bitter me, how sweet of you
hi all! i fear i lost the plot about twenty times. i didn’t really want this to be a two parter but it’s looking like that’s the case sooo yeah! if you see mistakes, no you didn’t
warnings: devin being emotionally unavailable, toxic (but make it sexy), cliffhanger
Nothing more, nothing less. You reread the text a few times over trying to decipher his mood. He played differently tonight. He was aggressive, more so than usual. It started typical, arguing with the refs after every call, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath. Then you realized he had that annoyed, never satisfied energy about him that carried through all four quarters and now into your personal overtime.
You sat still, legs crossed in your seat a few rows behind the court, your ears still ringing from the crowd roaring and the DJ mixes that played nonstop for the past two hours.
You saw it coming the minute he stepped on the court, his eyes finding your immediately. It was quick, he barely acknowledged you really, but you felt his energy. His eyes never drifted to you again, not a smile your way after he shot a three or an eyeroll on a foul. Nothing. He gave you nothing like you were just another face in the crowd.
By halftime, a man in an all-black suit appeared at your seat, his expression all business.
“Just checking in,” he said, low enough not to draw attention. Devin’s usual request.
You nodded, offering a polite tight-lipped smile. “I’m fine, thanks”
He hesitated for a second longer than necessary, eyes lingering like he didn’t quite believe you. Then he gave a short nod and stepped away.
The rest of the game flew by in a blur.
One minute there was noise. Distractions. Now you were left to watch the stands clear out and the cleaning crew roll in.
A dreadful pit settled in your stomach because for the first time, you didn’t want to go home.
You sank back into your seat, eyes fixed on the tunnel.
You told yourself you were just waiting. letting traffic sort itself out, killing time.
But when someone finally approached, it wasn’t who you were hoping for. Just the familiar face of security, waiting to lead you back to the garage.
The ringing in your ears only grew louder as you followed him into the doors of the tunnel, the rushed chatter of PR reps and assistants ricocheting off the concrete walls that seemed to be caving in on you the deeper down the hallway you went.
Maybe you were reading into this too much. Everything can’t be perfect all the time, he was allowed an off night even if it meant just with you. In the back of your mind you had lost count how many bad nights there really were.
You got home first, wallowing in the quiet that felt heavy when you walked through the doors. You didn’t bother turning on the TV knowing his name was probably flashing across the screen. His post game interview already circulating on all the news channels in the city. Not having it in you to listen to him ramble to the reporter, still sweating and buzzing from the victory.
Your phone lays next to you on you corner of the couch with no calls, no text, almost mocking you. Part of you wondered if he even cared to check if you arrived in one piece.
The front door clicked open sharply, breaking through the quiet. His footsteps steady and unhurried against the tile. You heart began to pound, every nerve in your body on high alert, a breath hitching in your throat as he neared. He appeared in the foyer with sweats and hoodie drawn over his head and that anxious look that followed him home. You tried not to look for too long, just enough to let him know you acknowledged his presence, but not enough that you were thrilled.
He hesitated, knowing it wouldn’t stay like this once you both spoke.
You sat up a little straighter.
“Hi” you said, softer than you intended, your voice catching.
It was simple, but it carried something heavier, like there were other words pressing just behind it, waiting their turn.
When you looked up, he was already watching you like he’d been waiting, patient, for the exact moment your eyes would meet.
“Sorry I- just didn’t want you to get caught up back there, just wanted you to get home” he blurted, his words coming out rushed yet practiced.
It was past awkward now, the kind where you didn’t know what to say to make it better because nothing was really wrong. It was a foreign feeling being so off put by his presence, feeling like a stranger in a space you shared.
“Don’t do that” he pleaded, almost begging.
You pinched your brows together. “What?”
That was rich coming from someone who didn’t acknowledge your existence all night. You laughed to yourself at his accusation. Call it his guilty conscience.
He noticed, his brows knitted in confusion now.
He studied you, seeing you look anywhere but him.
You shook your head trying to brush it off, you couldn’t help but to add fuel to the already blazing fire.
“Oh nothing” You muttered. “Just didn’t know you wanted my attention now”
His expression hardened slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You shrugged your shoulders, finally looking at him.
“Nothing, it doesn’t mean anything” you said under your breath, playing with your fingers in your lap.
He was good at reading people. Always has been. Had that sixth sense of figuring out someone’s next move before the thought had even crossed their mind. But you? You were unpredictable most times. Didn’t follow patterns. No tells. No signals to decode.
A beat of silence past. He didn’t take his eye off you, not buying your response but still biting the bait.
His posture stiffened. “Whatever”
“Yeah. whatever” You mocked.
Neither of you moved as silence overwhelmed the room. Your eyes began to burn and throat too dry to swallow.
You expected him to walk away. He usually did, he was stubborn like that.
He didn’t this time. He stood there, head leaning against the wall trying to figure out what to say next. Scared to say the wrong words, make the wrong move.
“I’m tired of never getting shit right with you” Frustration seeping through his voice.
“What?” You muttered defensively, body getting hot.
His jaw tightened, almost regretting his words. Almost.
“I’m tired” He repeated, his voice dropping. “No matter what I do, it’s wrong”
A laugh laced with nothing but disbelief left your mouth, eyes blinking at about a 100 miles a second to keep tears from spilling out.
You pressed your lips together, hard enough all the color drained out. Nodding your head at his words- not in agreement but frustration.
“Right” Your voice generic. “The bare minimum too much huh?” Eyes glassy now. You look up at him, somewhat eager for his reaction.
His expression hardened at that, his features bordering cold.
“So….what? You want me to be perfect or something?”
You shook your head no as you began to sit up, preparing to not only exit the living room but this conversation.
“No. Just a little consideration” Standing up with a huff
He bit the inside of his cheek, then shrugged his shoulders, eyes dropping to the floor instead of your face.
It was a cheap shot. You both knew it.
You went numb. Your head tilted slightly, like you didn’t recognize him for a moment. That after everything, it was your fault because you chose to stay.
“Yeah” You nodded, eyes narrowing his frame, taking a step closer to him. “I knew you were an asshole”
His jaw already tight, an annoyed exhale leaving his nose.
“That you were cocky. You had an ego.” You should’ve stopped, but you kept going.
He didn’t react. That made it worse.
“I didn’t walk into this blind Devin” You continue despite your voice getting shaky. “Don’t put this on me”
“You pursued me first, remember?”
His eyes finally shifted to you, but his expression stayed unreadable.
The way he’d find himself going to events because there was a possibility you’d be there. How he’d linger on your instagram a moment too long, rewatching stories needing to get a glimpse into your world like his life depended on it. He knew what nights you went out, what places you liked and who you were with. You had him going to places he swore he hated.
He hated that he couldn't catch your attention. Not the way he was used to, not in the ways that always worked for him. He just needed a look, a smirk, a small detail of interest and he’d have you right where he’d want you.
Your looks never lingered, never caught a double take, your eyes passed over him like he was just another body in the room.
It drove him insane. Because for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have control. He couldn’t deny he liked the chase. The way every step he took towards you, you took 10 steps back.
Then finally, you gave in. One date you told yourself.
It was just dinner, somewhere upscale with dishes on their menu you couldn’t pronounce and the waiter lit things on fire next to you. Tucked away in the corner of the glass enclosed rooftop, you felt it. He was mid story about a summer in Mississippi when you saw through the face of a franchise. You saw past it all. The stardom, the cars, the money and saw just Devin. Suddenly you couldn’t unsee it, the charm that now had you blushing, his quiet humor you didn’t quite understand yet, but laughed anyway. How he was saying all the right things in the dim candle light that accentuated the freckles on his cheek.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
“I don’t know what you want me to say” He muttered, a hand running down his face. “I’m here ain’t I?”
You stared at him for a moment too long, the way he was leaned away from you like he was already halfway out the conversation. You forced a small nod like you understood, even if your chest was too tight to take a breath.
“Yeah, you are” Crossing your arms, agreeing in a way that felt empty.
There was something off about the way you were looking at him, it made him feel uneasy. Your shoulders weren’t tense, your expression unguarded. The thought crossed his mind but he didn’t let it fully form.
Because if he did, he’d have to admit you looked detached. Detached from this conversation, the situation, him.
Not angry. Not frustrated. Just…absent.
He’d never seen that look before. He didn’t like it. The way you were standing there like he wasn’t something worth managing anymore.
He tried to place it, figure out when the room suddenly split in half leaving you both isolated. You were within arms reach but you never felt further, you had hot tears running down your cheeks but you never looked colder.
“You gotta tell me what’s going on” His cheeks flushed red, he looked endearing considering the circumstances. For a second, it almost undid you. You wanted him to pull you in, close the distance like it was second nature, like it was easy.
“I just-” You stop, exhale, try again. “Things feel different”
That gets his attention. Fully, sharply.
You wondered when it stopped being so easy with him. Before a time when every conversation was rehearsed in your head to tailor whatever superficial topic peaked his interest lately. It felt calculated the way you had to tiptoe around his moods to avoid him pulling away, leaving you questioning whether or not he truly gave a damn anymore. Loving him felt like you were constantly second guessing yourself.
“I did think about a life with you- a future” You stop, swallowing hard. The pit in your stomach grows, but you force yourself to finish. “I just don’t know right now”
His expression shifts immediately at the use of past tense you hadn’t realized slipped out.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Eyes narrowing into slits.
You shake your head slightly, taking a step closer to him.
He leans up from against the wall putting up his hands in defense. “Just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you”
“That’s the thing though Devin” Voice quieter, more certain.
“I don’t know what it is that I want” You finished, words bitter on your tongue.
His hands were restless and unsettled against his sides, a habit you recognize far too well. Still fighting for a sense of control over something that’s slipping away in front of him.
“Why are you making problems out of nowhere?” Running a hand down his face, slow and frustrated. He sounded like he was not only trying to convince you, but himself. A small part of him wanted to believe the distance was temporary, It was ignorant of him but it was better than admitting things had felt off.
“I’ve been putting all the blame on you when really” you exhale, the words catching as they come out, “it’s me too.”
Then, too quickly, almost a reflex maybe without thinking, he says-
“What?” Your head snapped up.
“Cause we can go get one” He added, like it was no big deal. “If that’s what you want”
You were silent. You weren’t even sure you heard him right. Your mouth slightly agape in complete confusion.
“Oh my god no-” You cut him off before he could continue. “Are you even listening to me?”
“I’m trying to fix this” His words coming out quick. Defensive. Like he solved the case.
“No” You snapped. “You’re just trying to shut me up”
“You want commitment? I’m offering it” He spoke, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
His timing was always divinely perfect, he’d make a grand gesture every time he felt you begin to check out. It’d be just enough to convince yourself this was a sure thing, it didn’t last long though. That same hollow feeling always came back, settling heavy in your chest like it was waiting for you.
You had to admit, it was never this grand. This was different. It was shiny. Something that sounded like forever.
“You’re not serious” Wiping your cheeks with your thumb. letting out a laugh of disbelief “You’re panicking”
“I’m not panicking” He reassured. His voice low and controlled.
He began to move towards you. His hands moved to the hem of his hoodie, tugging it off in one sharp motion, like it was suddenly suffocating him. He didn’t fold it, didn’t even glance at where it landed. Just let it drop to the floor between you.
Your stomach tightened. You took a step back as instinct.
He kept coming. Not fast or aggressive, enough to let you know he wasn’t stopping.
He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of him, close enough that stepping back wasn’t an option anymore.
And then your legs hit the back of the couch. Now you really had nowhere to go. The sudden contact made your knees buckle, your hands balancing on the cushion behind you.
“Why are you backing up?” He asked. Not confused, just curious.
“Why don’t you have a shirt under your hoodie?” The question holding no relevance. A deflection. And a bad one, because he saw right through it.
Heat ran up your neck and your grip on the cushion tightened.
“It’s hot” Taking another daunting step closer to officially close the distance, the space between you disappearing.
“Why are you back up?” He asked again.
His shoulders stayed tense, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his skin. You hated that your eyes wandered down his torso, abs flexing with each breath he took. His v- line against the band of his sweatpants holding your attention longer than you meant to. He inched forward, hand catching your waist. You looked away immediately. Cursing yourself because his touch didn’t hurt the way you wanted it to.
“Because…” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your words heavy and messy on your tongue. “I’m trying to break up with you”
You stomach dropped at how calm he sounded. Like his answer could undo your decision.
“Don’t-” You couldn’t get your rebuttal out with him interrupting.
“You’re not breaking up with me” Exhaling sharply through his nose. Both hands now gripping your waist like he was anchoring you down with him.
“I don’t need your permission” You echoed, bitter now.
His body flexed like he was trying to keep himself contained in his own skin. He dropped his head, body leaning into you making your back dig into the fabric of the couch.
“You don’t want to leave me” He murmured into your ear, low and certain, like he knew you better than you knew yourself.
His hand moving to the small of your back, his fingers ghosting under your shirt. A gesture strong enough to make you shudder beneath him.
You held back a groan feeling your body react before your mind caught up. A sudden wave of nausea ran through you at how pathetic you felt. That was the word. Pathetic. Some part of you still felt wired to him in a way you couldn’t just shut off. It just meant you weren’t fully untangled from him yet, the memories of the good still etched in your mind.
You hated that. You hated that you remembered that version of him. Or was it that you believed he'd be back eventually. Still clinging onto something too far out of reach.
Before your body betrayed you, you got the courage to bring yourself to finally snap him into your reality. Your grip tightened against the couch, nails pressing into the fabric as you forced yourself to focus.
Not on him. On what this actually was. On what he was doing. How he was once again trying to gain control.
You pulled in a breath, steadying it, forcing yourself back into your own head. And then you pushed forward, just enough to create space, even if it was only inches. You unclench your fingers from the cushion and planted your palms flat against his chest to prevent him from closing in on you again.
“What exactly is it that you’re holding onto?” Your eyes locking into his.
“You jerking me around?” You pressed.
For a second, he didn’t answer. His gaze never faulted from yours. Eyes searching your face for any signs of hesitation.
“Us” He said, like it should’ve been clear.
You let out a small breath. Not quite a laugh. More of a realization that he was oblivious. Shamelessly so.
“We haven’t been us for a while” Shaking your head softly. Your hands move before you can stop them, muscle memory more than a moment of weakness. Sliding up his chest, slow, familiar, until your palm finds his cheek. Your thumb catches on the edge of his bottom lip, tracing it gently. The other drapes over his shoulder, fingers threading into the back of his neck, toying with the clasp of his chain.
What hurt was how natural it still felt. Whether he accepted defeat or was too tired to keep going. You felt him surrender to your touch, leaning his cheek further into your palm, chasing the warmth you were offering. Your touch didn’t deepen. You didn’t pull him in further. You keep him right there as a painful reminder.
“Tell me again you’re done” He said, hands firm against your hips. Not pulling you closer, more to keep you exactly where you were. Here with him.
“Because if you were really done” he added, quieter now, “you wouldn’t still be here”
You opened your mouth to start, but the words stalled somewhere in your throat. Then you recognized it again. This moment. The pattern. The look in his eyes.
You’ve felt this all before. except you were able to talk yourself out of it. To stay.
You removed your hands from his face, almost making him flinch from the sudden withdrawal. Only to place them over his that were still placed steady on your hips.
“I’m not doing this again” You continued, shaking your head once more. “Devin, I'm done”
Your chest tightens the second it’s said, like your body is trying to take it back- but you don’t let it.
He nodded his head as he let out a long breath. The realization that he couldn’t pull you back in the way he had before.
“Stay with me tonight” he said, the words coming quicker now, like he needed to get them out before you moved. Before you made this real. “Just one more night”
“It’s not gonna change anything-”
“I know” he cut in, softer this time.
You looked at him, really looked this time. Not at the way he stood. But him. He wasn’t pushing. This was the version of him that made it hard. The one that wasn’t controlled, ego fueled.
Your gaze dropped for a second, your hand curling around his wrist. You knew what would happen next, yet you didn’t hesitate.
“Okay” You said finally. “I’ll stay”
“Yeah” You repeated, not with relief but with certainty that you gave in. “One more night” More to reassure yourself than him.
He nodded as something in him eased, not fully but enough to let out a breath of relief.
“Yeah” he said quietly. “One night.”
He took your hand in his, glancing towards the hallway then back to you, like if he was checking to see if you’d really follow him. He took a step back creating distance to allow you to make your move.
You hesitated for half a second before stepping forward. That was enough of a sign for him to cash in.
“Come on” he said, though it sounded more like demand than an invitation.
He turned, and you followed behind him, fingers still laced tightly with yours. The hallway felt longer than it should’ve. Every step a quiet reminder of what neither of you were going to say. That it did mean something, no matter how hard you tried to disguise it.
You watched as his back flexed, the slight tension still there, the way he didn’t look over his shoulder to check if you were still all in. He knew you would be.
Halfway down the hall, you almost stopped. Not fully- just enough for your joined hands to pull taut. He felt it immediately. Paused. For a second, you thought he might turn around.
Instead, his grip shifted, firmer this time, and he kept walking.
By the time you reached the bedroom door, the moment had finally set in. You didn’t have time to react, he pushed the door open with his shoulder, guiding you in.
The room was dim, lit only by the light spilling in from the doorway. It felt untouched, like it had been waiting. The air too still, too quiet.
And when the door clicked shut behind you, It didn’t feel like an ending. Or a beginning. Just something in between.
You were on borrowed time and neither of you knew what it would cost yet.
baratheonpilled
discoholicmusic
prguitarman
germansingergirl
dededos
stormborns
romaincrisis
