

by the time you arrived, the guests were set up and the audience was packed. gordon’s standing by the bar with some of the law professors, holding a darkened drink that was definitely bitter and pretentious. a select few men with their hair slicked back had gathered around where gordon stood. conversing and laughing in a pitch that exhibited more wealth than you’d ever known.

your heels were already killing you as you walked off the subway since they had to host this on the upper east side of town. you tug at your neatly arranged dress and step forward to mingle like you were supposed to. forced to talk to the people that funded gordon’s PhD and his years of research that every other person had found ridiculous.

the sound of your name being called made you turn towards it.

“when’d you get here sweetheart?” gordon smiled as he gestured you towards the rest of them.

he was always such a strong and respected figure that you saw him like a parent. since your first year, you’d taken classes with him and his years of extensive police work had drawn you in. gordon might’ve pushed you really hard like he wanted you to do well because he really did. in the back of his mind he knew you were brilliant and wanted to nourish it before you finally graduated.

that’s why you had a full year of research assistance under your belt thanks to him.

the men around him parted for you and you exchanged a gentle hello. “i just got here actually.”

he nods, “good. great timing. i’d like you to meet some people!” gesturing towards the people in crisp suits with swirling glasses. “this is clifford devoe.”

the name rang bells immediately from how poorly gordan talked about him in private to you. gordans eyes looked to you then to the man again, silently saying a thousand words. you fill in the blanks for him and offer your hand to clifford when he raises his to take yours.

“you must be the generous one the university appointed. it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

with your hand gently taken into his hand, the feeling of unease that radiated off of him was unmistakable. you hide the grimace that he caused when he repeats your name to you.

“hm, yes.” still holding your hand a moment too long. dragging his eyes over you before letting you pull away. “i’ve seen what you’d contributed to the study on adolescent rehabilitation and prison reform. truly sickening that we still debate the human nature of criminals.”

you’re sure you’re failing terribly at hiding your distaste now. “don’t you think it’s a little silly to attribute it all to human nature?”

from beside you gordan seems to purse his lips. though clifford scoffs and smiles small, “of course a young woman such as yourself would think so as if that’s some revolutionary thought.” laughing through his words.

the condescension was clear from his rude mouth. you could taste the bitterness he spewed.

you hum, “why of course a man such as yourself would believe no one is redeemable but himself.”

from beside him, the black haired man in the suit catches your eye briefly before chuckling into his glass. narrowing your eyes at the shape of his eyebrows because they were just so familiar, the thick arches that mimicked wings. it reminded you of jason and his thick set brows that were studiously perfect without having touched them.

gordon clears his throat and nudges you softly before saying your name to change the subject.

“have you seen the completed poster with all the statistics? it looks really great, let me show you.”

before you can say anything else, he’s already been walking away, turning his head to look at you just to ensure you’re following him. with a polite and contrasting goodbye, you take your leave. feeling proud of yourself as

when you get to the poster, gordon’s standing there squinting like he’s got something bad to say. but he just shakes his head and points to the men you’d left at the bar, still conversing like no tension had ever raised.

“he pays for the damn project sweetheart, we can’t insult him no matter how much of an ass he may be.”

you shrug and sigh before mumbling. “at least not to his face right?”

despite the situation, gordan laughs. “yeah, at least not to his face.” patting your back and turning the both of you towards the poster. “now, did i tell you that they approved you as a peer-reviewed scholar once you’ve graduated?”

looking towards the statistics scattered across the large poster, you saw all the datasets you’d condensed. all the graphs and charts that you’d made and the spreadsheets that made you feel like you were losing brain cells. you didn’t think you’d get being a contributor to research paper on your record too. just being an assistant was enough. with a tilt of your head at the meticulous pie chart you made so long ago you forgot about, you hum.

“but i’m not gonna be here so how could i contribute anything anyway?”

he shakes your shoulder gently, the way the father would when he’s proud but doesn’t wanna say it with words aloud. “it won’t publish until october.”

that stopped your mind from thinking about anything else but what just came out of his mouth.

eyes widening as you turn to him. “wait, really?”

this would set you apart from other applicants in your graduate program and give you a better chance at getting into it.

he smiles with crinkles around his eyes and nods because you’d only been talking about this since you started. also because someone had already mentioned your interest to him.

“do i get any credit for that part of it?” a voice from behind you sound a d you turn to face it.

but you didn’t expect for it to be bruce wayne.

you blink at your friends dad that you’d only seen a handful of times before. now you recall how he was sat at the bar earlier, just his eyes visible and the realization of how they looked having distracted you enough. still you smile and lean forward to take his hand when he offers it.

“mr. wayne, it’s so nice to see you. i didn’t think you’d be here.”

his hand was firm and certain. righteous in a way that he radiated the energy even when you would just briefly see him.

“gordon invited me along with a couple business partners. it’s good to see you again. what’s it been? 2 years?” bruce gives a small smile while he places his drink on the table next to you. looking to gordon, bruce switches his gaze between him and the poster, “i’ve been thinking, you could go back as commissioner and implement these ideas yourself gordon.”

a snort escapes gordon as he shakes his head, “no way, and leave my cushiony tenure position?” laughing as he gestures to the poster. “you see the bridge in socioeconomic status and educational attainment? those positions don’t require degrees. they just need intelligence and compassion that comes naturally. you got a knack for those bruce.”

the two of them share a knowing glance before someone approaches gordon to ask about something with his focus group, taking away his attention. he excuses himself before he leaves you there with bruce. for a moment, it’s quiet while bruce watches the party, taking slow sips of his bourbon.

you watch with him, noticing how the people in this party were mostly the types who didn’t need to worry about these things. about the ones that are unfairly prosecuted or treated as villainous for trying to survive. no one in this room held that title the way you’d seen women and men alike being pressed. surveillance was created by them for them, to protect them.

that’s what made you want to get involved in gordon’s study. a chance to use theory and practice in a way that actually mattered.

“you think very loudly.” bruce suddenly says.

your head turns to his, still looking out at the people conversing and moving about. she’s trained over nothing and everything at once.

“my bad,” you laugh nervously.

he only shoots you another smile, “don’t be. your mind is brilliant and meant to think. don’t burn yourself out doing it too much. it’s a habit i’ve yet to get my sons to figure out too.”

sons. right.

nodding your head, you change the subject. “you know gordon pretty well?”

he nods too. “knew him back when he was still an officer. the man is a saint personified.”

distracted from the topic at hand, you try to stay focused, nodding along and silently staring at where bruce’s eyes were trained. though bruce is incredibly attentive, and he immediately notices how you’d been looking. fixing his watch that didn’t need any adjusting as he speaks.

“dick tells me jason misses you.”

nearly choking on your spit, you look to bruce again, forgetting to not look so surprised. “what?”

behind his professionalism, something turns warmer. “he’s taking academics more seriously. i’ve always told him he’s got the smarts when he puts his mind to it but i’m sure you’ve seen how shrugs it off.”

not knowing what to say, you nod him along.

“…he even applied for a couple graduate programs thanks to you and got into them all across the country.” lifting his glass and sipping.

“i didn’t know he applied.” you admit.

“it’s force of habit i guess,” he shrugs. “he didn’t even tell me when he got into gotham university. just started attending classes and brushed it off like it was no big deal which i assure you, it is.”

frowning at his fathers admission, “that’s kinda sad. he’s probably the smartest person i know.”

suddenly bruce smiles at you, his grin something more of fond remembrance. he adjusts his suit and sniffs just audible enough for you to notice. then his smile falls as he meets the eye of someone across from the room and they wave to one another.

“if you see my son, please let him know for me that his bike has been replaced. and that i need him to answer the phone when i call him.” touching your wrist softly and bidding you goodbye.

with nothing to say or actualize the fact with, you’d turned your attention back to the poster. the words swirling themselves until you’d forgotten what the last year collecting was about.

suddenly you’re glad there’s noone around to ask you about it, cause you’re not sure you’d know.

“dude just back that shit up on me.” grayson coos.

from in front of him, wally groans. “no dude, it’s not gonna fit in there anyways. just ask someone else to.”

“i’ll make it fit just shut up and do it.”

on the couch a phone rings. both of the boys ignore it and instead continuing muttering at the other. taking turns groaning as wally pushes the desk, hal shakes his head from the other side of the room.

“you guys know you could do this literally anywhere else.”

“and you could help, you know?” grayson sighs as he drops the horribly built ikea desk wally built. looking hal up and down, dick furrows his brow. “why are you even dressed like that?”

brushing off his shirt with absolutely no lint on it, hal smooths out the folds in his button up. grinning from ear to ear like a kid who’d won a prize. “I have a date.”

the boys all turn to look at him.

“oh,” wally lets the desk back on the ground, ignoring how grayson groans when it hits his foot. “a hot date huh? she got a friend?”

like perfectly horrible timing, jason’s walking into the living room. to grab his phone he’d forgotten that had unknowingly been ringing and buzzing. his eyes fall on hal on the chair immediately, trailing up his form with sharp eyes. dick clears his throat at the sight.

“your phones been ringing.” he simply says.

“yeah, i heard.” jason murmurs as he clears past hal wordlessly and heads straight to the kitchen as though he wanted nothing to do with him.

as though his very being annoyed him enough that he couldn’t spare him a glance right now. the sudden presence and departure of jason had thrown the energy of the room off for a moment, not because of him but how far hals discomfort radiated. wally takes a long look between grayson and hal before nodding towards where jason had disappeared behind the wall of.

“what’s his problem?” he sits next to hal on the couch, legs going up lazily on the coffee table.

hal opened his mouth to fill in the blanks, but grayson chimes in first, his eyes trained pointedly on hal as he answers wally. “his girl left him for some douchebag in a frat.”

awkwardly the air fills as wally nods. “right…”

“i’m gonna uh—” hal stands and leaves his cup on the table. “head out now. i’m picking her up and all.”

perched on the ikea desk, grayson nods with an expression that looks disapproving. “i expect you back around midnight cinderella. no hooking up on your first date.”

wally snorts, “hasn’t stopped him before.”

“shut up west.” effectively cutting through the tension again and reminding him who he was speaking about. “i’m serious, i’m putting the latch on after.”

the other two stay silent. hal nodding knowingly before grabbing his key and leaving them with a quiet goodbye. wally furrows his brows only minutes later as he contemplates. while the room drifts back into a silence and grayson leaves to check the kitchen only to find it empty, wally itches his chin.

“gray?” mumbling vaguely.

he hums in acknowledgment as he types away on his phone.

“is the girl he’s going out with jason’s girl?”

that gets him to look up from his phone and bring his hand out. hovering over wally’s forehead before flicking him with a sharp seething sound from his lips. grayson huffs.

“no shit sherlock. now stop straining yourself and get off your ass, get move this desk out of my living room.”

this entire situation was so fucked.

the night had hardly started and hal already fucked up in ways you knew jason would never. when he messaged you about confirming the date, he wouldn’t say where it would be. so instead, you opted to ask what to wear.

big. fucking. mistake.

never ask a man what to where to any occasion because they will give you false, misleading information and clearly hal jordan was no exception.

he told you to dress casual, something everyday, he said. thankfully you chose to wear a simple black dress otherwise you’d be entirely underdressed for this fancy restaurant he took you to. now he’s sitting across from you, flipping through the menu gracefully like he’s a food connoisseur. occasionally humming as he reads out the name of the dish to you.

“would you like the house caviar? it’s genuinely the best thing you’ll find in the tri-state area.” eyes twinkling beautifully under the romantic ambience lighting.

if it were any other period of your life, you might really, truly like him. the way he took charge and pushed to ask you out was hot. he found a way to wiggle into your life and he took what he wanted. hal was good looking, smart, and he had a good head on his shoulders. but somehow you found yourself looking into his eyes like they were interesting. found yourself staring at the orange illuminating his skin like it were the most familiar thing, and watching the flames flicker in his eyes.

staring at the flames that reminded you of him.

the warmth grew on your skin as his face morphed everytime you blinked and the love ached. your heart ached at the thought of him.

he touches your hand, “you okay?”

“huh?” you shut your eyes and look back at him quickly, shaking the distraction off. “sorry i missed what you asked.”

his thumb strokes the back of your hand soothingly. the action grounds you from the thoughts the swirled. “if you’d like caviar to try. the mussels are insane here too.”

shooting him a reassuring smile, you shake your head. “oh um, sure. whatever you’d like.”

“but would you like it?” he counters.

“probably not.” you answer honestly. “sorry.”

he smiles, “don’t apologize. it’s good to know though, next time i’ll take you somewhere not fish related.”

vaguely you nod and try to smile though you’re sure it comes out insincere. hal only frowns and squeezes your hand like he’d known you’d needed some reassurance to guide your thoughts.

“hey we can still go home.” suddenly he says. “i mean i don’t want to, shit i don’t care if jason mopes around and cries himself to sleep. i know what i want and that’s you.”

you blink slowly, letting his declaration find footing in your mind. technically he was right. you had these second thoughts because you weren’t even sure of this date would go ahead or if hal really did like you. it’s almost like he reads your mind when he tilts his head to look harder at you.

“—he doesn’t decide if we like eachother. i’d be damned if i let him get in the way of me and pretty girl just cause he fumbled her.”

the waiter comes by before you can speak through your parted lips and offers more wine. hal smiles and nods at the waiter, his warm hand still holding yours. it only occurred then that you were the one making this awkward, not him. the waiter pours your drinks and hal lifts his with his free hand, gesturing you to do the same. clinking the glasses, he swirls the cup and sips, his eyes trained on yours as you mirror him.

setting his drink back down and letting you take your hand back, hal orders for the both of you. part of you wasn’t sure how to feel, him taking that initiative to place an order of what you’d like to eat but also partially annoyed that he’d assumed what you’d like. or maybe he just did what he pleased. regardless, you were kind of glad he’d said something to the waiter cause the names of the dishes on this menu was absolutely insane. continually you look around the space, taking in the gorgeous lighting and the artwork that definitely costs thousands to maintain here. he watches your face while you stare at the tapestry behind him.

“do you like art then?”

you nod your head, still looking at the painting behind him. “i can appreciate it for sure.”

his eyes don’t falter, still staring at you while you’re looking around. “so can i.”

when you look to him, he’s got his head in one of his hands, smiling fainting with those dimples just deep enough to notice. he blinks at you, still giddy. “don’t mind me. i’m taking it in.”

you raise a brow at him. “taking in me or this place?”

“would it be wrong if i said both?”

heat rushes to his ears as soon as the words leave his mouth. it only makes you feel like imploding from how sweet he was being. fighting the urge to smile until he breaks into a soft laughter and you return the same. shaking your head and looking up the the chandelier hanging just next to you again. hal follows your gaze.

“you’ve looked at that chandelier at least eight times now.” this time looking with you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“sorry,” you laugh. “i haven’t been anywhere this nice before.”

he tops off your drinks and leans his elbows on the table in improper etiquette. “don’t worry about apologizing. i’m not much fancy restaurant guy myself.”

pointedly, you eye him. his effortlessly handsome outfit and his crisp button up shirt. you narrow your eyes at him. “could’ve fooled me jordan.”

“hey,” he raises his hands in surrender. “i don’t even know what these forks are for. i usually like eating with the little one at home.”

a genuine smile returns on your face as you lean closer just as he’s been. “i’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be a sign of neurodivergence.”

“a fork?” he challenges. “you know what, you’re smart and pretty, i believe anything you say.”

lightly you smack his arm and shake your head, calling him stupid with no malice as you sipped your drink. after a couple more minutes, the waiter comes out with your food. as soon as you take a bite, you look up at him wide eyed and make a sound of approval.

hal smiles like he’s won the lottery. “yeah? it’s good?”

with your eyes still closed now, you shake your head and chew. “very good.”

pushing your plate to him, he laughs and takes a forkful to try. only seconds later moaning egregiously enough that the older people in the tables next to you have dirty looks.

“this, is better than sex.” he admits more loudly than he needs to.

“really selling yourself short there,” you laughed.

blinking he laughs. “i mean, sex is objectively good right. but if the girls not feeling it then it’s never good. as a man, i’m objectively not as good as this pasta.”

this only makes you laugh harder. “that still didn’t make any sense.”

your mind eases off of jason for a while as he presses you for information about school and your future. he listens so intently that it makes you feel respected and valued. though this doesn’t last long because you’re left thinking about jason again before you’re trying to shake it off to no avail. the comparisons were hard to ignore.

hal had ordered the caviar he was anxiously wanted you to try and reluctantly you’d made some excuse not to. hal shrugs and eats the rest while you’re not sure whether to be endeared or slightly horrified. but even this wasn’t an issue.

the problem was exactly that. hal jordan had no red flags for you to focus on. nothing for you to say so you could argue that you weren’t ready or that he was rude enough to warrant never seeing him again. he was quite the opposite of being crude. the date was far from terrible. he’d picked you up from your place and even came up to your floor to walk you down. flowers waited for you on the passenger seat once he got you there.

even after the dinner was over and hal had paid for the bill, he wrapped his coat around you and respectfully walked you of the building with a hovering hand. still unsure if he could touch you but not ready enough to ask to. he held the door open as he let you back into his car. drove you back to your apartment and walked you up the stairs all over again. shamefully, all you could backtrack to was jason. all you could imagine was the parallels to jason at your front door, waiting for you to open it. now you were opening your heart to a boy you didn’t pay much mind to a month ago, no matter how physically attractive he was.

but hal had no problems to blame your inability to fall into to. no real issues to back up this feeling that he wasn’t yours because he isn’t jason.

you unlock your front door and push it open, standing in he doorway with the lillies he’d bought you. he stands behind you with his hands in his pocket and a sweet smile that should’ve made you melt, instead you felt like stone.

“thank you for tonight hal. i had a lot of fun.”

shrugging and nodding with that perfect, unfamiliar look on his face, he speaks. “i did too. i really hope i can take you out again soon, maybe something less fancy? this time i can cook for you?”

the thought only made you swirl further.

distant memories that felt closer than before reappeared. jason cooking in your kitchen with a soft hum coming from his throat as he chopped and stirred. him feeding you something saucy and cheesy before he kissed your lips to wipe the residue off. his hands travelling down your thighs while he pressed against you with his lame apron still on. his voice by your ear saying all the sweet things you’d ever wanted to hear. now you wanted to vomit.

you nod, looking into each of hal’s eyes and letting him lean in closer as he stares at your lips. the intention was clear and you felt frozen in place. he leans further in and presses his soft lips to yours, deepening it as his hand came up to hold your head. though you don’t love from your place. you didn’t reach out to touch his head back or let go of the flowers. instead your grip loosened a little and you let your head go a little limp as he held you closer, though his lips somehow felt colder than the last ones you’d touched. then he pulls away, gasping slightly and smiling with his eyes closed.

“you’re so perfect.” he whispers before he kisses your cheek and pulls away. “good night gorgeous.”

watching as his footsteps depart and you stand there with the flowers hanging low, petals facing the floor. after a minute you quietly slip into your house, a new sense of discomfort bubbling. you shut the door behind you and lean against it, flows slipping from your fingers and hitting the floor with a soft thud. a shudder runs though you.

you’re not sure how many minutes are spent like this, thoughts swirling you around and taking root in your mind. the thoughts of jason and unease guilt that you didn’t believe you should even harbour. somehow you felt angry, not with hal, and not even with jason, but with yourself.

slow, hot years rush down your cheeks as you bury your head in your hands.

what the fuck were you doing?

the door shuts behind him with a thud, a soft groan on his lips as he slips his shoes off.

everyone should be asleep in the frat house now. it’s nearly 1am and he’s lucky grayson didn’t lock hal out. but there’s a light on in the kitchen, and something told him he wasn’t going to be let off so easily.

quietly hal creeps toward the kitchen, pulling off his belt as he approaches and leaves it on the table in the hall like he’d had a long day at work.

“how’s your date?” a voice grumbles.

hal nearly jumps, “jeez, fuck—jason? what’re you doing up?”

from the dining table jason grumbles again. dimly lit but just visible enough, hal spots a beer and a ashtray in front of him. “couldn’t sleep.”

stalking a little closer, hal turns on another light. “waiting up for me to get home i assume?”

“doesn’t matter,” he quickly answers. “whatever forget i asked.” getting up and throwing his beer out.

hal only stands there, watching him move and murmuring a quiet, “alright then…”

then jason turns around. he freezes in the doorway before he turns to hal, something on his face that meant he was serious. “just don’t… hurt her, alright?”

“you mean like you did?” crossing his arms across his chest as he blankly stares at jason.

“yeah,” jason agrees, his eyes shining with a soft sheen that told hal he was clearly emotional while he was out. then he resorts to threatening. “don’t do what i did cause i swear to god i’ll make you regret it jordan.”

though hal sees how he seemed defensive without any real malice. jason seems genuinely sad as though he’s realized what he done just as he was weeks ago, moping around the house. this time he only seemed defeated, and it didn’t seem worth it to keep dragging jason’s past along.

easing back toward the table, hal shrugs him off. “look man,” he sighs, “you don’t have anything to worry about.”

jason perks up a little as he look back up again. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” shuffling his feet as he mentally prepares himself to reassure jason. “she seemed distracted the whole night. like she’s in her own head thinking about something else. it wasn’t until we got to her apartment that she—”

before he knew it jason was in his face, dangerously close. “you went to her home?” anger in his tone.

“i didn’t go into her home, i just dropped her off to her front door. no big deal. it’s not like we fucked or anything.”

his mouth opens and closes again like he’s going to ask him something but he doesn’t. instead he takes a backwards step and nods slowly. “right. good. you should be seeing her get home. it’s uh, safer that way.”

squinting his eyes like jason was entirely transparent despite how he tried to make himself seem, hal shakes his head. the tension falls from its rising crescendo and hal leans onto the table as jason anxiously taps his foot. the two of them unsure how to proceed from here. then grayson walks into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing at his eyes.

“you idiots whisper yell very loudly.” turning his head to hal to hone in on him. “didn’t i say be back earlier?”

“well you don’t lock the door.” shooting a cheeky smile that grayson doesn’t find amusing.

jason uses the opportunity to excuse himself and takes a bottle of water from the fridge. tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie as he walks out. “night.”

the two boys return the sentiment and grayson turns back to hal, before jason is too far to miss their words. “how’d it go? you kiss her?”

from the staircase, jason stayed put there and held his breath. waiting for hal’s response to what he knew he had no right to be angry over. the milliseconds it takes him to respond felt like an eternity to jason.

hal chuckles quietly, “it went good. really good. i’m gonna take her out again next week.”

grayson nods expectantly. “you didn’t answer the second part.”

“yeah,” hal starts with a fond smile on his face, “i kissed her.”

letting out a slow, controlled breath from his nose, jason stares into the abyss ahead of him. at the dark unlit hallway that lead to his room and stalks towards it without thinking about it.

he doesn’t stay long enough to hear what his brother says and goes straight to his room.

the ethics lecture was the most boring one they’d gone over and you wished you slept in.

students had fallen asleep on their desk across the lecture hall, theatre seating giving you great view to see what everyone was up to. you were still distracted from the events of the last week and how you’d done a date with hal only two days prior.

the thing is, you hadn’t told anyone about it yet. you hadn’t seen cassandra or grayson. hell you hasn’t even heard roy’s loud mouth in a week let alone seen jason.

now you were finishing up your notes and cross referencing it to the readings to understand what concepts overlapped. highlighting the theories that worked in contemporary cases and found something to discredit it for your final paper coming up. the professor spoke quickly as he went through the importance of ethics as a researcher. how you’d need to inform the participant of their role in your work and how they play an important part in pinpointing change.

how it was your job to be honest and responsible. to ensure you’ve spoke nothing but the truth to the people you’d involved. all you wanted now was to talk to jason. not that you’re sure what you’d say, just that his voice could ease your mind from everything else.

once the lecture is over, you’re the first one to leave. a sweet treat and coffee was in order for the fruits of your labour today—getting out of bed and going to a lecture.

the cafe air is always warm and inviting. the scent of arabian beans and baked goods drawing you closer to the counter. it’s a blessing that it’s located right at the edge of campus too, so when the library was too packed, you’d head here.

you take your drink and a house made brownie to head to the booth seat by the window. watching the clear blue sky and listening to the chatter in the cafe. you pull out your laptop and notebook, cracking your knuckles in anticipation for what awaits you and how much studying you needed to catch up on. no matter how hard you prepared, there was always more to do in university. plus, being a research assistant meant you’d have to push your work work aside to aid in a project.

though right as you open a new tab and click your pen, you see him.

jason walked into the store with his headphones on and his bag slung over his shoulder. he heads straight for the booth in front of you and ouuuu track his movements without making it obvious. though when he passes by your table, he slows down. his eyes fall over you as fast as he looked away, and you feel a sense of disappointment wash over you. then, he just slides into his seat and all you can see is his hair poking out the top of the booth from tall he is in comparison.

why were you disappointed that he didn’t really say hi, you’re the one who kinda ghosted him.

to yourself you blink. at the laptop you blink harder. no, you’re not being crazy right? why didn’t he reach out anyway? is this all justified to him like he doesn’t really even care? you guys have been studying together for a while now, and he always joins you so boyfriend or not, why didn’t he? aren’t you guys friends?

you’re standing up before you know it, grabbing your things and roughly shoving it in your bag. the reasoning had convinced you enough that he was the one being weird because he totally was. didn’t jason even say you did nothing wrong the other night?

“hey,” you say standing next to his booth.

he lifts his headphone from one ear, “uh hi.”

“why didn’t you sit with me?”

blinking as he pauses his music, jason slides his headphones off and gestures you to sit. quietly you do.

“i assumed you were busy.” he says as you sit.

“i wasn’t.” more timidly than you intended to.

he shrugs slightly, “it looked like you were.”

for a moment you still. maybe you were right. maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. but why won’t he just say it out loud?

jason fiddles with his headphones for a second before he decides the grain of the wooden table was more interesting. you however, weren’t amused. in fact, you were quite confused as to why he’d been avoiding you entirely.

“was it something that i said?“ plainly, you ask.

jason sighs and looks you in the eyes fully for the first time since you sat down. “we haven’t talked in days, what could you have said?”

“exactly,” nodding his sentiment along, “you’ve been avoiding me and i can’t figure out why…”

“i’ve just been busy.” he lies.

“liar.” you call him out. “we have the same classes.”

with his hands, he gestures slyly. “look,” not realizing how his tone gave him away. “you didn’t say anything wrong.”

“so i did something then.” you correct.

jason grumbles and says your name. “no, now you’re putting words in my mouth. we, you and i, we’re good. you don’t owe me anything ma. i just want you to be happy.”

the nickname makes your stomach flutter regardless. jason looks to his phone to a message from roy and sighs before standing up again.

but you’re thinking over the meaning behind his words. i just want you to be happy. you don’t owe me anything. where the hell was that coming from?

“i gotta go.” shoving his headphones into his bag and getting out of the booth.

“oh, already?” you try and fail to hide your disappointment.

he only nods, “i’ll see you around princess.”

then he walks off.

the meaning behind his words only swirled you more confused. the thoughts filling your mind and sending mixed signals throughout. his sudden cold demeanour had you thinking and overthinking, letting them sink through the fabric of your clothes and onto your skin like a brand you felt shameful wearing as it clicked.

fuck, jason knew.

—

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

grayson has always been terrible at hiding his actual feelings with you. he could hardly even mask it as he stretches his legs out for his run and shakes his head.

“you’re still in love with him. of course you are! you guys are both playing racket ball with my last couple of brain cells.” pulling his leg behind him into a deep stretch.

burying your face in the pillow on his bed, you try not to scream.

lucky jason wasn’t home according to grayson. he had gone up to the cottage to grab his bike apparently and decided to spend the weekend there so he wouldn’t be back until monday.

folding to lay his palms flat in the ground, he effortlessly continues. “i never liked the hal thing for the record. i’d prefer keeping you in the family.”

“gray, you’re not helpful at all.” you murmur from his pillow.

sighing, he stands upright. “alright. fine. you tell me then.” striding closer and ruffling you hair obnoxiously. “do you really love him?”

from the pillows you lift your head and look up at his watchful eyes, a arch in his brow that demanded honesty. slowly you nod.

“i think he made me understand what it means and i’ll always want him.” you admit.

grayson shakes his head at your response as you sit upright. “that’s not what i asked though. do you love him? because if you’re using hal to move on, that’s a disservice to both of you. hal and yourself.”

“not jason?” you raise a brow.

“nope.” he quickly answers. “that boy made his bed the first time he messed with you. everything else is fair game in my mind.”

that pulls a genuine laugh out of you. his honesty only making his statement funnier to you.

“aye, i’m serious. jason hurt you once, so i’m not sweating you trying to move on, even if it’s a little fast for you.” patting your shoulder softly as he moves back towards the door.

though a sinking guilt still held you, he made you feel a little better. “thanks gray.”

“anytime,” he smiles. “now you have no excuse to miss the party i’m throwing you.”

everything in your face drops, both in disbelief and shock. “for me? what?”

this only makes him smile wider. “ha, perfect keep that surprised face when everyone shows up. it’s not everyday someone gets into grad school like haven’t been gushing over it since their first year.”

before you can grumble his name or protest another party after last weekends where jason vaguely told you, “you did nothing ma.” grayson is already out the door. stomping down the stairs as his open door lets the sound of his voice travel.

“wear something nice please!”

the walk over to the frat house was obnoxious as the campus was packed. people gathered across the field with drinks and blankets, music and loud students celebrating their final days on campus.

there was no choice for you but to attend since grayson practically forced you to go.

opening the door to the house was where you saw just how much bigger this party was than he told you. loud music and synthetic smoke mixed to create a barrier that could make you feel intoxicated just by being there.

by the stairs, there was a group of people lounging and smoking. a huge bong between them and a couple joints being passed between the group. then there was people just standing near the door, lingering and talking. mostly flirting. in the living room was a game of spin the bottle and another group dancing to dancehall.

you hear your name being called just seconds before someone hands you a drink and you gracefully accept. grayson approaches you and eyes the cup.

“what’re you doing accepting random drinks when i made you a special punch eh?” wrapping his arm around your shoulder and walking you both towards the kitchen.

you laugh as he spins you by your finger and whistles at your outfit. “you actually listened and wore a skirt.”

gushing beside him is donna, roy’s arm lazily around her waist. “oh my god. you look so hot!”

taking in her attire you admire her. her black dress with sparkles that looked stars in a night sky. she was so effortlessly gorgeous.

“thanks.” you smile. “so are you. that dress is made for you.”

donna laughs and picks up a solo cup, handing it to grayson to pour as roy nods his head at you. then he whispers in her ear and grayson steals your attention once again bu handing you a full cup of punch that you just knew was 90% alcohol and 10% punch.

“this, my beautiful friend, is made solely for you.”

clinking his plastic cup with yours before taking a swig. reluctantly you do the same, taking a long sip of the drink made to inebriate you clearly. the taste made you wince and shake your head, hanging your tongue out of your mouth as you grimace.

“what did you put in this grayson?” you wince.

he laughs and rubs your back as you cough. “oh you know, seltzer, lime, vodka, don’t worry about it. it’s mean to get you drunk and let loose before you’re in that stuck up institution without me.”

“you’re in an institution right now.” you blink.

for a moment he thinks, then he shrugs. “whatever, did you eat yet?”

“uh. not dinner if that’s what you mean.”

he tsks at you and opens the cabinet, tossing a protein bar at you. you catch it and eye the bar before his face like you’d asked, why without saying the words. he gets it of course.

“cause i don’t want you puking at a party meant for you. so eat it please.” he kisses the back of your head dramatically and you could already tell just how drunk he was.

humourlessly, you let out a small laugh and shake your head. but you don’t miss when grayson catches roy’s eye. he tilts his head and mouths something that you would’ve missed if his distraction had worked. roy looks to grayson and shrugs, and his words you can make out.

i don’t know.

“girl,” donna snaps you out of your trance. “you look too good to stand around. dragging you out of the kitchen by your wrists.

you’re still sipping your drink as she pulls you over, needing the liquid courage to get you right to cope with this. she’s pulling you into the empty space and starting to dance a little while you rest your drink on the table. swaying her hips next to yours and humming thoughtfully to the song.

“come on!” she laughs and you can’t help but laugh too.

the liquid swirling you with more confidence as you start to raise your hands and let the beat thump through your body. slowly, you bring your arms up and up your body, swaying and letting your hair fall behind you. donna’s got her hands on your hips experimentally, moving you around and whooping. you play along and grind on her like she’s your man here. then you see stephanie and cassandra just lounging by the couches and you gesture them over.

they rise and dance with eachother, inching closer until all you could smell radiating off of everyone nearby was the intoxicating marijuana and alcohol that ruined you like no other.

but the name didn’t stick, and the blunt from between cassandra’s fingers made its way to your lips as she placed it there. smiling at you and loudly saying, “i’m glad you left your house smarty pants.”

you roll your eyes and blow out the smoke, the sensations intensifying as you grew more intoxicated. leaning closer to her face, you whisper yell, “why don’t you go dance with your girlfriend yeah?”

cassandra laughs and offers you another hit that you so gracefully accept, twirling as you take a long drag and pass it back over. she moves her way back towards stephanie and does the same in putting the blunt between her lips. you catch stephanie hollowing her cheeks and urging her closer, blowing the smoke right in her mouth.

you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that rose inside you. what they had, you wanted so badly. you practically had it with jason, but now your here swirling in your thoughts because a smell and an action now attributed itself to him in your mind. slowly you sway over and slow your dancing, the thoughts filling you up in a way you hated.

a hand grazes your side and spins you to face them. a smile on his face that practically echoed his intentions.

“hey gorgeous.” hal greets you. “you look real good.”

you blink up at him, a little tipsy and definitely a little high. the cross fade making you open enough to lower your inhibitions. you smile back.

“hi hal, so do you.” letting his hands go around your waist so he could move with you slowly.

the people around you are grinding on eachother, but you knew well enough that that’s not why you wanted. instead, you move his hands that travelled lower and place them on your waist. he doesn’t even question it and lets you use him for support as you grabbed your cup and took another sip.

from the corner of your eye you see a girl touching up on a guy, his back turned so all you could see was the ripple of hard muscle under his shirt. but the way he moved was too familiar.

your breath hitched as you watched the scene unfold.

the redheaded girl dragged her hand down his chest as he turns to the side, one of his hands hovering over hers and the other flat at his side. she’s mouthing something close to his ear and he tilts his head to hear it. the air from the room felt like it was being sucked out as you saw his face. the girl giggles as jason whispers back, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest.

quickly you turn away and take a giant gulp. unknowingly you had been gripping at hal’s chest and he had just let you. his eyes followed where yours had led and he frowns slightly as you pull away to down your drink.

“you okay?” he suddenly asks.

you clear your throat. “yeah, i’m fine,” fake smiling to sell your words.

“don’t do that,” he rasps in your ear. “it’s okay to still love him.”

that takes you back and you look up to him, his hands still locked around your waist.

“what?” you quietly say.

he smiles like it’s the easiest thing. “you heard me. it’s not a crime to be in love. hell, he’s a lucky guy to have a girl like you.”

the implication made your face burn. he knew you’d been in love with jason all this time, but he didn’t want to make you feel bad about it.

your lips part as you rasp his name as though in apology. though hal just shakes his head.

“it’s okay, i’m fine. i knew you liked him all this time, i kinda thought i could get you to understand there was more out there. part of me just always knew.” smiling sweetly.

taking a moment to look into his eyes, you gauge his sincerity. hal only mirrors everything he said because he meant it deeply, and that somehow made it worse. you feel your heart twist.

“i’m sorry,” voice breathy as you purse your lips.

he just smiles and shakes his head, looking up to where jason was before he spins you around. “let’s dance over there yeah?”

feeling his energy shift, you frown at him and turn around anyways. and you could feel your heart breaking into couple dozen pieces. the girl had her hands in his hair as though they’d just kissed, and you’re standing here feeling like an idiot as she runs her fingers through jason’s hair.

suddenly this party didn’t feel so fun anymore. a small sigh escapes you as you abruptly turn back around to hal, hand touching his chest like you needed it to keep you sane. he clasps his hand over yours and tilts your head up at him.

“it’s okay,” he whispers close by your ear. “you can show him what he’s missing.”

before you could ask what he’d met, he lowers his face to yours and presses his lips against you. a gentle peck meant to prove something that you weren’t even sure you wanted to show. a muffled sound of surprise gets swallowed by his as he deepens the kiss, opening one of his eyes just to see if jason was looking. you feel him smile against your lips as your wide eyes watch his, looking past you to ensure that jason knew exactly what he meant by what he’d been missing.

jason never wanted to come to this party. he’d told grayson as much when called him and told him to stay longer at the cottage because he didn’t want him to bother you.

he was happy for you of course. the fact that you’d gotten into the school of your choice and got what you’d deserve was everything he could have ever hoped for. you were the one person he was sure deserved every part of this.

though jason couldn’t stay in those four walls any longer and not think about how close he was to having you again.

the memories rang like church bells on a sunday morning. there was no escaping it.

now he’s come back to the frat house to go rot in his room when he found that someone already made their way up here and stole his bong. entirely annoyed and grumpy over many different reasons, he made his way downstairs, still in his black tee and grey sweatpants like he didn’t belong there.

as soon as he’s met with the scent of alcohol, jason grimaces from the last time he’d been drinking and recalled the events. he moves his way towards the living room to get away from all the things mixed in the punch that’s was in the kitchen.

though only two steps into the living room, he sees you—dancing. a slight wick of sweat on your brow as you moved carefree, hands on your friends shoulders while her hands were in the air. the way you moved was intoxicating enough for him. the air tightened and the room quieted as he saw you there and jason felt himself moving closer without even realizing, just magnetized to you especially now.

he made it a point to see who else was nearby, watching stephanie take cassandra’s hand and dance closer. then he averted his gaze to the men by the wall and saw the one person he definitely didn’t want to see.

hal fucking jordan.

the blood in his veins boiled for reasons he didn’t want to voice. something tore through his skin like it wanted to break free and grab him by the collar. part of jason wanted to physically fight him, no reason than for how close he’d gotten to you. but you kissed him. or maybe hal kissed you. either way jason knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t kiss him if you didn’t like him or at least didn’t see it heading that way.

jason sighs lowly as he sees hal down the rest of his cup and make his way over to you.

maybe he should get to you first, he thought.

no, you’re happy. at least you looked happy.

he talks himself out of it just as hal touches your hip. still halfway through lunging at him, someone touches jason’s shoulder and he turns to see roy standing next to a redheaded girl.

“jason, my friend here said she thinks you’re good looking.” straight to the point, roy says.

the girl smiles sheepishly, “hi.” her voice hoarse like she’d drank too much already. inebriated enough to have no social awareness.

roy smiles and steps behind her, shooting a wink at jason before leaving them to it. jason cusses under his breath before she drags her hand down his chest.

“woah, you’re like really fit.” giggling as she traces her hands down his pecks.

laughing uncomfortably, he takes her hands gently off his chest. “uh, thanks. did you come here with your friends?”

she hums and leans closer to him, the heady scent of alcohol on her breath as she gets closer. “they don’t mind though. do you mind?”

he looks over her shoulder to see hal with his hands around your waist, speaking in your ear too intimately for his comfort. he tenses at the action but watches as you do the same, your hand at your side clenching and your nails digging into your palms. watching as you bite your lip, not in the way he loved when you wanted him to touch you, but as though you were uncomfortable.

jason turns his attention back to her as she loops her fingers through his belt loops and quickly grabs her hands.

“woah, woah.” still uncomfortably laughing as he presses her hands to her stomach trying hard to keep her away. then he lets her go. “easy.”

“what?” she giggles, running her hands up his back and through his hair. “you got a girlfriend or something?”

immediately he nods, “yeah actually i’m supposed to go meet her so.” he backs up and takes her hands off him once again.

jason looks left and right and spots roy watching from afar. a stupid grin on his face as he waves at jason. giving him an annoyed look, jason gestures him closer and he reluctantly comes. feet slow as he approaches like jason’s an animal that could pounce on him at any moment.

“hey you two,” he points. “you guys alright?”

jason’s scoffs, “yeah asshole. can you make sure she gets to her friends? i don’t think she should be alone this off drunk.”

the girl scoffs too, “i’m perfectly fine actually.”

he shoots her a look before looking back to roy. the girl waves him off annoyed and moves behind roy to text on her phone. though roy puts his hand over his shoulder and sighs.

“look man, i was just trying to help. i mean she’s moved on, i feel like you should too. get laid and get over her y’know?” gripping his shoulder tight with one hand.

“no,” jason shakes his head. “i’m perfectly fine how i am, thanks.”

“i don’t know dude. i feel like all this yearning isn’t healthy.” roy shrugs and sips his beer.

jason pulls his arm off of him and sideeyes roy like he’s personally offended him. “hal said they kissed, sure, but i don’t think she really likes him like that.”

“really?” roy says with a grimace on his face, pointing ahead as he stares. “are you sure about that?”

“what do you mean?”

heart pounding in his chest as he follows roy’s gaze to where you stood. reality felt like it had sped through fast and time was slipping from between his fingers. the music faded like a dramatic movie as he watched hal, kissing you.

his lips parted as he watched, mouth gape and his hands balled into fists.

his filthy hands touched your chin and pulled you closer while the other rested on your waist. he watched as he deepened the kiss and leaned closer into you, back arching slightly as your hand unclenched and opened in the air.

taking the beer from roy’s hand, jason abruptly turns. “you have my car keys no?” he suddenly asks.

roy stammers, pulling the keys from his pocket, “yeah but, are you okay? considering what you just saw—”

jason grabs the keys and walks away quickly. making his way through the crowd and out to the garage, shutting the door behind him shut.

it was clear to him now—you were happier without him around.

—

only the loud bass and the thumping in your chest could be heard from between you. parting from hal, your hand immediately went up to your mouth. cupping your lips and wiping them unintentionally as you blinked up at him.

“what was that for?” huffing as you stared at him.

“what? i thought you wanted him to know you’re okay without him too.” he furrows his brows.

horrified, you turn around to where jason stood and find him nowhere to be seen. you flicker your gaze over the crowd, over the people, over the dancing bodies and the smoke filled air—but nothing. jason wasn’t here anymore.

he was leaving again.

you push slightly as hal’s chest. “i know you mean well but, i didn’t want him to think—”

“shit,” hal interrupts, his hand at the back of his own neck rubbing soothingly. “i just assumed. fuck, i’m really sorry, i thought… i should’ve asked.”

you were sure you had tears in your eyes now. the thought of jason having to see you with someone else made you feel like your blood had frozen over.

you stammer as you back away from him. “i have to find him.”

in recognition, he nods. “yeah, of course. i can explain it to him if anything.”

but you’ve already run from the living room, storming through the crowd like a madwoman. pushing past the drunk people in the hallway and storming up the stairs to his room.

you put the door open and jason isn’t there. just as fast as you went up, you ran back down, heart thumping in your ears as you caught a glimpse of roy sitting on the couch with the same girl as earlier in his lap. you stride right over to them.

“roy,” you gasp. “where’s jason?”

immediately he sees the raw emotion on your face. the way the colour seemed to drain from it and how you seemed like you were about to throw up from the looks of it. his expression shifts from the flirty front he puts on into the friendly, caring one he only recently exposed to you.

he nods slowly. “he took his car keys from me and left. he didn’t say where though i’m sorry.”

the girl in his lap tilts her head at you, clearing sizing you up. “isn’t that the grump tall guy? girl don’t even bother, he said he’s got a girlfriend.”

the pang in your chest only tightens as you realized he didn’t even kiss this girl. he told her he had a girlfriend and you knew there was no one else. he was talking about you. and now he’s seen you seemingly making out with hal in his brothers frat and everything fell into place. like pieces of a puzzle that was horribly mixed up.

roy snaps you out of it when he speaks up.

“i parked in the garage if that helps.” his lips in a small frown like he were sorry.

you nod as you back away and head straight for the garage door. feeling tears welling in your eyes and a pit in your stomach as you inch closer.

what if he left already?

what if he’s come to the conclusion that this was all too hard to deal with and he was better off just finding someone new when he got one of those grad schools across the country?

part of you felt guilty now for ever even trying with hal when you don’t feel the spark you desperately craved from one person. but you kept telling yourself you should try. that jason was ignoring you because he had already decided for the both of you.

by the time you get to the door and push it open, you feel entirely sober by his car still there.

you sigh in relief as you get to the passenger seat and yank it open. sitting in the chair quickly and shutting the door behind you just to find jason sitting there gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing grounding him right now.

your name on his tongue was sweeter than it should’ve been on these circumstances.

“what’re you doing here?” he sighs. “should you be in there?”

steadying yourself you purse your lips and bite your tongue. jason furrows his brows and tilts his head at you.

“hey,” making you turn to him still unable to entirely meet your gaze. “are you okay?”

you nod as your lip trembles. how do you tell him that you’re madly in love with him and even with a new, perfect guy, all you can imagine is jason.

his demeanor shifts at your inability to respond.

“did he,” jason starts. “did hal fucking hurt you?”

“no, jason.” picking at your nails and sighing. “he didn’t do anything wrong.”

then, slowly, he nods as if in realization. face slipping back to the same blank compliance as before. “right. he’s your boyfriend, sorry.”

“he’s not my boyfriend jason.” you snap. “god, you ignore me all week and then you make think you’re making out with some random girl.”

projecting like you weren’t the one kissing someone else. though that’s besides the point.

“hey, i wasn’t kissing anyone.” flickering his eyes over your face, taking in the way your skin paled. “i swear, i didn’t.”

“why not?” unable to hide the way your voice broke. “i mean i hurt you. i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to write me off.”

that makes him scoff more harshly than he intended. “why would i do that when i have…” stopping himself. “when i don’t want them?”

his response only makes you feel worse though the way he was holding himself back from admitting the truth, it only makes you want it more.

“why not?” the words come out small.

jason furrows his brows. “why?”

“yeah,” you look at him, tears still glazing over your eyes. “why not?”

“because,” he stammers. “there’s no timeline on moving on. you can do whatever you want so i can also take my time no?”

“please, you’ve been avoiding me like a sickness and staring at hal like he kicked your dog.”

clenching his jaw, jason sighs heavily. “that’s not true.”

“isn’t it?” scoffing as you watch the side of his face. “you hate me and him and it’s my fault.”

groaning out your name like it hurt to say, “i don’t hate you. i could never hate you.”

“then why are you ignoring me?” you ask, interrupting him before he can do it to you. “and why aren’t you coming to class? or ever here when come to see grayson or hal—”

but that clearly pushed a button and jason snaps.

“because i can’t fucking stand him!” he raises his voice.

the sound taking you aback and a small scoff escapes past your lips as you watch him breathe heavier. nodding your head, you turn completely towards him in your seat and tuck a foot under your knee just to look directly at his face.

“you could stand him perfectly fine a couple weeks ago when he wasn’t going out with me.” crossing your arms as you stare at him.

his head shakes as he grips the steering wheel tightly. “it’s not that simple and you know it.”

“oh please, enlighten me then jason.” you press on, entirely over this situation and needing him just as badly as you wanted to hate him.

“you—” he starts and stops again.

you’re watching him as he shuts his eyes and lets out a deep exhale. suddenly he looks up to your side and trails his gaze over your face, lifting his fingers towards you like he’s twitching just to touch you.

in his eyes, you find the same adoration you’ve always loved, but now it’s accompanied by a bitter taste. he presses on.

“when i see you with him, i feel like i’m suffocating. like the air around me has been sucked away and i can’t do anything about it cause i did it to myself.”

parting your lips as you watch him confess what he’s hidden for weeks, you listen. brows upturning as he shakily breaths out your name.

“it’s selfish, i know. you’re your own person and i ruined us with all the lies. so you’re more than allowed to date other people. i just can’t… i—i can’t be around it. i won’t.” gulping as he looks at your hands in your lap now, wanting badly to hold them in his. “i know there’s too much baggage between us and i i hurt you but part of me thought we’d figure it out?”

his tone upturned at the end as though he’d contemplated within himself before voicing it.

“—is that why you’re leaving?” interrupting his thoughts and barely concealing the emotions that threatened to spill over. “because of me?”

something in his eyes seem to soften then, flickering and fanning out like all hope had dissipated.

his voice is quiet and unsure as he rasps. “what?”

“you don’t have to lie jason and you sure as shit don’t have to avoid me like the plague. i just wanted to feel wanted like a person and not a fucking prize.” slow tears slipping down your warm cheeks. “you never told me you were going to leave me though.”

taking a large gulp, he shakes his head. “i was never going to leave you.”

but you’re shaking your head. “i know you applied to grad schools across the country and i know you got it. i just can’t understand why you hid that part from me.”

furrowing his brows like he’s trying to understand where you got to that conclusion, he looks deep in thought. then recognition flickers behind his eyes and he leans closer, clasping your hands in his. staring into your eyes like he were sorry. you sniffle as he takes your hands and try not to sob at how royally you’d felt like you’d fucked this up.

“bruce told you at gordon’s event didn’t he? fuck, i wanted to be the one to do it.” he searches your face when you look down into your lap. though jason follows your head and tilts his. “i’m sorry. i said no more lies and i hid this.”

he leans even closer, enough to smell your perfume and the slight intoxicating scent of lingering weed illuminating between you. jason sighs and holds back his own emotions. “i feel like i’m always apologizing to you like an idiot.”

between quiet sniffles you find yourself leaning closer to him, searching unconsciously for comfort. you lean your head onto his shoulder.

“you’re not an idiot. i just can’t stand to lose you jay.” the quiet admission slips.

immediately he cradles your head there, leaning his own head on top of yours and gently touching your cheek. he whispers a small shaky noise that sounded to your name before he takes a shallow breath.

“you’re allowed to be happy. if he’s making you happy then i want that for you.”

you pull away to look at him, the motion evident all over your face now that he could see it again.

“damn it jason, i’m not fucking happy! i didn’t move on,” elevating your voice like you were speaking to yourself more than him. probably still more intoxicated than you felt. “i don’t love hal. i don’t, love anyone else but—” you cut yourself off.

the car suddenly feels a lot smaller. the doors seemingly doing nothing to make you feel closer to jason despite how close you say next to another. the silence stretched for what felt like minutes but was only seconds.

but jason, his eyes were glued to yours.

“you love someone else?” voice small as he carefully watches you. waiting patiently for you to fill in blanks he desperately wanted to be right about.

slowly, you nod as a tear slips down your face. “you jason. it’s you.”

his hands touch your face delicately. thumb grazing over the warm tear as he held you close. from how close you say now, you could see the tears welling in his eyes and the relief that flooded as he switched between your eyes.

“you love me?” breathlessly, he said.

unable to say anything through your broken tears, a sob breaks out as you nod. jason presses his forehead to yours and whispers your name, over and over like he’s counting his blessings.

“please,” he rasps, “please say it. i want to hear it ma, please.”

between sobs, you melt against him. tearing wetting your lashes and his skin.

“i love you jason todd. i love you so much that it’s causing me physical pain.” laughing a little at the end as he joins you.

“yeah baby? well, the feeling is mutual and i love you more than i’ve ever loved anything or anyone.” gazing into your eyes like it held the key to all of his prayers.

pulling you closer like there wasn’t a dashboard between you. all resolve crumbs as you climb over it and into his lap, straddling him tight. his hand grazes over you hair and pushes it back as he makes you face him, wiping the tear streaks from your skin. he shushes you as you sniffle.

“don’t cry baby, i’m not leaving. i’m never leaving you again. you hear me?” kissing your cheeks as you pull at his shirt. “i didn’t pick a school yet. i haven’t chosen one because i can’t breathe if you’re not close.”

you hum as you pull at his shirt again, tugging him closer and letting him lean you against the steering wheel. pulling his hair back to watch his handsome face smile up at you. your eyes flicker to his lips and he smiles brightly as he drops his hands to your thighs, kneading the plush there.

“you want something princess?” teasing despite the circumstances.

you can’t help but laugh and roll your eyes. “just kiss me already jason.”

“for you? anything.”

then he’s on you, pressing his perfect lips to yours. it feels like your floating over yourself as he deepens it, holding you tight against him as shops his tongue down your throat. you him into his mouth, moaning lowly as you hips mindlessly shift against him. jason groans and bucks his hips slightly, biting your lip to make the sweet sound slip past your lips and to his ears.

“baby,” he rasps against your mouth.

though you don’t part, instead you tug at his shirt and pull up the hem. jason gets the message immediately, letting you pull it up enough for him to take it off all the way. his shirt is off when you trail your fingers down his abs, touching the hard muscle that you missed like a pillow. you graze your fingers up and down while you kiss down his jaw, eliciting a gorgeous moan from him that felt like music to your ears.

fumbling with your skirt while you undid his belt, you could feel how hard he was beneath you.

“are you sure?” breathlessly he says while you nip up by his ear.

nodding, you moan against his skin, biting the love and kneading it with your teeth.

“yeah jay.” you rasp. “i need you.”

it’s enough to spur him further, hiking up your skirt as you push his jeans down with his boxers. you feel his hard length against your bare inner thigh, painfully hard and leaking in your need.

he’s moving to pull your panties down when you stop him, taking his hand and guiding him to push them to the side instead. urgency in your movements as you watch the realization in his eyes. jason only smiles as you guide his length to press against you. the message is clear as he nods and kisses you again, pecking your lips in little movements as though savouring you.

then you’re pressing down against him, mouth parting as you take him. seating yourself down as he holds you, guiding your hips when you try to take him at once. jason stops you before you try to let him all the way in. he sighs like he’s straining himself.

“breathe baby,” gulping as sweat wicks his forehead. “no rush. breathe. it’s all yours yeah? i’m all yours.”

you nod as you lean forward again, capturing his lips and lapping at him. he tightens his hold on you as you tilt your head, pressing him further into his seat as you begin to shift your hips. sinking further down against him, jason guides you there.

he doesn’t thrust up into you when you take him completely. instead, he parts from your lips, letting you breathe with a line of spit between you from how desperately you both needed eachother. jason groans lowly as you continue to shift your hips, dropping his head against the seat as praises escape from your lips.

“so good jay,” whining as you bounce against him. “you’re so perfect baby.”

jason returns the whine and bites his lip. this only excites you further, knowing how it pushes his buttons and turns him on. you know your man. grinding against him harder, you moan as he kneads your ass in his palms. little moans and words of affirmation as the signs of him losing himself made you want it more.

“i love you,” he moans helplessly, saying your name over and over. “god, i love you so much.”

“i love you too baby.” you whisper against his lips. “you’re so good. fuck, you’re so big.”

he makes another whimpering sound, his hips stuttering against yours as your movements only grew wilder.

“shit baby, don’t say that. i’m gonna lose it.” groaning as he throws his head back again, entirely lost in the feeling of you.

the peak was creeping over on you too. you could feel yourself there, sensitive enough to let go, but not enough to get him there first. hips moving in tandem with yours as he bucked up into you.

“good,” you sighed dreamily, smiling down at jason who’s just barely keeping it together. “i want you to let go.”

“oh fuck,” he moans.

he bites his lip so hard you think he’s gonna make it bleed. fingers digging into your thighs like an anchor. another whimpering sound that grew into a moan as he dropped his head to your chest. lazily grinding against you as he held you tight against him.

“please jay,” knowing exactly what you were doing. voice breathy and seductive. “i wanna feel it inside me.”

the response is immediately as he sputter and loses all semblance of himself. his hips buck up, once, twice, and he hold it deep inside you. letting go and painting you inside as he made swallow thrusts.

the feeling crashes over you too as soon as you feel it, crying out as he held you through it, guiding your hips still. he makes sure to rock you through your peak, lazily grinding as you gasped for air.

coming down while he kept you close, collapsed against his chest. melting into him while he caught his breath. jason sucks in a sharp breath and sighs. his spent leaking onto his lap and he didn’t care.

“i meant it.” he admits while you’re still reeling.

you hum quietly to tell him to continue.

“that i love you. that i’m never leaving you.” already kissing your dampened hair as he remained seated inside you.

“i meant it too,” you croaked, entirely spent. “i love you jason todd.”

the smile on his face could be felt through your hair, and he laughed as he tightened his hold around you. almost crushing but you couldn’t care less if you tried.

“so,” his voice still sounded unsure like he was gauging your opinion and didn’t want to overstep. “does this mean i can call you my girlfriend now?”

putting a hand to his chest to lift yourself, you look him in the eyes. squinting as you smack his chest lightly.

“i’ll kill you if you don’t.”

a slow smile creeps over his handsome face. the expression only makes you want to jump his bones again like he wasn’t hardening inside of you all over again. jason cups your cheek and pulls you in for another sloppy, wet kiss. slipping his tongue past your lips and biting your lip as he parts.

“good. cause i’m gotham u offers a good criminology masters program and i’m thinking of accepting it.” pressing his lips to your nose and to your forehead as you giggle.

then his word click and you gasp. “gotham u?”

he nods dreamily with his eyes half lidded, watching you. “well if my girlfriend is still going there then—”

“yes!” you shove him further into his seat, taking the turn to kiss all over his face. “a million times yes. don’t you dare,” speaking between kisses, “change your mind.”

he pinches your side so you stop and leans his forehead against yours again. either hand on the sea of your face like he was trying to memorize how you felt and brand it to his skin. jason stared lovingly into your eyes and you felt it, deeply.

for the first time in months, you felt love unconditionally and unapologetically reciprocated.

“i wouldn’t dream of it princess.” eyes twinkling as he stared at you.

looking into his eyes, the future didn’t feel so scary anymore.

"Here I was thinking your terrorising finally came to an end." Your voice echoes, a teasing tilt laced in its croak from hours of going unused. "It's nearly closing hour, Jay."

Despite the limp that accompanies his gait, clearly wounded somewhere beneath his large frame and thick layers of clothing, his own smirk greets your gleam of teeth. "Couldn't end a shit week without a recommendation."

Your heart skips, like the quick traitor it is. You feign a casual expression, as if you didn't have his next read hidden under your stack of orders you've yet to shelf.

"Bringing in blood to the floorboards again?" You raise a brow, gaze flickering to where his boots left imprints on the scratched-up wood.

"Nah." His smirk widens, stopping before you. "Wouldn't want you making use of free labour again to mop the dust off this place."

"Wouldn't be too difficult if we didn't have to use bleach, genius."

He shrugs, looking down at you with a pleased expression. "Useful skills I teach you, all without a price, sweetheart." His voice rolls over you like thunder, a low gravel for that mocking nickname he picked out for you like you're the only person he's ever given it to.

Your neck cranes to meet his gaze. "Right, next time I need help cleaning blood trails, I'll call my favourite potential vigilante."

"Oh, so I'm a favourite now?" His brow raises.

"You're so full of yourself." Your bite holds no mark, softening in its edge when your fingers trace over his next recommendation stuffed between the stack of new donations. Dragging it out, you hold it out with held breath.

It never gets easier, the silent exchange. The anticipation, the brief few seconds of waiting as his gaze assesses your pick. It had started out exactly like this, and like some idiotic, preening teenager—you had hoped with every right choice you made, it might heighten the chances of him coming back.

This isn't a library, an establishment where he had to return to at some point. No, he could very likely purchase your selection today, decide it was absolute shit, and never return. Yet, he always came back, and you began to lean on the crutch of a belief that he would continue to.

"Call it a profitable relationship." You joke, even as your heartbeat faintly thuds in the pads of your fingertips, digging into the spine of the copy you reserved for him.

He takes it, fingers brushing over yours. That lingering second of contact feels intentional, but the ghost of his touch disappears before you even have the chance to register its searing warmth.

His smirk dials down into something softer, more genuine. This is the part you love most, and secretly dread that you might not receive. That rare spark in his gaze, to receive something so personal based on the assumption of what he might like. All narrowed down from a history of ten minute exchanges every week in the dead of night, shared between an academic victim who likes spending too much of her time waiting for a suspicious individual to sneak into a local bookstore, and said suspicious individual.

"It's a local author." It spills out of you before you can stop it. "I know you've read most of the classics, but you haven't really delved into ones that relate more to home."

His lip curls, a hum stuck in the back of his throat, and you recognise its one of approval. It shouldn't affect you as much as it did.

"Literature that dives into the horrors of Gotham, should I expect an existential crisis tonight?"

"I'll leave the surprise to do its job.” Leaning in over the counter, your gaze drops to his cargo pants. “Any reason for the limp?"

“Jumped down from the fourth floor.” He shrugs. “Wasn’t sure you’d wait up on me.”

You stare at him wide-eyed, waiting for him to call upon a joke—and he merely returns your stare, amused.

“Jason, you’re joking.”

“I never joke about closing hours.” He shrugs.

You're ready to start, because his frequent disregard for closing hours is a whole other thing—but his gaze shifts instinctively to the clock hanging lop-sided by the ladder, before landing on you again. The crinkles of his gaze deepens, softening the shadows. "You better catch the train. Do me a favour and remember to lock your windows when you get back?”

"Yeah, so long as you come in uninjured next time."

"Worried about me? As long as you keep yours, I’ll keep mine." The point in his grin sharpens, fingers giving a lazy wave as his shoulder digs into the door. The bell rings once more, as if to signify the gravity of his departure. "More illegal activities to run. See you next week, sweetheart.”

His shadow disappears past the flickering street lamp outside the store, as if he never existed. Your heart does that little, traitorous sigh—and that’s all the physical evidence you have past the lump in your throat that the exchange even happened at all.

Your first encounter with Jason was less familiarity-conduced endorphins and more of customer service's worst nightmare.

"Sir, I'm afraid we're closed."

You don't know why you bothered with the 'we', when you're clearly the only staff here. Or why you bothered speaking at all. This man who's barged in through the door, despite the 'Closed' sign, is obviously on edge and possibly on the run? Gotham's unspoken law is to never stick your nose into other people's business, especially if the stranger radiates danger right down to his bruised knuckles. All you should be concerned about is the ten minute walk you have to embark on and how all trains in this district stops at thirty minutes past eleven.

His gaze shifts at the sound of your voice, distracted and hyper-focused all at once. You're struck by the illuminating green that disperses into pale blue, when he finally notices that he isn't alone. Intense, and otherworldly—a gorgeous lunatic who looks like he materialised out of the shadows, stepping into the night and ending up on the wrong side of Gotham.

His gaze doesn't linger for long before it maneuvers around, scoping his environment as his lips press together, some sealed sigh laced within the charged tension between you two. Eventually, a low rasp leaves his lips. "I'll buy somethin'."

Your brows furrow. "Excuse me?"

His hand shifts, waving you off impatiently. "Hand me a book, or two—whatever. I need more time."

The crease between your brows deepen, that soft irritation earlier rising again. Not only has he come in during closing hours, which is the worst of all experiences in customer service, but he had the audacity to be rude and dismissive about it.

"Sir, I'm afraid you'll have to come back another time—"

"Lady." He cuts you off, gaze shifting back towards the streets before looking back to you in warning. "It's not a request. You can charge me however much you want, but I can't leave this store till the coast is clear... and neither can you."

Great, now he's holding you hostage too.

"Are you being chased?" You question impulsively. You have a bugging suspicion that he's prone to lying to you anyways, but his cutting tone makes you unfamiliarly bold. "You're a criminal?"

He snorts, finding something amusing. "In Gotham, some would say it's an honourable profession. There's worse bad guys out there, sweetheart. You're lucky it was me that came in here."

"I wouldn't call it luck." You frown. He doesn't bother with a response, clearly tuning you out, and your growing dislike finds something new to feast on. If you're going to waste a Friday night with some asshole, you may as well squeeze some money out of his pockets. Your gaze flickers over him, scrutinising.

"What are you looking at?" He murmurs, sensing your gaze even when his own is trained on the window, hand tucked under his jacket on what you hope isn't a weapon.

"Just wondering what kind of reader you are."

That finally gets his attention. He looks back at you, surprise evident in his gaze. Without that permanent furrow between his brows, he looks almost younger, erased temporarily of the self-righteousness buried in his bones and the weight of something deadly clutched in his hands.

A moment passes, his tight expression slowly unwinding into genuine amusement. "That's kind of you but you don't have to dial up your customer service. I'm not the kind of guy who leaves reviews."

Your brow twitches, frustration slipping past the cracks of your demeanour. "It's principle. I don't recommend books half-heartedly."

His smirk twitches higher, but you make the wiser choice of storming off, deeper into the shelves before he deigns you with another unfavourable response. Your mind is already slipping into its unfolding map of genres, of the books that encompass your pathway with what you think suits a jerk like him.

"Jackass." You mutter to yourself, opting between a self-help book or a literature pick for the jerk who acts so highly of himself. You decide on the latter, doubting the hunk would even understand the reference.

"Dorian Gray?"

"Yeah, heard of it?" You respond, unamused as you glare down at him.

He's made himself real comfortable, large thighs swallowing up your seat, swirling around on the creaky wheels as he eyes the store with that same assessing look he did when he first entered, as if he was used to mapping out any place he stepped into.

“Experience is merely the name men gave to their mistakes.” He mutters lowly, blue eyes landing back on you.

You blink once, then twice, wondering if you'd misheard him. "You're a reader?"

"Enough to know what you're suggesting, sweetheart." He mocks. "I know a thing or two about mistakes of men, so if you want to cause some real harm, you'll have to hit harder."

"I wasn't—" You falter, because that was exactly what you were intending on. "Fine. You forcefully extended a long, underpaid night shift, and I indirectly called you a jackass. Let's call it even."

His lip twitches involuntarily, not expecting your honesty. "Y'know being direct is what gets you places in Gotham."

"Yeah, gets you running into bookstores and terrorising their staff, you mean?"

"Well, I haven't been insulted through a book before." He shrugs half-heartedly. "I suppose you experience something new everyday."

"Anyone ever told you that you're infuriating?"

"Pretty too." He grins then, something striking and downright filthy. His hand taps on a copy of 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. "That's what you seem to be suggesting, since you're clearly intent on being honest through your recommendations."

Your scoff escapes you, less annoyed than it should be. "I think my recommendation fits you just fine if that's the only thing you're willing to take from it."

"Oh, I'm more than willing." His grin sharpens. "That's sweet of you, but I'm afraid it's a little compromising, hitting on a customer this soon? You do this with all late night visitors?"

You're tempted to drop one of your heaviest dictionaries right on his skull to sort out the serious issues going on in that head of his. "Customer?" You raise a brow mockingly. "All I see is a stranger wasting my time after closing hours, raising this month's electricity bills, refusing to pay a single cent for his book, and getting out of here as promised."

"We still have—" His gaze glimpses to the clock. "—five minutes if you want to play it safe. You're doing a horrendous job at customer service by the way. Calling me a jackass, trying to kick me out. No wonder this place is—"

Your jaw drops. "You are not insulting the very place you're hiding in like a coward right now."

He raises both hands in surrender. "So charming. Was just going to mention how charming this place is."

Your lips quiver into an almost smile and you shut it down immediately, along with the quick decision that he is dangerous. Disarming with the quickness of his tongue, and unnerving in how he handles conversation like a chess board.

"This entire situation needs more tea." You grumble to yourself, turning your back on him.

There's nothing worth stealing on that counter of yours, unless he's crude enough to steal second-hand books worth cents if he even attempted to resell them in a city like Gotham. At most, he'd take the chipped mug rimmed with your tea. Oh, stupid you forgot your mug.

Your steps retract, a groan caught in the between your lips as you turn around with the anticipation to be hit with his mocking—only to find an empty seat in your view. Your head whips around past the shelves, but there was no sight of a worn leather jacket. Of course, he didn't even bother to announce his departure.

Coming back to the counter, you check for any missing items only to spot a bookmark poking out of one of your books, left in an ajar placement on the counter. On top of it, sat a pile of cash that was worth more than any copy in this entire store.

“Hey—”

He was already gone, you forget. You flip open the book, only to find there’s handwriting on your bookmark. Scratched in impulsively, like a lingering thought he had to put down.

“Jackass left you a tip for the trouble—and the rec. - Jason.”

His condescending tone somehow translates into pen on paper. It should irritate you. Yet, when your fingers lift to trace over the drying ink, you find yourself smiling involuntarily again. Jason. What kind of a man was he? It's a useless question, as you doubt you'll ever see him again.

A likely criminal, a guaranteed jerk—and probably the most exciting visitor of your entire summer.

Jason comes back not a week after. Covered in blood, which after your initial fright, is believed to belong mostly to the other guy. That particular fact he thought to include does little to soothe your nerves.

“You should’ve seen him.” He rambles, in what you could only hope wasn't his disgruntled attempt at impressing you, whilst laying flat on the desk. “Makes mine look like child's play."

The first-aid kit, hidden somewhere in the store cabinet, is squeezed haphazardly onto your office chair. There’s nothing more nerve-wracking than your first attempt at stitching a cut, not anything close to your caliber. If his arms weren't wrecked, you suspect he wouldn't have come all the way to you, an actual stranger. His voice distracts you, and you miss your aim.

Jason hisses, half-shirtless with his black tee tucked between his canines. "No, I said you have to turn it as soon as the point disappears."

Your hand is splayed over his stomach, fingers shaking slightly as you try to focus. "Stop shifting, and just keep quiet for a second. I can't focus with you nagging me."

"Forgive me for being concerned about my wound—"

Your hand comes up to shove the t-shirt further into his mouth, muffling his words. He raises a brow, almost amused, and a trickle of sweat brushes past.

"I'm trying my best to help, when this is clearly something hospitals exist for." You huff, focusing back on the stitch. "Give me some grace, and shut up."

His muscles flex and contract, but eventually, he listens. Your work becomes easier after that, despite it being the worst position you've ever been put in, neck cramping to avoid blocking your only source of light, the flickering lamp above the surface he's laid on, his blood dripping onto the wood.

"You owe me at least five purchases to make up for the blood stains." You grumble. "That requires you to stay alive."

He grunts through the fabric, and you take it as agreement.

“Why’re you back here anyway?” You question, trying to distract yourself. “Of all the places you could’ve gone, you thought that a bookstore keeper would have medical expertise?”

“Not medical expertise.” He mutters, voice too raw to not be honest. “I wanted..”

Your hand places a cloth over his wound, soaking the fabric red. “Wanted what?”

His gaze lingers over you, somehow more haunting with how the blue shade's grown darker, pupils expanded. He winces when you accidentally put too much pressure on the stitch, but that doesn't seem to be all to his sudden stillness. “A recommendation.” He answers eventually.

You stare at him, tempted to laugh. “You came all this way bleeding out, barging in through the door, past closing hours again—for a recommendation?”

He stares at you, and your laugh slips through when you realise that he’s at least half-serious. “I knew you'd be infuriating, but I didn't expect insanity.”

He ends up buying eight later just to prove his point and to make up for the blood stains, only after you promised that they'd all be your recommendations.

The hour's long past operating train schedules, and with the quiet acknowledgement of traumatising your uneventful Friday night, the second time he's reinvented what a normal shift should have been—he offers to walk you back once warmth seeps back into his skin.

Somewhere between sitting cramped behind the shelves as you pick out his recommendations and his tracking gaze over your frame as you rant on about how he desperately needed a self-help book or two, the unspoken tension gradually fades. Eventually, your frustrations die down too—and you realise his company, minus the blood and sharpness of tongue, wasn't the worst thing in the world.

You come to expect Jason’s presence, late in the night although he does begin to respect the concept of a ‘closing hour’. He's usually your last visitor regardless—leaving the two of you alone to... continue on your charade of recommendations. Even when he begins to linger longer than any customer should, offering to walk you back, or make you tea when you're too busy shelfing to bother with a new mug to replace your over-steeped one from the afternoon. Except for today, because Margery, your least favourite customer in the whole of Gotham, decides to pick the one night Jason's visiting to start her practiced act.

Clearly intending on slithering her way into getting something for free, Margery drones on about how important her niece's education is to her, and how anything contributing to children's education should be free of charge. All over a book set costing a measly seven bucks, but you suppose to dear Margery, supporting small businesses in Gotham isn't in her check-list.

“I’m sorry, Margery.” Your voice remains perfectly levelled. “I can't hand the set to you for free, because it's against our policy."

“Can’t you understand my situation?” She huffs, annoyance flared in the fine lines of her cheeks. “No one's even interested in that set, I've surveyed it for days.”

“Which by all existing policies, still requires a purchase, ma’am.”

She scoffs, nails drumming impatiently against the counter. “I want to speak to your manager.”

Your lips quirk up. “Jason.”

Jason shifts then, his gaze lifting from the book in his hand, one which he hasn’t turned the page since he conveniently perched himself right next to your counter ten minutes ago. He places the book down gently onto the wood, bookmark slipping into place, though the slight sneer of his lips conveys none of that delicate care as he slumps against the counter, shoulder brushing against yours.

“There a problem?”

Margery blinks, affronted by his attitude. Or his sheer size towering over her. "You're the manager?"

“Policy’s law.” Jason shrugs. “If you’d like to take this further, to save yourself—“ His gaze flickers to the book set, and his smirk quirks up higher—the perfect composition of a jerk. “Seven bucks, we'll be more than happy to call the authorities.”

“I have never experienced such horrible service!” Her cheeks grow warm, sloshed with embarrassment. “Acting as if I'm in the wrong—you’ll be receiving the worst review!”

"All’s fair in Gotham, ma’am.” He calls out with a grin as he watches her turquoise skirt catch onto the end of the door hinge, releasing another shriek from her lips.

The door slams shut, bell ringing dramatically with the impact, and Jason turns back to you, smile slipping into something familiar and reserved for you. “The review will be wiped the moment she hits post.”

You snort, leaning back against the shelves. “Should I be concerned about your illegal activities invading its way into my work?”

“Nah.” He shrugs. “Last place the GCPD will look into is some shabby bookstore.”

“Shabby.” You feign offense. "Our most repeating customer doesn't even hold a shred of respect for this place."

“Oh-no, I’m beginning to like the sound of being manager of this fine establishment.” He humours, glancing around as if he hasn't already memorised the interior.

You frown, suspicious of his change in tune. “Why, cause you’ll be the boss of me?”

His smirk deepens. “One of its many perks, I imagine.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Todd.” You glance back towards the door, still unable to rid yourself of the satisfaction of watching that entire fiasco go down. "Though I suppose a thank you is in order."

"Couldn't get her out of her fast enough." He shrugs. "She was taking up our time."

"Our?" You raise a brow, almost teasing as you look back at him. "Didn't realise this was our thing now."

His gaze lingers on you, as if he knew his response would be the deciding factor of acknowledging the thinly veiled string that's begun to loop itself around the both of you. Something about your dark circles, the oil on your nose bridge, or the mess of your knotted hair—whatever he saw in you, seals his decision.

"Yeah." His voice rasps, the most unguarded you've ever heard him. "It is."

It's an instantaneous kick, one that nearly leaves you breathless as you try to regain your composure. He could’ve said nothing. He could have thrown this to the side and said that his weekly visits for recommendations during your shifts, no matter if he was bleeding or bruised at the knuckles coming from a life clearly separate from yours—meant nothing.

Yet, it does mean something. Not just to you, but to him as well.

"Oh." You mutter, because you can't think of anything appropriate to say to that.

"Oh." He echoes, a genuine smile lingering at the edge of his lips. "Haven't received my recommendation of the day, sweetheart."

You blink, feeling strangely light, as if your body has regained all the energy zapped out from long hours of rearranging shelves and stacking boxes. It doesn't help that he's looking at you like that, soft and disarmed in a way you've begun to realise he's let himself be, only around you.

You should've trusted your gut that he was dangerous, but never in the way you expected. Your heart skips traitorously, the little thing already knowing something that you refuse to admit aloud. So, you do what you always do and dig out your recommendation, waiting for that spark to light in his gaze and pretend there's nothing more to why you love it so much.

Weeks turn into months, and Jason becomes your one constant even as your shifts lessen in hours to accommodate your academics. If anything, there's something comforting now about leather jackets, the faint scent of pain ointment, the certain knowledge that Jason is most probably a vigilante, after you noticed his constant vigilance over the district you work in has significantly lessened crime rates.

His shelf at home has built its steady collection, every book representing a particular week, an ever-increasing memoir of the thing shared between the two of you, from the first time he stumbled into the store. You don't know what to call it, only that you wish for it to never stop.

He knows the store like the back of his palm, including the exact hour in which you would get up for a tea refill, or when you need a steady hand on the ladder to reach the highest shelves. It's strangely intimate, the way he slots himself into the quiet mundane of your shifts, but he never complains of boredom or having something better to do with his time. If anything, the slower the day, the more he seems to uncurl like a satisfied feline—accompanying you by your side when there's nothing more to do, catching up on his reads while you have a read of your own.

"I have a recommendation for you." Jason mutters offhandedly, legs resting on the desk, as much as home as you are now, seemingly unbothered that he's randomly switched up the unspoken rules of the thing that's shared between the two of you.

You raise a brow, gaze peering over your current read. "You—Mr. I Can't Read Without Your Recommendations, has one for me?"

He shrugs, taking something out from the inner pocket of his jacket. You never understand just how much he's able—and willing to fit inside the leather confinements, and you swear half of it belongs to his side of the world you're privy to only in the latest of nights, when his hand is gripping yours knuckle-white, and he lets you stay by his side before muttering his review for his latest read.

In his hand, is a book, one in which you recognise immediately.

"Dorian Gray." You muse. "Is it your turn to call me self-conceited?"

His lip twitches into a half-smirk, but it buries itself under what you only recognise now to be nerves.

"Jason?" You murmur, slightly startled as you place down your book.

His own hand, scarred over the knuckles and engulfing the book, places its weight gently in your hands, as if offering something sacred.

"I wrote something inside." He mutters, voice softened.

Your brows furrow, but you oblige—flipping open the very first copy you've ever recommended to him, and find a handwritten note on the first page. It's unmistakably his, and there's a few scratched out lines that you can't make out, clearly something he pondered over for a while.

"I think you've probably figured it out by now, that I am not good with my words, no matter how many books I've read with greater speeches or declarations. Still, you deserve to hear something honest, and I've always conveyed myself better through my actions than I do with my mouth.

When I first entered this store, I never expected to run into you. Fate or whatever people call it, has never been considerate of my path, or who I encounter along it. Yet, you stood right there, clearly out of place with the world I know, and I don't think I'll ever truly comprehend how our paths aligned. I told myself to forget you, but you had given me a piece of you in the book you placed in my hands, and I couldn't stop thinking of that, of you. I tried convincing myself, after considering it for seven days, that seeking you out would make the curiousity dissipate, and not because I wanted to hear your voice again.

Bleeding out over your counter, I knew that I was done for when I realised I was willing to buy the entire store if it meant getting to spend a few more minutes by your side. Every book I carried home, was me getting to keep pieces of evidence, of this thing we share that feels like it's completely ours. Proof that a person who thought about what kind of reader I'd be despite every reason not to care—actually existed.

I'll probably regret this, I do have a talent of screwing up with people, but keeping silent has never been my forte, and I would regret not telling you what I've known since the first, which is that there hasn't been a single book where a line has crossed my mind without thinking of you. That there hasn't been a day, where I don't hold myself back from wanting to see you again. I'm offering you my honesty because I do believe that's the only decency available in Gotham, and I'd like to offer you at least that."

Speechless was an understatement for the shaking in your fingers, the weight of the page in your hand when you finally look up and meet his gaze.

He's nervous, pupils dilated—body locked with tension. He's just poured his heart out to you through the page of the very first book you've given him, and he's staring at you like you’ve changed the entire trajectory of his life, and not the other way around.

“Jason.”

“I’ve never done anything like this.” It spills out of him, as if he can’t contain himself. “Our thing, falling for someone. So, before you say anything—I just want to state that I'm not expecting anything. That's the one of the hardest lessons I ever had to learn a long time ago, so don't feel you have to say something you don't mean. I just can't go on pretending that meeting you didn't change something in me—that it hasn't rewired what genuine happiness feels like. I began to read again, after all these years, because books which I once found comfort in now reminds me of you. That in every line I read, I searched for something to bring back to you."

"It scared me." He admits, and even the act seems to cost him. "To care that much. To have this lack of control over how I operate, how I should feel. You disarmed me in a way no one else ever had, and I didn't think I even had that in me anymore. To feel this terrified and to still want someone this much."

His hand lowers to the note-filled page, the book still gripped between your hands and his expression steadies. "I considered it countless times. To stop this, before I start something I'll never be able to take back. Then I looked at you, and I realised I can never go back to my life 'before' you. That I was already in this, and I'd be willing to do anything if you are too."

"Jason." You call out, and he stops with a trained halt, as if he expected the worst. That was your last straw.

"I didn't even need the note." You burst. "If you had simply told me you wanted me, I would've already said yes. Our thing, I've always wanted to be a part of it."

Before, he was tense—but now, your words seemed to have hit him like a truck. You continue, not wanting him to doubt something you realised should've been obvious from the moment you kept that very first note he left you in your wallet.

"I want to be in this with you, Jason." You confess. "You're the one person I wanted to see every night. I don't know how to say this without sounding like a mess but—every book in this store, I constantly look for something that screams you and I wait in the hopes that you'll like it, and that was the most scariest, intimate thing I've ever done for someone. So—you're an idiot if you think I don't want this as much as you do."

"...You mean I didn't have to feel physically ill to write that note out, and you would've said yes?" He mutters after a moment, a low huff of amusement leaving his lips.

“I thought you said being direct is what gets you places in Gotham.” You quote.

His smile gradually reappears. “Yeah, I suppose it got me places. Running into a shabby bookstore, getting hit on the first night.”

You raise a brow. “You and I remember that encounter very differently."

"Yeah?" He murmurs. "That'll be a problem if we aren't on the same page. Just to give it a test, what if I said I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Shock registers faintly to you, even if that thought's been circling your mind for months. A little smile pulls at your mouth. "Yeah, I think we might be on the same page there."

When he leans in, you smell faintly of gunpowder, something warm and smoky—so distinctly Jason. You don't think you'll ever tire of it, and you love it more when his fingers tangled itself into your hair, brushing against the nape of your neck. When he finally kisses you, a low rumble in the back of his throat in content, you find he was half-right that night you both met. Maybe there was luck involved after all.

"I am keeping that note." You murmur after he pulls away to press something softer against your temple.

you were just humming in the kitchen, washing up the big ol’ pile of dishes in the sink. jason wanted to help, but you said no, really because he wasn't super great at it, but hey, you liked that he put in the effort.

your pyjamas were all soft and snug on your skin, thanks to jason throwing them in the dryer before you changed. but you had this sneaky feeling he picked out the tiniest ones on purpose.

the wooden scrubber in your hand was on its last legs, and that garlic parmesan from dinner wasn't helping much. you were scrapping extra hard, making sure there wasn't a crumb left behind.

you finished the dishes with a relieved sigh, drying up your hands on the towel by the sink before you dimmed the amber lights of the kitchen.

after, you grabbed a few matches from the little drawer near the fridge along with a stick of your favorite incense. your steps padded softly towards the dining table. the freshly mopped floors felt cool against your feet.

you set the little stick on the holder and lit it up, quickly blowing on it so the smoke could fill the apartment with its scent. taking a slow exhale, you paused to appreciate the quietness.

jason had left for patrol a little while ago, or so you thought, and you settled into that soft solitude that crept in when he wasn't around. it was nice not to have a two-hundred-pound guy taking up half the space. for the most part.

you decided to head to the living room to clean up the mess from the board games you two played earlier. you’d rather get it done sooner than later, knowing you wouldn't want to get up and clean after getting into bed.

then suddenly, his voice broke the quiet.

“did i do something wrong?”

“sweet baby jesus!” you gasped, hand flying to your chest, your breath heavy as you looked at him through wide eyes.

“what is wrong with you?" you asked, trying to calm your racing heart. he looked kind of intimidating, just a shadow in the corner, barely lit, but you recognized that little pout of his from a mile away. “what do you want, jace?”

“you didn’t say goodbye,” he said, stepping into the light, his frown small but there. he was just standing by the window where he usually went out for patrol, helmet held under his arm, just waiting there so still that it threw you off.

“what are you talking about? i said bye,” you replied, finally letting your hand drop from your chest and mussing your hair.

“nuh uh.”

you lifted your gaze to him, a frown tugging at your eyebrows. “oh yes huh,” you shot back.

“nuh uh.”

“yes huh!”

“nuh uh!” he exclaimed, raising his voice, his fingers clenching into a fist.

you raised an eyebrow, your hand resting on your hip. “is that an attitude i hear?” you asked, taking slow steps towards him. you noticed how his jaw was all tight and his eyes were full of uncertainty.

you watched him bite his lip, words struggling to form. his hands curled into fists, relaxed, then curled again until his helmet slipped from under his arm and clattered onto the floor.

“jason?”

he stared at the wall behind you before mumbling, “you didn’t kiss me goodbye.”

you blinked at him. “excuse me?” that seemed to flip a switch in him. he turned to you, looking worried.

“are you mad at me? what did i do?” he whispered, his hand reaching out to rest on your waist, his fingers curling around it perfectly.

you sighed, your hands momentarily covering your cheeks. you couldn't believe he was serious. “you think I’m mad... because i didn’t give you a goodbye kiss?” you asked slowly, wondering if he was just teasing.

he nodded, his bottom lip poking out a bit as he squeezed your waist for comfort. you rolled your eyes and smacked his hand away.

“you are mad!” he accused.

“am not!” you huffed, “you’re just being silly, and now you’ve lost patrol time!”

“okay, but what if i get hurt without my good luck kiss?” he countered, placing his hand back on your waist while snaking the other around you, completely capturing you against his muscles.

“you are ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, looking up into his expectant yet pleading eyes. “if i kiss you, will you go?”

he nodded eagerly.

“ugh, fine, but only because i want you to leave,” you said, leaning in for a quick peck on his lips. but that plan went awry as he leaned in for another kiss... and another... and another.

“jason, goddammit, jason!” you said, struggling to squirm away from his grip. his stubble was scratching against your skin, and you could already see your skin breaking out the next morning.

he kept launching his little smooch attack until you felt like a total glob in his arms. your expression blank as his lips planted kisses everywhere, from your chin to your hairline.

after one last big smooch and a loud “mwah,” he finally released you, flashing a toothy grin while you shot him your best annoyed look.

“you leaving now?” you mumbled, glancing at him as he nodded, turning back to the window, gripping the edge, and wiggling a bit before jumping out.

you sighed at the absurdity of it all. “you forgot your helmet!” you said, crouching down to grab the red thing and tossing it out the window. “fucking loser,” you muttered.

“hey!” you heard him yell from outside, but you weren’t sure if he was offended about his helmet getting tossed or if it was because you called him a loser... which he was.

after a few seconds, you took a deep breath in and let it out. finally, he was gone.

you turned around and got back into your rhythm, bending down to pick up the dice and all the scattered uno cards left on the coffee table. you even found one tucked under the couch...where jason conveniently sat before he somehow won. suspicious.

you carefully stacked all the cards into a neat little deck, using one of your hair ties to keep them together before putting them on the bottom shelf and moving on to the dice, placing them inside a wine glass that decorated the tabletop.

with a grunt, you got back up and put your hands on your hips, glancing around the apartment. it was a bit messy, but good enough for you. plus, it was late, and your phone was probably getting paranoid about how long you’d been away from it.

you wandered into your shared bedroom and collapsed onto the bed that sat in the middle of the room.

his cologne still clung to the sheets from when he'd gotten dressed, and you couldn't help but wrap yourself up in a burrito while you dug for your phone beneath the pillows.

"five minutes," that's what you told yourself. just five minutes on social media before you went to sleep. but then five turned into ten, ten into thirty, and before you knew it, you heard the sound of jason climbing back through the bedroom window.

the sound of his kevlar suit echoed as he moved closer to the bed. you heard the soft hiss as he took off the helmet and felt the way the mattress sunk as he placed it near your feet.

you waited for him to climb in, one minute, two minutes... two and a half. until you turned around, looking at him over your shoulder

“dude, are you getting in?” you asked, eyeing him up and down to make sure he wasn’t hurt before you started to scold him. he looked fine, a few scratches here and there, but overall, he was okay. good.

he didn’t say anything, though, and you rolled your eyes. his gaze was locked on you, and he couldn’t help but notice how the blue light from your phone made your eyes shine and defined the slope of your nose.

“i’m not dealing with another one of your tantrums,” you muttered under your breath as you turned back to your mukbangs of the most beautiful desserts in LA.

another half a minute went by, and you grunted as you glanced back at him. you knew what he wanted, of course, but c’mon! he was getting way too spoiled lately. too bratty. you couldn’t just give in to everything.

“if i do it, will you stop staring at me? it’s kind of creepy,” you said as you struggled to untangle yourself from the blankets before sitting up to face him. he just nodded.

“ugh, fine,” you muttered, scooting over and starting to ruffle the sheets on his side of the bed. “c’mon, c'mere handsome,” you cooed, using that soft voice you usually reserved for stray cats in crime alley, but somehow he got to be the exception.

he immediately started yanking off his heavy boots, tossing them who knows where, and then leaped on top of you.

“for fuck’s sake, jason! how many times do i have to tell you—” you were cut off when his lips began to wander over yours and then down to your chin.

“i missed you over there,” he whispered, his hands wrapping around your waist as he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him.

“yeah, well, i didn’t,” you mumbled.

“oh yeah? then why are you all cuddled up in these blankets like that?” he shot back with that lazy grin, his face getting way too close to yours. you hated how much you loved those little dimples of his. “is it because i sprayed my cologne?”

“shut up.”

“Morning, baby,” he drawls, wrapping his large arms around your torso. “Ready to go?”

You whip around, facing him with wide panicked eyes, more than half of your makeup still incomplete.

He laughs at your expression. “It’s fine, baby, take your time."

"It's only 7:20,” he reassures you, kissing the side of your head before reaching down for his toothbrush.

You sigh in relief, shifting slightly to the side so that you and Mattheo can share the sink.

"What's your first class, baby?" he asks, though it's muffled by the toothpaste in his mouth so it sounds more like: was’ yo firz clas, bavi?

You laugh, glancing at his reflection through the mirror.

"DADA," you answer as he rinses out his mouth. "Without you, unfortunately."

He sighs. "Shame."

He attempts to tame his hair slightly and you stop what you're doing to watch him adoringly, he catches you staring and grins at you.

He turns to face you properly when you reach up expectantly. He bends down slightly while you tiptoe so you can reach his hair, you gently detangle some of his curls.

"Cute!" you compliment when you’re done, he laughs and stands to his full height again. 

"Thanks, baby,” he says, before kissing your nose as to not smudge the lipgloss you just applied. “I’ll go get us a seat first, join me when you're done?”

You nod, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Careful not to get caught sneaking out!” you call out when he’s about to leave your room.

“Please, who do you think you’re talking to?" he calls back smugly.

The door shuts and you shake your head, smiling to yourself.

♡ 8:00 - breakfast

Breakfast opens at 7:30, so the great hall is already crowded and lively when you enter at 8.

Luckily, there’s a seat and a plate saved for you at the Slytherin table.

Your friends greet you when you approach the table. Although they all seem half asleep (and half dead), they try their best to smile and greet you very nicely. You greet them with a bright smile and a cheerful "hello!"

Your energy this early in the morning will never not astonish them.

You take your seat next to Mattheo and he wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you closer.

“Sweetheart, settle this debate for us will you?” Enzo calls.

Besides you, Mattheo rolls his eyes at the nickname — he coined it for you first — but turns to look at you in anticipation nonetheless. You turn to Enzo. “What is it?”

Pansy rolls her eyes. “Nothing, just their stupid dick measuring contests.”

Your eyes widen.

“Not actually!" Enzo says quickly. "Holy shit, it’s a figure of speech.”

You relax, sighing in relief.

“Alright, then,” you say. “What’s the debate?”

“We want to know who you think would win in a fight between all of us.” Theo says.

“Like, a five-way fight between all of you?" you let out a soft laugh, furrowing your brows. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask, I’m really biased—”

Mattheo smirks.

“Hang on, it’s Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo and I.” Theo says, confused. “Who’s the fifth person?”

“Pansy.”

Mattheo laughs at your statement, understanding immediately where your loyalties and bias lie.

“She’s not a part of this.” Theo says. Pansy rolls her eyes.

“Why not?” you say innocently, picking at your fruit cup. “My money’s on her.”

♡ 9:00 - first classes

Defence Against the Dark Arts (a double lesson!), charms & potions. It would be absolute hell if you didn’t have Mattheo next to you for the latter two classes.

You spend the classes drawing hearts on his hand, playing tic tac toe on the corner of your class assignment worksheet & occasionally listening to the professor, definitely!

You doze off somewhere in the middle of Snape's lecture, head resting on Mattheo's arm. He knows that his arm will be numb after the class but he really can't find it in himself to care.

You blink, waking up slowly. You stare, with bleary eyes, at Mattheo’s wrist watch.

"20 more minutes, angel," he murmurs, low enough so you can hear it, an amused smile on his face.

You pout, sitting up straight. You try your best to make sense of the blackboard, narrowing your eyes at the unfamiliar words.

Mattheo nudges his notebook in your direction.

"You wrote notes?" you ask incredulously.

He smirks. "Figured you'd need them, Sleepy.”

You roll your eyes at the teasing nickname, but catch up on the lesson through the familiar handwriting. You notice a small “hi sweetheart i love you ♡” written on the top corner of the page. 

His hand inches closer to your free hand on your lap, interlacing your fingers as his eyes stay trained on the board.

♡ 12:00 - lunch

Per your idea, Mattheo's entire friend group (and now yours, too, really) eats their lunches outside in the grass area — like a makeshift picnic.

"The weather's so lovely, I'm surprised more people don't eat outside," you hum as the group spreads your blanket underneath a shaded area.

"Yeah, who wouldn't want to eat with bugs?" Enzo says sarcastically before wincing when Theo smacks the back of his head over his comment. Your mood is undisrupted, though, as you cheerfully wave to a bird a few inches away from you before it flies away. 

Mattheo puts a bowl of freshly washed (by him, of course) strawberries in front of you. Enzo grins and reaches a hand out, it's slapped away by Mattheo.

"What the fuck, Mattheo?" he whines.

"They're for her," he says with a flat look, gesturing to you.

"I don't mind sharing," you say placatingly, ever the peacekeeper. Pansy snorts.

"Bad idea sharing food with Enzo, you turn around for half a second and it's all gone," she says.

Mattheo nods his head. "Exactly."

"Everyone's protecting her and no one's protecting me," he grumbles under his breath, but he decidedly keeps his hands to his own food for the rest of the picnic.

You laugh, grabbing a strawberry and lifting it to Mattheo's mouth.

He raises his eyebrow at the gesture, you laugh and push the strawberry closer to his mouth. He rolls his eyes but parts his lips for you anyway. 

You smile, pleased, before squealing when his tongue makes contact with your finger.

"Gross, Mattheo!" you laugh, wiping your finger on his shirt.

He smirks and tugs you closer to him. You pretend to fight him out of his grasp before relaxing on his lap.

♡ 1:30 - back to class

The next few classes are harder to get through as they very much lack Mattheo. At least you have Pansy right next to you as you dutifully finish the classwork assigned to you, despite her insistence on distracting you.

“This girl is just so delusional,” Pansy says, twirling her pen.

“That’s mean,” you say, unfocused, eyes still darting back and forth across the page as you try your best to complete the equation.

She raises her eyebrows.

“She spread a rumour about me and called me a ‘slut’ who wanted her ugly ass boyfriend,” she says.

“Oh,” you say, pursing your lips. “Carry on then.”

She smiles, self-satisfied. You turn to her.

“What’d you get for question 5?” 

She looks down at her paper before looking back up at you.

“America?” she says, you frown.

“Pans, this is math.” She shrugs in response.

You huff and put down your pen, deciding you’ve done the best you can do and it’s time for a break. 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you bite back a smile. There’s only a few people you haven't silenced notifications from.

matty <3 — sleep over tonight? (15:05) — i’ve got a surprise for you after quidditch (15:06)

You bite your cheek, texting back under the table as discreetly as you can. 

sweetheart ♡ — yes please!!!! <3 <3 (15:08)

Pansy gives you a knowing smirk, spotting the giddiness of your body language.

“I know exactly who you’re texting,” she teases.

“Shut up!” you laugh, shoving at her. 

♡ 4:00 - afterschool

Your energy is almost completely depleted by the time you make it back to your dorm room, so you slip into more comfortable clothes and nestle yourself under the covers to take a quick nap.

When you wake up half an hour later, your groggy vision is half covered by ginger fur. You smile, reaching to curl your arm around your (and Mattheo’s) newly rescued and adopted kitten. You figure Mattheo must have dropped her off at your dorm before he went to Quidditch.

“Hi Honey,” you coo her name, petting her fur. She purrs responsively, nuzzling her face against your palm.

Originally, you had named her Sweetheart. But after you turned your head every time Mattheo called her name, you had to change it to something you were not called. Well, frequently called.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you say before teasing. “You like my dorm more than Mattheo’s, don’t you?”

Honey says (or meows) nothing in response. You sigh dramatically.

“I get it, you don’t want to hurt Mattheo’s feelings.”

She meows which you take as a response, you laugh, petting her. “It’s okay, Honey, I think Mattheo likes my dorm more, too.”

You spend the rest of your late afternoon reading your new book, placing post-it notes on the top of one of the pages as a reminder to yourself to tell Mattheo how the love interest reminds you of him. 

♡ 6:00 - dinner

You balance two stacked plates on one hand while scooping excessive amounts of food on top with the other. A girl across the dining table from you gives you an odd look, you smile unabashedly at her.

You sit back down in your seat and begin to separate the portions of food onto the two plates.

“Babe, that’s so sad,” Pansy snorts from across from you. “It’s like no one’s feeding you and you have to ration your food.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s for Mattheo.”

“Well, of course I know that,” Pansy says.

Finally, the Slytherin boys trudge through the door — freshly showered after training and still loud and rowdy with boisterous energy. They make their way over to your table.

“Hi baby, miss me?” Mattheo says, placing a haste kiss on the side of your head before sitting next to you.

“Sure,” you say teasingly to him, before turning to the whole group. “How was quidditch?”

“Killer,” Theo says, “Flint was pissed today, so, apparently, we all have to suffer.”

You cautiously eye the brunette a few tables away.

“Yikes,” you say, sliding the plate over to Mattheo. He digs in immediately before pausing to look up at you. He swallows his food.

“Thank you,” he says politely, you laugh and bump his shoulder with yours.

You frown when you realise your bite of food contains something you hate, you look over at Mattheo, scrunching up your face.

He laughs and signals for you to give it to him, so you happily pile it onto his plate.

♡ 7:00 - movie night with mattheo

After dinner, the two of you sneak your way into his dorm. You change out of your robes and into a pair of shorts you left in his room and one of his muggle band t-shirts. It hits just above your knee and it smells like him. 

Not for the first time, his scent clinging onto the t-shirt brings you back to the first time you met. Who knew that the scent wafting from that cauldron of amorentia potion would be the same one that would cling to everything you own all this time later. 

You lie back in his bed while he gets changed himself, you let your eyes close.

"I'm glad you've made yourself comfortable," his teasing voice rings out. You open your eyes to smile at him, not bothering to get up. He walks over to you and the mattress dips.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," you say back smiling, you sit up and lean against his headboard. Suddenly remembering the text message he sent you what feels like ages ago. "What's the surprise?"

He grins at the reminder.

"Remember that old muggle movie you wanted to watch last week... what was it called?” he asks as you try your best to recall. “It starred that actress you love." 

You frown in thought before your eyes light up in realisation.

"Oh! Audrey Hepburn," you say.

A week ago, during one of your Muggle Movie Nights (as you call it), Mattheo had admitted that he’d never seen an Audrey Hepburn film and you proclaimed that he absolutely had to start with Roman Holiday. Determined to culture your boyfriend and desperate to rewatch it yourself, the two of you scoured every streaming site to find it — to no avail.

"Did you finally find a way to pirate it?" you ask gleefully, he shakes his head softly before moving to his desk.

"Not exactly."

He opens his desk drawer, pulling out a DVD with the familiar title on the cover. You gasp, reaching to grab it. You trace the red letters on the cover. 

"How did you find this? Where did you find this?” you ask in disbelief, looking up at him. “When did you even have time to look for this?"

His grin is soft with affection for you.

"I found it in a store in Hogsmeade,” he shrugs. “No big deal."

Total lie. In reality, he had dragged Theo and Enzo through the entire village, stopping at every CD/DVD store just to browse the titles. Eventually, after the sky had turned dark and his friends were ready to abandon him on his impossible search, he found a copy.

Not that you had to know any of that. Besides, the huge smile on your face made it all worth it to him.

"Shall we watch it?" he asks, already slipping it into the DVD player connected to his laptop.

You nod, curling into his side. “I can’t believe you have a DVD player, you’re such an old man.”

“Hey, this old man is your knight in shining armour, princess,” he argues, wrapping his arms around you. 

“You’re right, you are,” you murmur, while the black and white title card of Roman Holiday displays on his laptop.

♡ 9:00 - getting unready for bed

After the movie (and after he consoles you, while trying hard to suppress his laughter, when you cry over the ending), he sits on your bed while you swipe makeup wipes across your face. 

As much as Mattheo adores watching you get ready, there’s something he loves so much about watching you get unready. 

There’s something so intimate in getting to see you completely bare and completely yourself.

You gently rub moisturiser onto your face and catch him staring at you through the mirror, you breathe out a laugh.

“What?” you ask.

A year ago, you’d be slightly mortified if he saw you like this. You’re confident enough without makeup but you still like that extra boost a good eyelash day or lipgloss can give you.

Now, you finish your routine and walk closer to him. Stepping in between his thighs. 

His hands come up to rest on your hips, smiling up at you.

“Nothing,” he says. “You’re just the prettiest thing on earth.”

You laugh and roll your eyes at his hyperbole, but it's not enough for him. He’s certain you’re the most beautiful being in the universe. 

♡ 10:00 - late night talking with mattheo

You’re lying on your stomach, half of your upper body lying on his chest. Your pointer finger traces his arm slowly, like his veins are braille and his scars are stars.

“Would you ever get a tattoo?” you murmur.

“I’ve thought about it,” he smiles lazily, eyes half closed.

“Yeah? Tattoos would suit you,” you hum. "What would you get?"

“What do you think I should get?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say, deep in thought. “I could see you with one of those barbed wire designs or your initials or—"

“Your name?” he interrupts with a smirk.

You huff out a laugh and roll your eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m not kidding. I'd do it right now,” he says, only half joking. 

“Mattheo!” you scold, though the effect is ruined by your giggle. “You’re way too young and that is also a horrible idea.”

“First of all, I’m older than you.”

“By, like, a few months.”

“And I would totally do it, in a heartbeat,” he promises. “No matter what happens, I’m yours forever. You already know.” 

You smile. “That’s a little romantic.”

"I'm very romantic, thank you very much," he huffs.

"Yeah, you are."

He glances down at you before looking up at the ceiling again.

“Besides, before you know it, we’ll be eighteen,” he says.

There’s a short lull of silence as you process his words.

“That’s crazy to think about,” you say, leaning your head into his chest again.

“Yeah.”

“I still feel like I'm sixteen years old and six and eight and thirteen,” you admit, hoping he understands what you mean. “I don’t know if I ever won’t.”

“I get that,” he says with a small nod. "I can't imagine you're much different now than when you were six, though."

You gasp half-heartedly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not an insult," he chuckles. "I just can't imagine you ever being anything but yourself."

You look at him properly now, tilting your head up.

“I know what you mean,” you say. “That’s kind of sweet.”

You scrunch your nose when you imagine your younger self.

“When I was younger, I wanted to be a princess—”

“Very on brand,” he quips.

“I also wanted to be a teacher at some point,” you say. “An English teacher, I think?”

“You’d make a good teacher,” he says.

“Really?” he nods.

“Thanks,” you yawn. “Did you have a dream job when you were younger?”

He answers after a small beat of silence.

“I wanted to be a great sorcerer.” It’s only partly a lie.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell you that when he was younger, the concept of “dreams” and aspirations were foreign to him. Instead, there were expectations. Heavy expectations placed on him by his parents or Death Eaters.

Though, meeting you when he was sixteen has taught him to dream. Maybe one day he’ll tell you that and thank you for it. 

Instead, he adds. “Or a professor — a charms professor, probably.” 

“You’d be so good at that,” you say genuinely. 

His arm curls around your shoulders, pulling you in closer.

You play with the watch on his wrist, counting the watch hands and realising that it’s almost eleven.

“You never take anything off when you sleep,” you murmur. 

He looks down at his hand — at the watch around his wrist, the bracelet you made him, a silver band ring he wears on his middle finger and his signet ring carved with his initials. You fiddle with that last ring. 

Mattheo wordlessly slips off his signet before bringing your hand up. He slips the ring onto your thumb.

He kisses the ring on your hand and you let out a breathy laugh. He locks eyes with you for a moment before shifting so that you’re underneath him.

He places the mass of his body weight on his elbows, but you can still feel him pressing close as he plants kisses down your neck.

Your eyes become half lidded as you melt under him. You fight to suppress a yawn, hoping he doesn’t notice. You want him to touch you like this forever.

He chuckles. “Sweetheart.” 

"Yeah?" you murmur, fighting to keep your heavy eyelids open. He lifts his head to look at you. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” he says.

You shake your head quickly, looking at him with wide eyes. “No, no.”

He laughs. “M’just teasing, baby. We should sleep, it’s getting late.”

“But I want to talk to you longer,” you frown, your lips forming a pout. 

"We have all of tomorrow," he says warmly. "We've got time."

♡ 11:00 - goodnight, sweetheart

By 11, you’re tucked into his side fast asleep. Your hair rollers poke into his chest ever so slightly but he's used to it by now, it's familiar.

He keeps his phone brightness on the lowest setting as he reads to pass the time. His insomnia keeps him from sleeping most nights and, though sleeping next to you helps him significantly, it’s still always there hindering him. 

He doesn’t tell you, though. Because he knows you’d pry your eyes open to keep yourself from falling asleep, just to keep him company. Instead, you get to fall asleep quickly beside him. 

He feels his heart swell when he looks down at you. Your lips part as you snore and he laughs, shaking his head fondly. 

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

Mattheo puts down his phone before carefully flicking off your bedside lamp. He prays sleep will come soon as he lets his body relax close to yours. 

♡ 1:00 - goodnight, mattheo

In his younger years, Mattheo often misunderstood violence for love.

Growing up in that castle, within those cold walls, he learnt that love was pain. Naturally, he wanted to flee from it.

Throughout his teen years, he feared the day he'd fall in love because he believed it would only give a person the opportunity to hurt him. 

Now, he understands he had it all wrong. Love is not loud and frightening like heavy shoes storming through rooms and rough hands slamming doors, love is not the piercing silence between two people.

Love is his rough hand in your soft one, it’s his ring on your finger like a promise he hasn’t made yet, it’s the music the two of you love, it’s the movies you watch, it’s strawberries on a picnic, it's the sound of your heartbeat syncing to his, it’s sleeping beside you — it’s a comfortable thing.

As it turns out, love is a quiet thing that hums louder than real noise. He can feel — more than hear — it everywhere, thrumming through his veins or in his head when he looks at you.

No matter how fleeting, he knows now that loving someone, even at the cost of pain, is always worth it just for this feeling.

But he knows you’ll stay. Maybe forever, if he gets his way. If not? He doesn’t feel that sickening urge to leave claw marks on you to keep you in his grasp, he just wants to be close to you now while he can. 

There’s no place close enough to you, though. So, for now, he sleeps with his arms tight around you and hopes it’s enough to mould your souls together for eternity.

thank you to all my readers — whether you've been here since the first fic, the last one or any in between <3. i hope you caught some of the references and callbacks in this fic & i hope you liked it !! know that you can always send in requests for sweetheart!reader & mattheo because i'll probably continue writing for them as long as this blog is alive ♡

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Zuko sucks at flirting and specifically being brazen.

He’s been on approximately 45 dates in the past year… and not one lady has been interested. Or rather they have been, until he opens his mouth.

But not even that; if there was one thing Zuko was absolutely embarrassed about, it was his lack of experience when it comes to sex. He was a virgin, a prude, and shuddered at the thought of having to have his first with some random woman he never met.

There was even one time the council suggested concubines due to his lack of courting success… but there was no way in hell he’d do that (since… as disgustingly sweet as it is… he wanted to be an intimate relationship with someone he considered close).

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he’s put off so many of those candidates, but a small part of him sulked at the fact that he’s going to have to have a wife sooner or later, and then have an heir. He sulked at the idea that it would be rushed and he wouldn't even love this person he was to marry.

“I can help you.”

Zuko’s lips pressed to a fine line, looking at your direction to see any reaction. Your face was completely neutral. There you were, sipping your tea while looking down, all with the most neutral expression in the world as if Zuko, the Fire Lord, didn't just tell you about his embarrassing celibacy.

He’s always told you his dilemmas, and this was no different. You’d always come up with a solution or compromise, but for some reason, he felt especially… on edge.

You’ve known Zuko since you two were children, as he attended the same school as you did for a few years before you and your father were officially promoted to head staff, and you, Zuko’s handmaiden.

Zuko remembers how you always followed him back in his childhood—answering to every beck and call; he remembers how sweet you were, how compassionate too, and how you’d encourage him when it came to Fire Bending.

You never showed a sign of protest when it came to anything, always a neutral look on your face.

And he couldn’t lie, you were absolutely stunning (despite said neutral look), but he couldn’t help but be put off even more. To be honest, you were more attractive than any of the candidates he's encountered (but who is he to say anything...).

“R-Really?” His skin turned flushed.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sipping your tea calmly like you didn’t almost cause for Zuko mentally break. You were currently sitting across from him, drinking tea with just him in the room while you listened to his problems like always. “I’m not some random woman, aren’t I? I can teach you.”

You were too damn casual.

He nodded hesitantly. “No, you’re not.”

He’ll admit, he has to get with the times. Not many people are saving their chastity and he has to stop being scared. Especially when it comes to wanting to romance others.

“And how so? How would you teach me?”

You shot him a smile. “Trust in me, my Lord. Everything shall be situated.

Zuko cleared his throat, glancing once more at your neutral face and nodded gently. “When do you suggest we start?”

You looked up—eyes brighter than ever. “Whenever you’d like, my Lord.”

lesson one: foreplay

Zuko thought it over, coming to a conclusion two days later and then asking you to come to his chambers later at night where the rest of the staff wouldn’t see you.

He sat there, robe hastily put on and sat there awkwardly at the corner of his bed, waiting. And then he began thinking.

Zuko’s known you for a while—you’ve been at his service for a long time. Hell, there was even a moment in time where he had a crush on you.

It was back when he would stride alongside his mother around the palace, constantly meeting your eyes every time he glanced over where your father would be working. Then you’d smile at him and his heart would be pounding; his mother knew, maybe even Azula knew—she’d certainly mess with you sometimes, but overall respected you (more than him at least).

Sure, you were a “servant”, but it’s obvious that you were a great Firebender. He remembers how he’d have trouble sleeping as a kid and walk off to the courtyard where you’d be there in a small corner, practicing Fire Bending and moving so graceful, it appeared almost like you were dancing.

Even when he got banished, he’d think of you. When he’d look at the stars, he’d think of how your eyes would shine every time you made eye contact.

And now you’re in this situation? He feels sheepish for almost exposing this vulnerability to you…

Zuko jumped at the sound of a knock at his door being knocked, walking fast towards it and swinging it open rather quickly.

“Get in, get in.” He turned around all too fast, his back facing you in sheer embarrassment that he’d even have to ask this of you.

And of course you could tell; you always could. “My Lord, please don’t be embarrassed about this. It is simply educating you on your sexuality; nothing wrong with that.”

“Right…” He walked to the bed slowly and sat down, his eyes following your figure slowly approaching him.

He can’t deny it; you looked beautiful. Your nightly robes were a pretty white, its sheer fabric covering your body nicely and your nipples poking out in the fabric.

But as much as Zuko’s eyes were on your breasts, he quickly averted his eyes to you the moment you cleared your throat. You were holding a book…

“And that?” You smiled at his question.

“This is erotic literature. Clear source material in order to work as an example on what to do.”

He blinked awkwardly, whereas your smile was still glued onto your face. You opened the book to a specific page, being bookmarked by a folded piece of parchment.

Perhaps Zuko was out of his mind—or maybe he already was (because why the hell else would he even be in this situation in the first place?), but he couldn’t stop staring at you reading. God, he knew he was a prude but to get aroused by watching you lick your index finger every time you flipped a page? He felt his pants get tight and his mouth dry.

“Do I have permission to proceed?” He looked away, his face burning with embarrassment. “I guess.”

“So… first, you hold their face and look into their eyes.”

Before he knew it, you leaned closer, holding his face and  looking deep into his eyes. Your eyes softened and the moonlight peeking through the curtains hit your irises—the color almost instantly becoming more vibrant.

“After that, lean closer…”

Then you just began kissing him. Zuko’s eyes felt like they were going to pop out; your lips were warm, plush and soft. You tasted sweet, like the pastries you’d make him on occasion.

Then your tongue slowly went in his mouth the sloppier the kiss went. Your hands cupping his face pulled him closer to you the more you kissed him.

But as Zuko was starting to get used to the pace of your lips, you stopped, pulling back.

He felt his heart race, blinking profusely like he was embarrassed.

The Fire Lord? Getting like this over a measly kiss? He can already imagine Aang and Sokka making fun of him should he ever accidentally tell this about this encounter.

“That was good, my Lord,” you smiled. “Maybe you don’t even need my teachings.”

“O-Oh…” He panicked, mouth going dry. “Um… I believe I still do…”

And damn, you smiled so kindly. “Okay then please position yourself and sit against the headboard, my Lo—“

“Zuko.”

He winced—God, did he really just say that? Your eyes widened a fragment and you blinked. “Sir, are you sure I can refer to you by your name?”

“We are practicing intimacy,” he looked away while saying this and was glad the moonlight wasn’t hitting him or else you’d see how absolutely flustered he was.

“Referring to each other by our given names is one of the most intimate things. I’d like to try it with you too.”

Only then he looked at you when he heard a light laugh slipping from you. “Okay, Zuko.”

Fuck, you said his name so pretty too… You said it like it was something precious; softly enunciating the consonants and not spewing it harshly like how he’s known for almost all his life.

He felt his heart race faster, observing how you slowly got on the bed and planted your knees on the sides of his thighs, straddling him. You then sat on his lap, your crotch against his, and from your small smile forming on your face, he can tell you’ve taken note of his evident hard-on.

“Now let’s try what we did again, but in this position!”

You sounded far too enthusiastic about this…

He blinked, awkwardly. He didn't know what to do. Hell, if he were to compare being in a room full of generals and his finest soldiers, he would consider that much easier than being stuck between your body and the wall.

Your eyes followed his hands, which were placed beside your thighs and you could sense how shaky they were. He let out a small gasp the moment you grabbed his forearms and led them to wrap around your waist.

“You can touch me, sir.” He nodded slowly and grabbed at your waist hesitantly.

Your lips met his again, except with more fervor. Like you were trying to get a taste of a candy you haven't tasted in years, with your head slightly rotated. Your hands roamed around his upper torso, with your slim fingers caressing on the scar on his chest; it was as light as a feather on his skin.

Zuko could feel his heart beat so. Damn. Fast. So much so that he felt overwhelmed and light-headed and aroused, but also nervous if he was doing this right.

Your hips began grinding against his, hands tangled in his hair while you let his hands travel across your skin. His callous fingertips lightly brushed on your warm skin under your shirt, on your hips.

But when he was kissing you, he couldn’t help but still feel so nervous—to be at such proximity to you and to be able totally touch you like this.

Then you pulled back and got off of him. As soon as he was in bliss, you quickly ended it. He couldn’t atop the quite upset expression he had on his face, noted by you.

“Don’t worry, sir. I must stop now since we are only at the beginning. According to this book, kissing intensely while grinding against one’s gene—“

“Okay… I get it. You’re dismissed.”

He laid on his bed, attempting to catch his breath before you spoke again. This time, without a blank look on your face and tone. You smiled so sweetly…

“It’s cute, but we have to work on your hesitation, sir. Please keep that in mind for our next lesson.”

He nodded, finally relaxing his body the minute you shut the door. You stole his first “make-out”. Sure, he’s kissed girls (and by girls, he means just Mai), but not like this.

Not like you wanted to practically taste them while caressing their face and pulling hair.

“Fuck…” he groaned. “What am I going to do with you..?”

And… he grimaced. He was still hard.

lesson two: fellatio + cunnilingus

For the next lesson, you had him sprawled out on the canopy bed of his chamber. Zuko swore he could fucking hear his heartbeat…

He glanced over at you, once again reading your "source material" pornographic novel, and felt his heart beat into his chest. Your previous lesson didn't inherently lead to any sex, rather it was foreplay that left him all hot and bothered the moment you left. 

All you did was grind against him and kiss, and you had him practically burning for more. And now, here he was, at your mercy. You were kneeled on the bed beside him while you really examined what to do. He could tell how your expression shifted from one of amusement to one of slightly shock, and then you closed the book.

“Now we are trying oral sex!” Once again, he couldn’t help but be nervous at your demeanor.

“Okay…”

“Actually, oral sex is also considered foreplay for some before penetrative sex! But, I didn’t want to rush you and also considered how flustered you got after last session, I decided it was enough!”

Zuko stared at you blankly. “Right…”

You spoke so academically? Blankly? You’re kind and listen to his dilemmas, but he feels unsure. When the both of you were making out, he was the one that was all hot and bothered while you simply left. Was he that terrible at this? Granted, it was his first time making out with someone while touching their body like that, but really?

He wonders how you get during sex… if you’re just as blank or if you—

“Okay! I will strip myself, then you now.”

You then began to peel off your upper half, where Zuko made eye contact with your pretty breasts. He’s never seen a woman’s breasts before like this, but yours looked beautiful. Really beautiful. Like a nice dumpling... Is that even a good comparison? What the hell is he thinking?

His eyes widened at how quick you leaned over, sliding his pants fast and exposing his dick, all hard and resting on his abdomen.

“Now please let me show you how to indulge in fellatio.”

You took his tip in your mouth, tongue swirling on his leaking tip and pressing on his shaft. It was too quick.

“Hahh—fuck…” Zuko closed his eyes, almost in disbelief that you were actually doing this.

You then took him whole in your mouth while stroking him at the base of his cock. You looked so cute, just cheeked hollowed out while you sucked him off.

You stopped for a moment, still stroking his cock while looking up at him with those damn pretty eyes of yours. “Now, if you want, you can also push my head a bit in case you would like a more pleasurable experience according to the book!”

And just like that, you latched your lips on his length, bopping your head up and down while your tongue dragged on his sensitive veins. He was itching for a release, and clearly you could tell too.

“You can also ejaculate in my mouth if you so choose!”

And just at that moment, he did, with spurts of cum unloading in your mouth. Then you swallowed… Shit…

Zuko took a moment to catch his breath, panting a bit before speaking again.

“Now let me do it to you.”

And for the first time, you looked hesitant. “Ca-Can you repeat your question again—?”

“Can’t I indulge in oral sex with you?”

Your eyes widened like they were going to pop out of your skull. “I-I mean yes…but it isn’t necessarily proper.”

Zuko pushed you on the bed by your shoulders, making you lie down, where he got off the bed and stood over you.

“If you are to educate me on my sexuality, not only would I like to learn how to receive but to give.”

He leaned towards you and grabbed the book beside you, flipping to the page you bookmarked talking about cunnilingus.

“Here we go…” He couldn’t lie that he felt nervous, but for some reason, just being in such an intimate situation where you were nervous as well, made him want to act more brazen. To take some type of authority.

“Do I have your permission to proceed?”

You blinked, your face feeling like it’s on fire, and nodded. “Only if you want, my Lo—Zuko.”

He kneeled on the floor, taking off your pants and underwear down and being face to face with your cunt.

Of course, Zuko’s taken anatomy during school and has gotten a diagram on how female and male anatomy look like: all technical.

But as he’s kneeled down, he can’t help but marvel at how pretty you look. Your sex was dripping with your arousal and as soon as you took note on how he was staring, you instinctively attempted to shut your thighs. Like a flower, almost. His eyes traced your body, all stiff and hesitant like you were anxious.

“Please don’t do that; let me make you feel good…”

Zuko grabbed your thighs, dragging you closer to him, and slowly kissed at your inner thighs, leading to your cunt.

Your breathing was shallow, shaky—and you were so evidently shy.

He lapped at your cunt, tasting your essence and going insane off it. He took one hand and placed it above your abdomen, two fingers spreading your labia apart and went at it.

Zuko was almost technical with his movements, kneading your plush thighs like bread dough and cupping his mouth around the top of your slit. His tongue began to piston inside you, going side to side and in figure-8 motions. He attempted to heat up his tongue even, to make the experience maybe a bit more pleasurable, all the while your thighs were crushing his head and you were…crying?

“O-Ohh my God…! Zuko—!” You were whining, your voice so high pitched that he had to do a double take. Your voice usually was derived of emotion, but you were in absolutely bliss. “Hahhh… that’s so so good—!”

He began rubbing your clit with the bridge of his nose, feeling how you twitched every time he was grinding his nose against it.

And then you pulled on his hair, shoving his face in your cunt further. Your back arched from the bed, rotating your hips against his face and tangling your fingers within his hair further.

It was too much; you were practically crying out, tears streaming down your face while Zuko ate you out in such a sloppy manner, eliciting the most lascivious sounds to anyone who may walk in. He was practically making out with your pussy, savoring your taste. You were in a trance, practically almost reaching your climax.

Which is why, when the two of you were under your own euphoric state together, did you barely notice a councilman and his entourage barge in his chambers. 

“My Lor—Oh my goodness!”

“Fuck!”

Zuko looked up, already seeing you covering your face with the covers while the councilmen were looking anywhere but the direction of you two.

“W-We shall leave you be…” one spoke, turning abruptly. 

“Wait!”

Zuko abruptly put on his robe, following the councilman and his entourage.

“What is the meaning of this?! You dare infringe on my privacy?”

The councilman turned around, his expression going from embarrassed to slightly relieved.

The great Fire Lord was on his knees eating a woman out scandalously while he was supposed to be on the look-out for a wife.

The Fire Nation needs an heir now, and Zuko has a lover!

And the thing was, you were from a fine family. Your grandfather was an esteemed military officer to his grandfather and father; your mother taught at the military academy, your brother was a current general in the army.

This was perfect… An absolutely perfect candidate for a wife.

“That woman… That woman is to be your betrothed.”

final exam: the night of his wedding

Zuko sat beside you on his bed, looking away. He bit his lip all anxious and afraid to meet your gaze.

It happened too quick. It was uncharacteristic of the council, however apparently someone snitched and you soon became his betrothed, and were to get married in two weeks after he was caught indulging in oral sex with you.

And now, you officially have gotten married, with you being the Fire Lady.

Yeah... You're now the Fire Lady.

He could seriously scream (in rage because he couldn’t court you? In happiness because he actually likes you? In pure disbelief?).

His head turned to your direction, where you were blankly staring at the window. The moon was out and it was shining directly at your face, sporting a rather melancholic expression.

“I-Is everything alright?”

You were biting your lower lip and your eyes looked glossy, almost like you were stopping yourself from crying.

“Y-Ye—“ “Be honest with me.”

Your eyes met his and then, did the tears slip down your face and your lip quivering.

“I’m so—hic—so sorry… I can’t begin to express how sorry I am to you, Zuko.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, a pit settling in his stomach at the thought of being the reason for your tears. “What do you mean? Why are you apologizing?”

“I-I—Your wife! I s-stopped you from marrying your true love! A-And I’m so so sorry!” You were bawling at this point, lightly clutching Zuko’s robes and head crouched down in shame.

“Wait what?” He lifted your head up by your chin and saw how you were looking up at him with apologetic eyes.

Your breathing was shaky and you couldn’t look him in the eyes, making Zuko’s heart hurt. 

He hesitated. He didn’t know how to make someone feel better if they were sad—let alone a woman and someone he feels strongly about. His everything hurts looking at you cry. 

So he tried something he’s never done, but reminded him of his mother.

“Here,” he whispered, holding your shaky hands. His thumbs caressed small circles on your palms, and you slowly looked up at him with eyes that were still overflowing with tears. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. At all. Don’t ever think that…” He held eye contact that made you cry even more. “My wife.”

At that moment, it felt so natural. You slowly leaned in, caressing his scarred cheek and running your fingertips through his skin, and kissed him. 

It felt all too natural, to be undressing you from your new formal nightly gown, and to lay you down on the bed beneath him.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to… We don’t have to consummate this marriage.”

“I do. I want to.” You said it all too quickly, looking away like you were flustered and destroying whatever nonchalant neutral façade you had been building. 

The truth of the matter was that you love him and have been for years. And to think that you almost stopped him from “getting his true love”, you felt terrible during the two weeks the council forbid you see your husband until your wedding ceremony.

“I want to see you, Y/N.” It was the first time he’d ever say your name so gently while being face to face with you, and he felt a pit in his stomach just looking at your soft smile.

He kept eye contact while he stroked himself, hesitant on touching you.

“Okay…” you whispered quietly.

He began rubbing your slit with his cock, spreading your arousal on his length and paying attention to your clit. 

“I… I learned something from the book during these two weeks I haven’t seen you.”

You blinked and suddenly gasped. 

Zuko placed a hand above your abdomen and began plunging his index and middle finger into your pussy and thrusting them in and out, eliciting a string of lewd shlick! sounds that echoed around your chambers. 

Your eyes tightened, holding his muscular forearm as he continued. Your gummy walls clenched on his thick, quick fingers curling inside of you and hitting that spot. 

“Hahh… keep going. So so…good.” 

A sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeak slipped from your lips at the sight of Zuko sticking his middle and index fingers into his mouth, sucking on them. 

“My Lord—!”

He smiled, a sense of pride overtaking him at your sudden shock. “Can’t I know how my wife tastes like? You taste simply divine, my wife.”

“Oh my—!” You squeaked, using your forearm to hide your flustered expression and beginning to roll your hips against nothing. Your clit still ached in anticipation for that friction he gave.

Zuko’s nimble fingers traced your goosebump-ridden skin and he cupped your left breast while his lips went further down to your other one. “You’re so damn beautiful, my wife. All mine...”

The pit in your stomach grew and you looked away, embarrassed and aroused. 

“Please…touch me further.”

It was silent between the both of you for a moment; the wing in which the both of you were at was silent, and you could hear your heavy heartbeat in your ears the longer you kept eye contact with your husband’s golden eyes, pleading with you. 

“Let me pleasure you…Y/N. Please.”

You nodded your head slowly and bit your lip, your gaze trailing down onto your husband’s cock again, practically on the verge of cumming. 

“Darling—please,” his golden eyes gazed at you, your flushed face and hesitant expression, and he smiled softly. 

He felt nervous. What if he didn’t like sex? What if you didn’t like it? As much as he can call you darling, he was a nervous wreck internally.

“L-Let me know if it hurts. Please. I will stop.”

You nodded and dug your nails on his gentle skin, creating crimson crescents in their wake.

And just like that, your husband penetrated you while holding you so gently. Your lips pursed and your eyes followed where his were: at your cunt. The skin of the base of his cock wrinkled the moment he bottomed out in you and gleamed with your arousal when he moved his hips. Zuko hissed, his breathing becoming jagged and heavy.

“M-Move…Faster, Zuko!” He rocked his hips into you, holding your arms down against the sand. Your supple breasts bounced with every harsh thrust. 

Oh, Zuko appeared as if he was going to lose it. You were just so beautiful and you were all his now.

Your eyebrows pinched together, lower lip bitten down, and tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Oh my God!” Every move of his was fast, pistoning himself into you with ferocity that you slapped your hand on your mouth to stop squeaking. You felt bad for whatever maid or guard was outside hearing you cry out your husband’s name.

Zuko leaned towards you, latching his lips onto your jawline, where he left soft kisses in their wake. His cock dragged lazily against your velvety walls, clenching against him like a damn vice.

“Ahh—nghh…Z-Zuko—!” Your legs clung onto his hips lazily, body arching onto his while your arms covered your face. He’d slowly pull his hips away and slam into you so lasciviously.

Even if he did not replicate the same growing emotions you had for him, you still found yourself wanting more. Your hips bucked against his and you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him again.

“You feel so good, my Lord…” you whispered, against his lips as you tasted him.

Your legs clung onto his waist, feeling his hips buck and thrusts slowly become less consistent. “Let me make you feel good forever, my love…”

Oh…

He flipped you, to be on top of him. The moment he bottomed out inside you, you let out a cry, pressing down on his lower stomach and bounced yourself on his dick.

“Fuck! Oh my—!” God, you looked fucking stunning, with the moon hitting your upper torso and your breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust of his hips upwards. 

“Let me make you mine, Y/N. I beg of you…” He groaned, hissing at how your cunt tightened around him oh so good.

You were crying—like actually crying—rocking your hips and fucking yourself on him back and forth. Zuko felt like he was on cloud nine; you were just too damn perfect.

“Nghh-more! Please!” A wave of euphoria washed over you; it was amazing…something you’ve never experienced before. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?” He paused, noting your labored breathing and maw slack.

Your body felt damn feverish and you could feel how Zuko’s cock twitched inside you, spilling his hot, warm load inside your hole, making you full. 

“F-Fuck…” Zuko wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly tugged you down on him, his head on the crook of your neck as he burried his seed inside you deeper. All warm and filling. 

Your weight was on him and you could hear his heartbeat, both of you breathing heavily. 

“We should… We should do that again. That was nice.” God, you really are perverted.

Or maybe he’s the perverted one for having one hell of a time right now.

“Tomorrow?” “Tomorrow.” He sighed, running his fingers through your hair and feeling your legs’ hold against him become tighter.

But one thing’s for certain: he wouldn’t give this up for the world.

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