#fluff with angst

[matthsluv]

magnets — adrian chase oneshot

synopsis: you knew this universe would be different. you just didn’t expect to hear your own voice calling adrian “babe.” now there’s two of you, two of him, and way too many feelings you’ve been ignoring.

pairings: adrian chase x f!reader (reader is implied poc. see post for more details about it) tags: friends to lovers, slow build, mutual pining, slowburn, fluff with a bit of angst warnings: mentions of injury and blood, brief references to violence, canon typical violence word count: 15, 980 ── crossposted on ao3

a/n: hello everyone, i highly suggest reading the post regarding the reader. i hope you enjoy reading and also, i made a spotify playlist for the fic. i suggest listening to it while reading :D magnets | adrian c. playlist

Instead of staying with Economos and Leota, you had decided to tag along with Adrian on his quest to find his so-called “other me.” You’d called him ridiculous, because, well, he was. But curiosity won out. What would another Adrian even be like? Smarter? Colder? Maybe less prone to talking about animal facts?

You didn’t know what you expected, but it definitely wasn’t this.

Because now you were standing in the middle of his secret room, the alternate-universe Adrian’s secret room. And the weirdest part? It was almost identical to the one you knew. Same cramped walls lined with gleaming weapons, same smell of metal and disinfectant hanging thick in the air. The only real difference was the absence of the stacks of cocaine and money shoved between shelves.

If it weren’t for that, you might’ve thought you were back home.

And then there were the two Adrians. 

They faced each other like a live-action Spider-Man meme, each pointing, tilting their heads, speaking in the same cadence, so much so that you burst into laughter because of how ridiculous this was. 

The “other Adrian” froze mid-point and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Wow,” he said, grinning, “you laugh exactly like her!”

You blinked, heat creeping into your cheeks. “Like… your me?”

“Yeah!” Other Adrian said brightly, as if this was the most normal conversation in the world. “Uncanny. It’s like you cloned her laugh and just dropped it in your throat.”

“Okay, weird phrasing,” you muttered, still smiling despite yourself.

Beside you, your Adrian was practically vibrating. “See? He gets it. You’re basically the same here too, which makes sense, because we’re basically the same, and that means we can totally trust each other.” He gestured between himself and his double like it was a done deal.

“Adrian,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can’t just trust… yourself. That easily.”

“Why not?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

“Because—” you gestured vaguely toward the other one, “you don’t know him. Just because he’s you doesn’t mean he’s actually you.”

“That makes no sense,” both Adrians said at the exact same time, which only made you laugh harder.

Your Adrian grinned and leaned closer, as if he’d just landed the winning argument. “If you trust me, you trust him. Or, well, me. And him. Us.”

Other Adrian nodded enthusiastically, pointing at him. “Exactly. Finally, someone who understands how logic works.”

You groaned. “God help me, there’s two of you.”

One Adrian, you could handle. Barely. But two? That was like standing in front of a broken fire hydrant, water blasting out in every direction, and you had no choice but to sit down and let it drench you. So you sat down on the couch and watched the chaos unfold in front of you.

They were babbling at each other like kids comparing trading cards. What the best Pokémon is, random facts about animals, bizarre facts about themselves. The conversation ping-ponged so fast it was almost dizzying.

And while they rambled, you studied them.

Up close, the similarities were almost unnerving. The posture, the restless hands, the way their voices lifted with enthusiasm even when the topic was wildly inappropriate, nearly identical. Even their Vigilante suits were the same, down to the stitching pattern. If you squinted, the only obvious difference was the glasses. Your Adrian’s frames were silver and rectangular, sharp edges catching the light. The other Adrian’s were gold and round, softer, almost old-fashioned.

Which was the problem.

Because if this Adrian really was just like yours… then maybe, despite your better judgment, he was trustworthy. But then the other Adrian casually dropped the bomb.

“I fucking hate that guy.”

The words hit you sideways, sharp enough to cut through their endless stream of chatter. You turned, brows raised. “Wait, what?”

Other Adrian’s mouth twisted, and for the first time, his expression carried something darker than gleeful energy.  “I’ve dedicated my entire life to tearing down everything he stands for.” 

You opened your mouth to press, what exactly did that mean?, but didn’t get the chance.

Your Adrian jumped in, instantly defensive, insisting Peacemaker was his best friend, his other half in the field, two peas in a pod. His voice rose with each word, equal parts pride and exasperation. Alt-Adrian, however, was unshaken. To him, Peacemaker wasn’t a friend. He was an archenemy, the entire reason he’d joined the Sons of Liberty in this world.

That gave you pause. Because if Adrian hated someone this much, there had to be a reason.

You were slowly connecting the dots. From what Chris had told you, his father and brother were alive here, and not just alive, but thriving. All three of them, working together, some kind of untouchable trio. And the name Sons of Liberty… it wasn’t exactly subtle. You just needed confirmation.

You leaned forward, pulse quickening. “Okay,” you started, voice steadier than you felt, “Elaborate. Now. ‘Cause clearly somethings wrong–”

Alt-Adrian drew in a breath, like he’d been waiting for the chance to finally explain. His mouth opened, the words forming already, something heavy enough to split the room in half—

“Babe?”

The sound sliced straight through the air, through your skin, down into your ribs. A single word, but your body recognized it instantly. The cadence was familiar, achingly so. Familiar in a way that made your stomach flip.

Your head snapped toward the doorway before you could stop yourself. For a moment, you thought maybe you’d imagined it, that the weirdness of this world was finally unraveling you but no. The voice carried again, closer this time, playful and casual, the way yours sometimes was when your guard slipped.

“Babe, you in here?”

It was your voice.

Your voice. Calling Adrian babe.

You’d expected differences here. Of course you had. You weren’t stupid. But you hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t been braced for a version of you who spoke words you couldn’t even imagine saying out loud. You’d let your guard drop because both Adrians were so alike, because their sameness made you feel almost safe. And now this felt like the floor giving way.

It wasn’t just your voice. It was your voice, laced with a kind of closeness you’d always denied yourself, something you’d only let surface in the quiet, private corners of your mind. To hear it now, out loud, was unbearable.

Your Adrian went still, so still you could almost hear the gears in his head grinding to a halt. For once, the constant hum of chatter that usually spilled from his mouth was gone. Nothing but silence, wide eyes darting from you to the doorway like he was stuck in some bizarre nightmare he couldn’t logic his way out of.

And then she stepped in.

Her.

You.

Or rather, another you.

The sight of her nearly knocked the air out of your chest. Same face, same frame, same sharp lines in the brow and curve of the mouth, but different, too. Her hair was cropped shorter, cut uneven, like she’d taken scissors to it herself without much care beyond getting it out of her way. And though the outfit she wore was almost uncanny in its similarity to what you would’ve thrown on back home, there was a weight to it here. A sharper edge. As if the clothes weren’t just clothes but armor, built for the kind of world she had to walk through.

Beside you, your Adrian hadn’t moved. His expression was open shock, every emotion flickering across his face in real time: disbelief, wonder, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. His mouth worked, opened, closed again. He looked from you to her like his brain was stuck in an infinite loop of error messages, trying and failing to reconcile what he was seeing.

“What the f—” you started, but her voice cut across yours, a perfect echo.

“What the fuck?”

Her hand was already moving before the words even finished leaving her lips. A gun appeared, drawn smooth and fast, barrel locking on you like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Your body reacted without thought. Muscle memory. Steel flashed in your grip, your own weapon raised and sight trained on her just as quick. Two of you, perfectly matched, mirrored down to the way your fingers curled tight around the trigger.

Your Adrian made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak, then tried to cover it with a nervous laugh. His hands shot up, palms out, like that would do anything against two barrels aimed so steady it felt like the air itself froze.

Alt-Adrian? He looked delighted. Absolutely beaming, like this was the single greatest thing he’d ever witnessed. He pointed proudly between the two of you, grin stretching wide.

“See!” he exclaimed. “Exactly the same!”

The other you didn’t lower her gun. Her eyes flicked from him to you, sharp and skeptical, voice cutting hard through the room.

“What the hell is going on?”

Alt-Adrian lifted his hands, palms out, as if he could soothe the tension right out of the air. His grin didn’t falter.

“Babe, it’s okay. Calm down. I mean—look at them! It’s us! You trust me, right? You trust yourself. So why not trust the other-universe us?”

You frowned. “You can’t just trust them because they’re us, Adrian.”

Your Adrian let out a sharp gasp. “Oh my God, she said the same thing! You’re right, they are the exact same!”

And before you could even process, both Adrians were practically bouncing, talking over each other, grinning like idiots.

“This is awesome—”

“—so awesome, babe, we’re literally synced—”

“Do you see this?!”

“Exact same brainwaves!”

Your pulse was still hammering, your gun still raised, and you finally snapped, in unison with her, voices overlapping so perfectly it was eerie:

“Adrian!”

Both Adrians stopped at once, blinking, then broke into twin grins like that was somehow proof they’d won the argument.

Your eyes cut to her at the same time hers cut to you. For a moment it was like staring into a warped mirror—same impatience, same irritation simmering under your skin, same quick calculation sparking behind the eyes.

Then, at once, you both spoke.

“What the hell is Sons of Liberty?” you demanded.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?” she snapped.

The words tangled in the air, clashing hard enough that you both fell silent, studying each other like you could peel back the answers from each other’s faces.

You tightened your grip on the gun still angled low by your side, not quite willing to holster it yet. “I asked first,” you said, sharper than you meant to.

Her mouth pulled into a humorless smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Cute. Doesn’t work that way here.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose. “Fine. We’re from a different universe. We’re here to get our Peacemaker.”

Her face scrunched, disbelief flickering across her features. “You’re friends with Peacemaker?”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, whatever he is in this universe, he’s not that bad in ours, okay?”

Alt Adrian frowned, visibly confused. “So he’s not a Nazi asshole?”

You blinked. “What the fuck? No! He’s just a normal asshole.”

Then you turned back to her, lowering the gun just a fraction. “Now what the hell is ‘Sons of Liberty’?”

Alt Adrian stepped forward and explained how “Sons of Liberty” was the only real resistance left in a world where the Nazis had won. His words hit hard, each one making the pit in your stomach deepen. You’d seen it on the way here, hadn’t you? Not a single person of color anywhere.

Your stomach sank as realization hit. Peacemaker’s father, who in your world was already a walking manifesto of bigotry, wasn’t just alive here. He was one of the ruling trio. The face of the regime.

It made a sick kind of sense. Your Adrian had explained how the American’s won WW2 to which Alt-Adrian replies with:

“You must live in, like, a utopia?”

You and your Adrian exchanged a look. One that said absolutely not.

“Uhm,” he started.

“Not exactly,” you finished.

And the truth hung heavy between you. Because as much as you wanted to laugh it off, say of course we’re nothing like this place, some part of you knew better. Things weren’t this bad in your world. Not yet. But it was close enough to sting. The cracks were already there: the headlines that blurred cruelty into policy, the quiet hate that no one called by name, the way it all felt just a little colder lately. Different, sure, but starting to hum the same tune.

Alt Adrian went on, voice quieter now. He told you that everything anyone had here. Their safety, their comfort, their power, it all came at the expense of everyone else. Outsiders, he called them. They’re all forced to toil away in camps their entire lives. And he just couldn’t stand by and watch it happen.

As he spoke, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. The other you had finally lowered her gun. Her posture stayed sharp, but there was something fragile in her face now. An ache is buried beneath the hardened edges. Her gaze flickered toward the floor, then away, jaw tightening like she was fighting to keep herself composed.

Your Adrian nodded solemnly. “Yeah. That’s kinda how I feel when somebody does graffiti. That’s not yours to draw on.”

You exhaled through your nose, finally lowering your gun. “Adrian,” you said tiredly. “That’s not the same at all.”

Both Adrians were sitting down, side by side, as Alt-Adrian finished explaining what the hell was going on in this universe. A beat passed before it hit you and your Adrian at the same time.

Your heads turned in sync.

“Adebayo,” you said in unison.

“Who’s that?” the other you asked.

“We came here with someone who’s… technically Black,” your Adrian said.

“Technically?” she repeated, disbelief sharpening her tone. “Like, you can’t tell?”

“No, you can fully tell. That was like one of the first things I noticed about her.”

“Shit,” Alt Adrian cut in, suddenly serious. “Then we'd better move. If they find your friend, you’ll never see her again.”

Your Adrian turned to you with that same ridiculous grin. “See? Aren’t you glad you tagged along with me?”

You shake your head, jaw tight. “We’re lucky no one saw me, Adrian.”

Before he could respond, probably with something catastrophically optimistic, the other you spoke up. 

“Wait.”

Everyone turned. Her voice had that kind of authority that shut down a room, even when it sounded exhausted. She glanced at you, then at your Adrian, then at the window where the light was already starting to dim. 

“You two go first,” she said. “We’ll wait until it’s darker. I’ll find something to cover her. Less chance someone notices.”

You nodded once, throat tight. There was something oddly grounding about hearing your own voice, harsher and more worn, say what you’d been too cautious to admit out loud.

Both Adrians were already nodding, preparing to move, when Alt Adrian suddenly stopped. 

“Wait,” Alt Adrian said, spinning on his heel. He crossed the space in two quick strides and leaned down toward her.

You froze.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead first. It was gentle, almost reverent and then to her lips. And for some reason, the sight of seeing yourself get kissed by Adrian (well, other Adrian) made your heart cave in a little.

“Really?” Alt you said, eyebrows lifting even as the corner of her mouth curved up. “In front of them?”

“What? It’s literally just us,” he replied, grinning like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then he jogged toward the door. 

“Be careful!” she called after him. 

Then it was quiet again.

You stood there, blinking, like your brain needed an extra second to process what you just saw.

Yourself. Kissing Adrian.

It felt like deja vu in the strangest way, like watching a memory that wasn’t yours but still somehow belonged to you. Because sure, it was her, not you, but the way she leaned into it, the way his hand brushed her arm like it was second nature…you could feel the ghost of his touch in your own skin.

You’d never even let yourself think about kissing him. Well, maybe you have, once. Maybe twice. Always in the quiet corners of your mind, where it didn’t have to mean anything. But seeing it now, seeing you do it. Seeing a version of yourself that didn’t hesitate, didn’t overthink, didn’t stop to count all the reasons why she shouldn’t. It made something uneasy twist in your stomach.

It was a reminder. That maybe the only thing stopping you from that version of yourself was… well, you.

You glanced over, half-expecting Adrian to say something dumb to cut through the awkward silence. But he didn’t. He was still staring toward the door where the other Adrian had gone, his face caught somewhere between confusion and something almost vulnerable. When his eyes met yours, the look only deepened, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. The other you was still in the room, watching quietly, and somehow that made it worse, the air thick with everything none of you were saying.

Alt you let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head like she’d seen this play out a hundred times before. You caught her muttering something under her breath before she turned away to rummage through one of the shelves.

Adrian shifted beside you, hesitant for once. Then, without a word, he stepped closer and leaned in, pressing a quick, almost clumsy kiss to your forehead. He then immediately left the room and followed other Adrian. It was over before your brain could even register it, leaving a ghost of warmth in its wake.

The warmth lingered longer than it should’ve, a soft pulse against your skin that you tried very, very hard not to think about. You straightened, tugging at your sleeve like that would somehow fix the weird, fluttery feeling twisting in your stomach.

“Guess you and your Adrian aren’t together yet?” came a voice from behind you.

You turned to find her watching you, arms crossed, one brow raised.

“Yet?” you repeated, choking out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s never gonna happen.”

Alt you snorted, amused, and tossed you a bandana she’d pulled from the shelf.

“Yeah,” she said, smirking. “I said that too.”

You caught it on reflex, jaw tightening. “Just because you and your Adrian are in love or whatever doesn’t mean we are.”

She shrugged, unbothered. “Sure.”

You narrowed your eyes. “We’re not.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“Good, because we’re not.”

Her lips twitched like she was holding back a laugh, and somehow that irritated you more than if she’d said anything at all. You tore your gaze away, focusing on tying the bandana around your face just a little too tightly, pretending your heartbeat wasn’t still tripping over itself from something as stupid as a forehead kiss.

She handed you a gun and a knife, metal cold against your palms. “Just in case,” she said, tone even.

You nodded, tucking the knife into your jacket and checking the gun’s safety. Then, together, you slipped out of the house. The air outside was colder, heavier somehow, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Both of you kept your heads down, faces hidden beneath the fabric, blending into the shadows as you moved.

For a few minutes, everything went smoothly. Until a door creaked open across the street.

You froze.

A man stepped out, leash in hand, whistling softly for his dog. The animal padded into view, sniffing the ground, with its tail wagging, and both of you ducked behind a rusted car, backs pressed to the metal as the footsteps drew closer.

You could hear her breathing beside you, steady, practiced. She’d done this before.

You, on the other hand, were still trying not to choke on your own heartbeat.

And maybe it was the adrenaline, or the quiet, or the weird ache that had been building in your chest since you saw her kiss her Adrian, but the question slipped out before you could stop it.

“So… how did you and Adrian even happen?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, curious and cautious all at once. You weren’t sure if you wanted the answer or just needed to fill the silence.

She turned to you, eyes squinting above the bandana. Then, softly, she laughed. “You really wanna know, right now?”

You nodded. “Well, yeah. Looks like they’re gonna take a while.” You tilted your chin toward the dog, who was currently circling for the perfect place to poop.

Her smile curved under the fabric, faint but visible in her eyes. “He saved me.”

Something in your chest tugged, a mix of warmth and bitterness. Ugh. That’s such a “you” way to fall for somebody. You’re such a cliche.

“Cliché, I know,” she murmured, gaze drifting past the car as if she could see the memory playing out there. “We met at Sons of Liberty. He was new then, still figuring out what kind of mess he’d signed up for. I thought he was annoying as hell. Too optimistic for someone in a place like that.”

You could almost picture it: him, grinning, trying to lighten the mood in some half-collapsed safehouse. It sounded too familiar.

“But…” she exhaled, shoulders sinking slightly. “With all the fucked-up shit happening out there, I realized I needed him. And he needed me.” Her voice softened. “We were trying to save one of my family members from the camps. It was supposed to be quick. Get in, get out. But I got hit. Could barely move.”

She paused. For a moment, the world went quiet except for the soft jingle of a dog collar in the distance.

“When the guards found us, they were gonna shoot. He—” she swallowed, “—he took the bullet for me. Should’ve died. But somehow, he didn’t. Crawled both of us out of there.”

You stared at her, throat tightening. “And after that?”

Her eyes flicked to you, a ghost of a smile there. “After that, I stopped pretending I didn’t love him.”

The dog barked suddenly, and both of you froze, pressed against the rusted car until the sound faded. The man tugged on the leash, muttering, and disappeared back inside, leaving only the echo of her words behind.

He saved me.

You tried to reason with yourself. Her world was brutal and survival-driven, especially to people like you. Of course people clung to each other in that kind of place. Here, love wasn’t flowers or quiet moments; it was about who stood between you and death. It made sense that she’d fall for the one who did.

You told yourself it wasn’t the same for you. You and Adrian had met during Project Butterfly. Partners by circumstance, not choice. You’d helped each other because you had to. Him saving you that one time wasn’t an act of love; it was an act of impulse. Maybe duty. Maybe just plain Adrian-being-Adrian, the kind of guy who’d throw himself in front of a bullet without thinking, without realizing the mess he’d leave you to untangle afterward.

But now, seeing this version of yourself talk about him like that. Seeing the quiet conviction in her eyes, something inside you twisted. Not jealousy exactly. More like unease. Like watching someone else live out a truth you’d buried too deep to admit.

Meanwhile, a few streets over, the Adrians were crouched low behind a half-dead hedge, the flashing red-and-blue glow from the cop car painting their faces in uneven bursts.

“Dude, we should just take them out,” your Adrian muttered, squinting through the leaves. “Two quick shots, drag the bodies behind the dumpster. Easy.”

Alt Adrian shook his head immediately. “No, dude. Let’s wait for them. I don’t need another lecture from her about how I don’t think before I act.”

Adrian blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. “No way! She tells me that, too. Like, exactly that.” He tilted his head, a smile tugging under his mask. “Guess that’s… kind of universal.”

Alt Adrian smirked, clearly amused by the symmetry. “See? Isn’t it kinda awesome? You and me, and our girlfriends. Basically the same.”

Your Adrian blinked. “Girlfriends?”

Alt-Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah? Is she not your girlfriend?”

Adrian eased back against the shrub, trying to make his voice casual.  “We’re partners. She’s just one of my best friends. Like, top tier bff. Above Peacemaker sometimes when she’s really nice to me.”

Alt-Adrian chuckled softly. “Woah… I used to say that too not the Peacemaker part, obviously. tBut hey, don’t worry, you’ll figure it out eventually.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Fuck, no, dude. Nothing to figure out. She’s my best friend. That’s it. That’s all we’ll ever be.” His voice had that sharp edge, almost defensive, like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

Alt-Adrian tilted his head. “Okay… but, like, do you feel the need to know everything about her? You know… all the little stuff? Do you feel the need to impress her, all the time?”

Adrian blinked, caught off guard, then muttered, “…Yeah. I mean… yeah.”

Alt-Adrian laughed, a low, teasing sound. “Hah. Then that means you like her.”

Adrian scoffed, waving a hand. “No! I do that with everyone I care about, okay? Doesn’t mean I love her.”

Alt-Adrian snorted. “Dude, never said anything about love. You dropped the L bomb, not me.”

Adrian paced a little behind the bush. “Look, I notice her, okay? I pay attention. I make sure she’s safe, I—damn it, I care. Doesn’t mean it’s… I don’t know… romantic. It’s just… literally part of being a best friend?”

Alt-Adrian tilted his head, smirking under his mask like he’d seen this a thousand times. “Yeah, okay. I get that. But it’s different with her, isn’t it? You don’t do this for just anyone. The way you worry, the way you… I don’t know… notice every little thing about her—it’s not just friendship stuff, man. You feel it differently.”

Adrian blinked, stiffening. “…Feel it differently how? Like, protective? I’m protective of everyone I care about.”

Alt-Adrian snorted. “Sure, maybe. But there’s a weight to it with her, isn’t there? A pull? You’ll figure it out eventually. Took me a while to figure it out with mine, trust me.”

Alt-Adrian’s smirk faltered for a moment as Alt-Reader tapped his shoulder. 

“Figure what out?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

Both Adrians’ hands shot instinctively toward their guns, tense and ready. 

“Oh,” Alt-Adrian said, lowering his weapon with a grin that you could hear even through the helmet. “Just you and… you.”

Alt-You ignored him. “What’s going on?”

Before either could answer, a voice drifted over from the road. One of the cops.

“Saw a Black woman, maybe thirties. Ran off that way. Probably an escapee.”

 The words hit you like a punch. You didn’t even have to think about who they meant. Adebayo.

Your pulse spiked. “We have to find her. Now.”

Alt-Adrian tilted his head, casual as ever. “Or we kill them first, make it easier.”

“Babe, no,” Alt-You said immediately, steady hand on his arm. “Not now. We don’t need that kind of attention.”

You blinked. “Babe? How do you even know that’s your Adrian?”

She shrugged. “You just know.”

You stared at her, but she didn’t elaborate. The silence that followed felt heavy, the kind that hummed with everything none of you wanted to admit.

The cops’ voices faded as they turned the corner, their footsteps echoing until they disappeared completely. You waited a beat longer before stepping out from cover, brushing dirt off your jeans.

Alt-Adrian glanced around once, then started walking. “Well, that was fun,” he said. “So, what else is different in your world? You know, besides Cheeri-Oh’s being spelled wrong.”

Adrian snorted, trailing beside him. “Spelled right, actually. It’s Cheerio’s, with an O.”

Alt-Adrian shook his head. “Not in my world, it’s not. But seriously, what’s different? Like—stuff about you, your life, whatever.”

Adrian hummed, thinking. “Uh, décor’s different. My living room? Three cat figurines on the shelf. Here? Six. Same cats, though, just more of them. A bit overboard, honestly. What do six cats even have to talk about?”

Alt-Adrian barked out a laugh. “Maybe they form a little cult. You know, Cat Council.”

“Oh, yeah. Discussing deep topics like ‘why is the red dot uncatchable’ and ‘how many lives do we really have left.’”

Alt-Adrian nodded sagely. “Important questions.”

“Exactly,” Adrian said, completely straight-faced.

“Exactly,” Adrian said, completely serious. “Also, my dad’s not gay here. And she’s shorter in this universe.”

Alt-Adrian blinked. “What? She’s shorter? No way, really? I didn’t even notice that—that’s so funny and weird!”

You stopped mid-step, giving him a look. “That’s the part that shocks you?”

Alt-You, curious, stepped closer. “Hold on, now I gotta see. Let’s stand next to each other.”

You rolled your eyes but did it anyway, standing shoulder to shoulder. Alt-Adrian leaned forward, squinting between the two of you.

“Dude, you’re right,” he said, grinning. “How the hell did you even notice that?”

Adrian just shrugged, pretending to play it off. “I notice everything about her.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. It wasn’t even what he said, it was how he said it. No hesitation, no irony. Just plain, matter-of-fact truth. Something warm flickered low in your chest before you pushed it down, fast.

“Let’s go, guys,” you said quickly, turning away before anyone could see the look on your face. “We do not have time for this.”

You started walking again, hearing the crunch of gravel as the others followed. Beside you, Alt-You kept sneaking glances your way until you finally sighed. 

“What?”

She grinned, all knowing mischief. “Nothing. Just... that was cute.”

You frowned. “That was not cute.”

Alt-You hummed. “Sure.”

Adrian looked between you two, suspicious. “Wait, what are you guys talking about? You already have inside jokes? How?”

You scoffed. “No, Adrian, we don’t—” You stopped mid-sentence, blinking as the realization hit. “Wait. How did I even know that you’re my Adrian?”

Alt-Reader smirked, crossing her arms. “Told you. You just know.”

Alt-Adrian perked up immediately. “Ooh, maybe it’s like a soulmate thing! Like, across every universe. Cosmic connection, neural link, fate—boom. Like, our frequencies are synced across universes, you know?” He gestured wildly, clearly getting into it. “That would explain everything.”

Adrian’s head snapped toward him. “She’s not my soulmate,” he said, a little too fast. “Matter of fact, I would say Peacemaker is my soulmate.”

Alt-Adrian laughed. “Okay, pop quiz then. I bet Peacemaker doesn’t even know what your thing is when you’re anxious.” He pointed at you, grinning. “But I bet she does.”

Adrian straightened, instantly defensive. “That’s so specific! But you know what? He totally would, because we’re best friends. Soulmates, even.”

You groaned. “Can the both of you shut up?” You looked at Alt-Reader for backup, but she just gave you a look that said, you’re on your own.

Alt-Adrian leaned forward, undeterred. “Fine, but you still have to answer first.”

You sighed, finally relenting. “He, uh… taps his ring finger against his leg. Every time.”

Adrian froze, blinking like he’d just been exposed. His hand twitched unconsciously toward his leg before he caught himself. For a second, he couldn’t even find the right words, just felt this strange, quiet jolt in his chest. You noticed that? 

Something so small, so stupidly insignificant that even he hadn’t realized he did it that often.

He laughed under his breath, a little uncertain, trying to mask the flicker of warmth that came with the embarrassment. 

“How do you even know that?” he asked, pretending it was funny but sounding almost careful.

You just shrugged. “You’re not really subtle, Adrian. Plus, you’re not the only one who notices things.”

Alt-Adrian grinned under his mask like he’d just uncovered a secret. “See! Soulmates, man. You literally know everything about each other, even the tiniest, dumbest little things. Just like me and her.” He jabbed a thumb at Alt-You, still smirking.

Adrian groaned. “Oh, come on, that was really specific, okay? If you’d asked what my favorite food is, or my Pokémon game is, I bet Peacemaker would totally know that.”

Alt-Adrian perked up immediately. “Alright then, let’s test it. What is it?” he said, looking straight at you.

You opened your mouth, then stopped. Because you did know. It was Pokémon Emerald. You’d seen him play it over and over, even letting you play sometimes while he backseated every move, giving commentary on the best strategies, the ideal Pokémon team, and which areas to grind. Every. Single. Time. And his favorite food? Kraft Mac & Cheese, the boxed kind, extra buttery, with that little sprinkle of black pepper he always adds himself. 

But there was no way you were admitting you knew that.

Alt-Adrian pouted. “Aw, c’mon, I know you know it—”

Thankfully, Alt-Reader cut in, smacking his arm. “Leave them alone, you menace.”

The Adrians finally went quiet, grumbling under their breath but no longer bickering. You let out a silent sigh and moved cautiously down the street, Alt-You matching your pace.

By the time you reached the edge of Peacemaker’s property, your stomach was tied in knots. Police cars were stationed along the perimeter, engines faintly humming, flashlights off but their presence obvious. You crouched behind the nearest row of bushes, pressing low.

A movement caught your eye, Adebayo and the Judo Master were pressed into the shadows a few feet away, crouched behind another patch of shrubbery. Relief washed over you. 

“There you are,” you whispered, slipping closer to them.

“What the fuck?” Adebayo blurts.

Adrian holds up a hand, trying to act casual. “Hey. Don’t worry. It’s me. And… other me.”

Alt-Adrian just waves, helmet glinting. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”

Adebayo blinks at you and Alt-You. “Wait. There’s another you too? This is getting really crazy.”

Adrian spots Judo Master, and he stiffens, jaw tightening. Comments on how he hates him and how little he is. You feel that familiar irritation radiating off him.

“Adrian. Chill. We have bigger things to deal with right now,” you murmur, low.

Alt-Adrian squinted and pointed at the Judo Master’s chest. “What’s that symbol mean anyway? Looks like… someone splashed cum on you.”

The Judo Master raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Why would you want to splash cum on me?”

Alt-Adrian’s head snapped toward Alt-You. “Fuck! What? I don’t! Babe, tell him I don’t wanna splash cum on him!”

“And if he did, it’d probably just be as a joke.” Your Adrian adds.

Adebayo’s eyes went wide, pointing at you and Adrian. “Wait… babe? Are you guys dating in this universe?”

“I know. Unbelievable, right?” you mutter, ducking a little behind the bush.

“Well… ‘ Adebayo looks at Alt-Adrian and Alt-You. “Out of all the things that are wrong with this universe… that actually makes sense.”

Adrian's hand twitched almost unconsciously, tapping his finger against his thigh. Once. Twice. He caught himself before the third, freezing mid-motion as if suddenly aware of how exposed he looked, even under the mask. He did the thing. The exact little thing you’d apparently noticed countless times before. He shifted slightly, uneasy under the scrutiny of the group, and pressed a mental reset button. Focus. Eyes on the mission. The bizarre, chaotic reality around him made room for no indulgence. He couldn’t afford to dwell on how Adebayo’s comment had brushed against the raw edges of something he’d been pretending didn’t exist. 

You felt a rush of heat, almost embarrassment. All the comments from other you and other Adrian, and now Adebayo? They’re all slowly starting to make sense, but you couldn’t indulge in these thoughts, not now. There were bigger things on the line. Survival, strategy, and keeping everyone safe. You had to keep moving.

Alt-You noticed the shift immediately and gave you a sharp nudge, changing the subject and steering both of you away from the tense intimacy. Behind the bush, the distant sirens and the rustle of leaves reminded you that the real danger hadn’t gone anywhere.

The Adrians and Judo Master, true to form, began muttering again about “handling” the cops. While you, Alt-You, and Adebayo exchanged exasperated glances. Sneaking inside, careful and precise, won out over any rash ideas.

The glass shattered before anyone could blink. Adrian didn’t hesitate. He smashed through the window with brutal efficiency and the world went sideways. Chris’s father went down under the flash of Adrian’s knife, blood hitting the floor with a wet, metallic sound that made your stomach lurch. Chaos erupted.

Cops poured in immediately, shouting and firing, but the Adrians moved like extensions of the same mind. Each shot, each movement, mirrored, complementary and your own eyes couldn’t process it fast enough. Alt-Adrian jabbed, twisted, shot, ducked, all in one fluid motion, and your breath caught at how terrifyingly perfect their coordination was.

You and Alt-You had to match them, had to fight, had to keep moving. Every dodge, every sweep, every counter felt orchestrated, as if you four had danced this deadly ballet a thousand times in some other life. Horrifying. Beautiful. Absolutely horrifying.

You barely had time to think. Adrian went down suddenly, a shot ripped into him as he threw himself in front of you. Two times now, he had saved you, and even amid the chaos, you couldn’t help but wonder if this it was instinct or something more. Your heart slammed against your ribs as you yelled his name, and thankfully, Adebayo was there to drag him toward the trophy room.

Alt-Adrian didn’t miss a beat, spinning and firing at the guy who’d taken the shot, cold, precise, eyes darting back and forth.

“Good one, babe,” Alt-Reader called, grabbing your arm and rushing you toward the trophy room while Alt-Adrian followed, screaming, “Sons of Liberty forever!”

From there, the group moved as one. Every strike, block, and counter fell into place with terrifying efficiency. They overwhelmed Keith, and Chris stepped in just in time to stop the carnage, but the exact details of that were a blur, adrenaline and fear colliding into one endless, violent pulse.

Before leaving, the Adrians hugged. Alt-You gave you a nod, a small smile, and the moment ended as quickly as it started.

Adrian waited by the dimensional portal, muscles tense, looking at you. You didn’t step forward waiting for Harcourt. She had asked for Alt-Adrian for a gun to shoot Keith, but before she could do the cops swarmed the room. The second the cops rushed in, Alt-Adrian and Alt-You didn’t hesitate. Shots rang out like thunder. Adrian grabbed you forcefully, yanking you inside the door, then, without pause, pulled Emilia up and into cover.

Alt-Adrian glanced once, executed a perfect flip, and closed the portal door behind them.  And just like that, you knew you’d never see them again…for a while at least.

Chris had decided to turn himself in, and Adrian was… well, he was bummed out, to say the least. Against your better judgment, you’d decided to stay with him, keep him company. You shoved whatever complicated feelings tangled up in your chest aside, deciding to be a friend first. That’s how you ended up in the kitchen, spooning cocoa into mugs, chatting quietly with his sweet mom.

“Oh, he likes that extra—” Ms. Chase started, nodding toward Adrian’s mug.

You quickly cut her off, scooping four generous spoons of sugar into his cup. “Extra sweet, I know. He’s got a real sweet tooth,” you said cheerfully, forcing the casual tone. Internally, though, your brain tripped over itself. ‘Cause, great—another specific fact you unfortunately know about him. 

Ms. Chase smiled knowingly, sipping her own cocoa. “You know, I don’t even know why he dated that Hardcore girl in the first place. When someone like you is here for him…”

You froze for a split second before laughing softly, shaking your head.  “Oh, Ms. Chase. Hartcourt’s actually nice, don’t listen to him. And also… we’re just really good friends.” You gave her a small smile, trying to keep the line casual, but you couldn’t ignore how much she knew about both of you.

She leaned in conspiratorially, eyes sparkling. “Oh, I know. But he talks about you all the time. Says you always like quizzing him on random animal facts and he absolutely loves it. And he told me, you always laugh at his jokes.And that time you tried to play D&D with him? He couldn’t stop talking about it.”

At that moment, Adrian shuffled into the kitchen. He rubbed his temples like he could erase the conversation by sheer force of will.

“Here,” you said softly, handing him the steaming mug.

“What—fuck, Mom! Shut the fuck up!” he groaned, flopping into a chair, face hidden behind his hands.

“Ah, and he told me,” Ms. Chase continued, leaning a little closer, “that you bite the insides of your cheeks when you’re nervous—oh dear…” she paused, eyes widening as she noticed, “…you’re doing it right now. Am I making you nervous, sweetie? I’m sorry, I’m just—”

You froze mid-bite, quickly pulling your cheeks away from your teeth, cheeks heating up as you forced yourself to stop.

“Mom, seriously! Shut the fuck up,” Adrian interrupted, voice sharp. He grabbed your arm before you could protest and tugged you toward his secret room. “We’re gonna go play Princess Peach in my secret room. Don’t come in!”

You looked at him, caught somewhere between confusion, embarrassment, and the faintest spark of amusement, as he disappeared with you into the secret space.

Inside the secret room, the door clicked shut behind you, muffling the faint sounds of Ms. Chase humming in the kitchen.

“You know,” you said, crossing your arms, “you should be nicer to your mom, Adrian.”

He groaned, slumping into the chair. “No. Fuck her.”

You shot him a look. “She’s letting you live in her house. You’ve got a dead-end job, you almost got arrested, and she’s still, somehow, super nice to you. Be kinder to her, dude.”

Adrian threw his hands up, rolling his eyes. “Well, I don’t want her to live alone, okay? She’s got no one else but me!”

You stared at him, unimpressed. “That’s all you got from that? Be nicer to her, Adrian. Not everyone has the luxury of having a mom as kind as yours.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but something in your tone shut him up. After a beat, he sighed and mumbled, “Fine,” before grabbing his Switch from the shelf and tossing it to you.

You caught it easily, thumbing the joystick as the console booted up. But before you could select a game, you hesitated.

“Do you think they survived that?” you asked quietly.

“Who?”

“Us. Alternate universe us.”

He tilted his head, like he hadn’t really thought about it until now, then nodded confidently. “Totally. Did you not see the flip my other me did? They totally survived that. Plus, other you’s as strong and smart as you are, so…” He gave a small shrug, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I trust them. I trust us.”

You handed the switch back to Adrian. “Go on, you play. I’ll… watch,” you muttered, curling up on the edge of the couch.

He focused instantly on the screen, thumbs moving deftly, and you found yourself quietly observing him. The way he got absorbed, the little hum of concentration, the way his brow furrowed every time something didn’t go his way. It was almost comforting.

Part of you, the part that normally spun a thousand different scenarios in your head, just wanted to shut the voices off. The “what ifs,” the comparisons, the intrusive “what does he think?”, all of it. Right now, you didn’t want to think. You just wanted this quiet, this mundane moment with him, no alternate universe chaos, no “cosmic soulmates”, just Adrian being Adrian.

You considered asking him what he thought about… well, about the alternate versions of you two, specifically about then dating. But watching him completely absorbed, you realized that he wasn’t thinking about it. Not at all. And why should you? Maybe you’d just settle for this. Whatever this was.

Then, out of nowhere, his eyes flicked up at you. 

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

He leaned back slightly, studying you. “Look… I’m not good at, like… telling how someone feels. But you’re pretty obvious when you’re overthinking.”

You raised your eyebrows.

His gaze sharpened. “Your eyebrows get, like… super scrunched up. And you’ve got that frown. Come on, you’re practically radiating it.”

You blinked at him, voice small and uncertain. “…Why did you… you know, kiss me on the forehead back there? In the other universe?”

Adrian scratched the back of his neck, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to explain or run. “Uh… I don’t know, okay? I just… felt like I had to at that moment. I mean, other me did it, so… I dunno, I did it too. Doesn’t mean—” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t mean anything weird. I promise.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Right…well, the other us are dating. Does that mean we should too?”

“No! Absolutely not! I mean… come on, we’re not them, okay? Don’t—you’re overthinking this. I mean… the fact that our other selves are even dating is crazy, right?” 

“Right.” You said, as your voice tight as you stood up. I get it. You don’t want to date me, Chase.”

Adrian’s head snapped toward you. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I have somewhere to go,” you said, slamming the door behind you.

Alone, you feel the sting of Adrian’s rejection like a sharp snap in your chest. Embarrassment and hurt twist together, prickling under your skin. You don’t even know what answer you were hoping for, only that it definitely wasn’t that. The words hang there, heavy and impossible to ignore, and you’re left wondering if maybe this is just a universe where you two will never be.

Before you can even reach the door, Adrian’s mom’s eyes flick to you, noticing the tight set of your shoulders and the way your hands tremble slightly.

“Hey, sweetie… you okay?” she asks softly, stepping closer.

You force a small smile, shaking your head just enough to seem casual. “I’m fine, really.”

She doesn’t push further, just gives a warm, knowing smile. “Alright… just know, you’re always welcome here, okay? Don’t let anyone or anything make you feel otherwise.”

Her words linger, a quiet comfort as you steel yourself and head toward the door.

The next morning, your phone is blowing up. Calls, texts, notifications stacking one after another. Most of them are from Adrian, each one more insistent than the last. You ignore them all, leaving the screen to light up in silence on the nightstand.

Then a call comes through from Adebayo. You swipe to answer, trying to sound casual.

“Hey,” you say.

“You okay?” Adebayo’s voice is calm, but there’s an edge of concern. “We’re heading to visit Chris today, and… uh, Adrian’s been complaining to me. Says you’re not picking up his calls.”

You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. Really. Just… busy.”

“Okay… well, I assume since you’re obviously avoiding Adrian, you’re gonna want to ride with me?” Adebayo’s voice is half-teasing, half-serious.

You sigh, exhaling slowly. “Yeah… fine. I’ll ride with you.”

“Alright,” she says. “I’ll pick you up in thirty.”

You hang up, staring at your phone for a moment, feeling the weight of Adrian’s missed calls and your own stubbornness settling in your chest.

Adebayo pulls up in front of your house, the engine idling quietly. You slide into the passenger seat, and for a moment, the car is swallowed in silence.

“…So,” Adebayo starts cautiously, eyes on the road, “…you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

You shake your head, trying to keep your voice light. “Nothing’s going on, Ads. I’m fine.”

She hums, unconvinced. “Uh-huh… so, totally nothing to do with your alternate universe selves dating in their universe, and you and Adrian not dating in ours?”

That’s it. Something snaps inside you, heat rushing up your neck. “I said I’m fine!” you burst out, voice shaking, eyes stinging. “Just—just drop it!”

You lean back against the seat, trying to catch your breath, but the frustration and hurt are still raw. Adebayo glances at you, silently giving you a moment, her hands steady on the wheel, letting you crash out without saying a word.

You sink lower into the seat, cheeks burning as the heat of your outburst fades. “I… I’m sorry, Ads,” you mutter, voice quieter now, remorse creeping in. “I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just… everything’s been so messed up, and seeing them… seeing us… it—it threw me off.”

Adebayo glances at you, and you continue. “Do you even know how weird it is? To see yourself, literally yourself, kiss someone?” Her eyes flick toward you, sharp. “Worse… kiss someone you’ve been denying your feelings for?”

Adebayo keeps her eyes on the road, one hand steady on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against the center console. “Yeah… that would fuck me up too.”

“And I just don’t get it,” you confess, voice almost cracking. “I mean… me and Adrian in their universe? We’re literally the same! But they… they talk about each other so—so differently. With so much love, so much care. And in this universe… I get rejected by Adrian?”

She sighs. “I know you’re hurt and I get it. But you know Adrian! He can be a bit… stupid sometimes. He just needs time to figure out how he feels.”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “Look, I get it. Alt me and Alt-Adrian… they have very different circumstances. But it’s not just that. It’s like… I see what they have, and I know what we have or what we could have and it feels like the universe is teasing me. Like, I get a glimpse of something real and… and it just quite literally slams the door in my face here.”

Adebayo’s grip on the wheel tightens just slightly, though her voice stays calm. “Look, I promise you. He’ll figure it out. And if he doesn’t? That’s his loss. You don’t need Adrian to be whole, okay? You’ve got yourself. You’ve got brains, guts, and more heart than half the people in this city combined.”

You glance at her briefly, the words hitting harder than you expect. She keeps her eyes on the road, steady and unwavering, but her voice softens just a touch. “Don’t let some messed-up version of him, or any version, make you feel like you’re missing something. You’re more than enough on your own. And trust me… the right people, the ones who really see you? They’ll get it. They’ll see it.”

You swallow, nodding slowly, trying to absorb it. The car hums around you, the steady rhythm of the tires against the asphalt grounding you in the present. Somehow, Adebayo’s words manage to cut through the chaos in your head, offering a quiet reassurance that maybe, just maybe, you can survive this heartbreak and still come out the other side intact.

The car pulls up outside the prison, the building looming gray and unwelcoming against the morning sky. Chris, unsurprisingly, refuses to see anyone. 

Adrian’s complaints echo across the parking lot, loud enough to make a few passersby glance over. You step up beside him, hand lightly on his arm. “Adrian, calm down. Let’s just go.”

He grumbles but lets you steer him toward the car. Outside, the cool morning air does little to soothe the tension. Adebayo leans back, eyes on you. “You riding with him?”

Adrian exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he climbs into the driver’s seat. 

“Yes,” he says, his voice low but firm, “she’s riding with me.”

You give Adrian a pointed look, but get in the car anyways. The car falls into an uneasy silence, the kind that presses against your ribs. Neither of you speak for a moment, the tension thick between the occasional click of the turn signal and the soft rumble of the tires on asphalt.

Adrian shifts in the driver’s seat, clearly trying to distract himself or maybe you with some random knowledge. “Uh… so, did you know manta rays… like, they actually sleep upside down sometimes? And they can, get this: store water in their fins to breathe later when they’re out of the ocean. So cool right?”

You keep your gaze fixed out the window, silent, not even a twitch of acknowledgment. Which you are aware is very petty but right now, you don’t care.

He glances at you, then back at the road, shifting in his seat. “Okay… cool. No fun facts today. Got it.”

A few more miles pass in tense quiet before he exhales, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Look,” he starts, voice softer now, “I’m sorry, alright? I’m gonna be honest, I’m still not exactly sure why you’re upset, but I know you are. And I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

He glances at you again, hesitant, almost boyish in the way he waits for some sign you’ll respond.

“Okay,” you say at last.

He glances at you, hopeful, a little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Does that mean… you forgive me?”

You shake your head lightly, letting a small smile slip through. “No, that’s why I just said ‘okay, Adrian.’ I acknowledge what you said, though.”

His grin grows, a mix of relief and excitement. “Okay… but do you acknowledge it enough to convince you to come to my place and watch stupid ’80s horror movies with me?”

You cross your arms, giving him a look. “What do I get out of it?”

“Uh… the joy of my company?” he tries, wincing the second he says it. “No, wait—okay, that sounded arrogant. You get… snacks! I’ll get all your favorites. Popcorn, Twizzlers, those weird chips you like that taste like feet—”

“They do not taste like feet,” you protest, laughing.

“They totally do, but that’s okay, I’ll still buy them,” he says quickly, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Because I care. Deeply. About your weird snack choices. And also about you not being mad at me anymore.”

You try to hold back your smile, but fail. “You’re really laying it on thick.”

Adrian throws one hand off the wheel dramatically, eyes wide in mock desperation. “Look, Peacemaker’s gone, and I don’t want my other best friend to be mad at me, okay?”

You snort. “Other best friend?”

Adrian gasped like you’d just insulted his honor. “Yeah, other best friend. Don’t get jealous, okay? There’s room in my emotional support system for both of you.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Wow. I’m so honored to be your othr best friend.”

“So…movie?” 

You sighed, pretending to think it over before finally giving in. “Fine.”

Adrian’s grin split wide, triumphant. “Hell yeah. You’re not gonna regret it, unless you hate decapitations and bad practical effects.”

You step inside Adrian’s house, greeted by the warm, familiar scent of baked goods and something vaguely cinnamon-y.

“Hi, Mrs. Chase,” you say, smiling politely.

“Hi, sweetheart! So glad you’re back. I told Adrian off yesterday, you know? You can’t let a woman you care about just leave upset—”

“Mom!”

Adrian opens his mouth again, clearly about to say something rude. You glance at him, expecting the worst, but he exhales, shaking his head. 

“We’re gonna watch a movie in my room, Mom. Don’t come in, without knocking.” 

Mrs. Chase tilts her head, a knowing look crossing her face, while you shake your head at the insinuation. Adrian just shrugs, clearly unbothered, and leads you toward his room.

Adrian’s room is a weird, cozy blend of chaos and nostalgia. The walls are plastered with posters, classic rock bands from the ‘70s and ‘80s rubbing shoulders. A cluttered bookshelf, that’s crammed with game cartridges, comic books and well-used nitebooks.

Adrian’s bed is unmade, sheets a deep teal color rumpled across the mattress as if he’d left in a hurry or just didn’t care enough to fix them. His shelves are crowded with Pokémon figures, some dusty and some clearly handled daily. 

On his desk, an old handheld console rests next to a random doodle, and a small Polaroid of the two of you together is taped to the wall above, slightly crooked. You pause for a moment, caught off guard by it. Something about seeing the two of you captured like that makes your chest tighten.

Adrian catches your gaze lingering on the Polaroid and quickly snatches it down, tucking it awkwardly into his pocket.

 “Hey, don’t just stare at that,” he mutters, a little defensive.

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to smile. “Relax, man. I have my copy on the back of my phone case.”

He freezes for a beat at your words, a flicker of something soft passing through his eyes, but he quickly shakes it off, pretending it doesn’t affect him.

You both settle onto his unmade teal bed, the handheld console abandoned on the desk as the opening credits of a cheesy ’80s horror movie roll. The music is overdramatic, the acting hilariously bad, and you can’t help laughing at some of the more ridiculous scenes. Adrian throws a popcorn kernel at you, smirking when you dodge, and for a moment the tension of the past few days melts away.

As you laugh, you catch yourself thinking that maybe it’s okay that this is all you’ll ever be with him—his friend, his confidant, someone he trusts enough to share silly, unguarded moments with. And yet, there’s a quiet ache underneath that realization, a small part of you wishing it could be more. But for now, the warmth of his presence, the ridiculous movie, and the simple comfort of being here feels enough. You let yourself sink into the moment, allowing yourself to just be with him without expecting anything else. 

The movie continues, laughably bad and over-the-top, and at some point, Adrian reaches over and nudges a stray popcorn kernel toward you. You catch it between your fingers, laughing quietly, and he cheers at your small victory. 

Adrian shifts slightly on the bed, catching the subtle weight of your head leaning closer to him. You’ve fallen asleep. For a moment, just a heartbeat—he feels it. The pull that Alt-Adrian had talked about. It’s there, quiet but undeniable, in the warmth of your shoulder against his, in the sound of your laughter mingling with his when the movie hits another absurd moment. It’s something deep, magnetic, and way too real.

He exhales slowly, forcing a small smile as he stares at the screen. It’s not that, he tells himself. It’s just… comfort. Familiarity. A friend thing. He shifts a little, careful not to wake you, and keeps the thought boxed up tight. Because, sure, maybe his chest feels a little lighter when you’re close, and maybe your head fits perfectly against his shoulder, but that doesn’t have to mean anything.

You let out a soft sigh in your sleep, your warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his sleeve, and Adrian swallows down the lump in his throat. He tells himself it’s fine, normal even to care about someone this much. It’s what friends do. Best friends, even.

The movie flickers across the wall, all bad effects and cheesy lines, but he barely sees it. He just sits there, steady and still, pretending that the quiet thrum in his chest is nothing more than comfort. Platonic. Harmless.

And if, for a second, he lets his head rest lightly against yours, well no one has to know.

The living room at Hartcourt’s place felt quieter than usual once she left, her heels clicking down the hallway a moment ago and the door shutting softly behind her. You, Adebayo, and Economos remained, the tension of Chris going missing still hanging thickly in the air.

Adrian leaned back against the couch, fingers tapping his knee. “If I were Chris… where would I go?”

Adebayo crossed her arms, frowning. “He’s probably holed up in some cheap motel, avoiding everyone.”

You let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Look, guys… we’ll find him. He’ll turn up eventually. He always does.”

Economos cleared his throat, eyes darting between you and Adrian. “Uh… I heard from Ads that apparently, in the other universe, you and Adrian are… uh… fucking. That true?”

You choked on your chips, sputtering, eyes wide as panic flared. Adrian’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide and flailing. “Does… does anyone know how to do the Heimlich?!”

Adebayo’s eyebrows shot up, half shocked, half trying not to laugh, while Economos immediately jumped to his feet, hands hovering awkwardly. “Uh—no? Are you—are you okay?!”

You waved your hands weakly, still coughing and sputtering. “I—I’m fine! Just… what the hell did you just say?!”

Economos scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. “I… I don’t know, that’s what Ads said. I was just… confirming.”

Adrian’s face flushed, his hands gesturing wildly. “First of all, Economos, the other me and the other her aren’t just… you know, fucking! They’re in love, okay? In love! And it’s—look, it’s complicated, but also not, because it’s… love! And they’re perfect for each other, and it’s—ugh! You don’t get it!”

John held up his hands, trying to keep pace. “Geez, okay, fine. In love, whatever. But… is it true you saw yourselves kiss? Like… yourselves?”

You were a bit nervous to hear what Adrian thought about the kiss. Although, with his rejection of you a few days ago you expected him saying that it was weird or gross, however to your surprise, Adrian’s reaction wasn’t defensive about the thought of you and him dating. Instead, he leaned back, crossing his arms, and said firmly, “Yes, we did, Economos. And it wasn’t weird at all. In fact, it was… it was natural, and it made sense. Like… like everything was just right in that moment. Like they belonged to each other. And honestly? I think… I think if anyone else saw it without understanding, they’d just… misunderstand the whole thing. In fact… it felt so right that I kissed her too!”

“Wait… he kissed the other you?” Adebayo asked, eyes wide, glancing at you.

“No, fuck—” Adrian pointed directly at you, “I kissed her.”

“What?!” Economos and Adebayo shouted in unison, practically bouncing in shock.

You threw up your hands, trying to keep the situation under control. “Everyone calm down! He kissed my forehead because Alt-Adrian kissed Alt-Me’s forehead first. That’s it!”

“Ohh,” came the chorus of realization from Adebayo and Economos, the tension finally easing as they processed the explanation.

You wanted to dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. This whole situation was embarrassing, but at least Adrian didn’t think that the mere thought of being with you was crazy anymore. You could already feel the teasing that Adebayo and Economos were about to launch, and thankfully, a phone call saved you from being the center of it.

Poor Adrian, though. He looked like he wanted to argue, protest, or maybe just curl into a ball of frustration.

You answered quickly, a client of yours calling you for some task that couldn’t wait.

 “I’ve gotta go,” you said, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

“Oh… can I come?” Adrian asked, a hopeful tilt to his voice.

You shook your head, regretful but firm. “Sorry, Adrian. Not on this one.”

With that, you left, the teasing, laughter, and Adrian’s slightly pained expression fading behind you as you stepped out.

Now it was just Adrian, Adebayo, and Economos.

Adebayo leaned forward, gaze steady. “So… how do you really feel about this whole “my other universe self is dating my other universe friend thing?”

Adrian shrugged, trying to play it nonchalant. “I told you, I’m normal about it. I don’t think it’s weird at all. I mean… yeah, it’s different, but so what? Doesn’t make it bad.”

Economos tilted his head, smirking faintly. “It’s okay if it feels weird. Doesn’t have to be ‘weird bad,’ you know? There’s… weird good too.”

Adrian blinked at him, incredulous. “What the fuck is ‘weird good’?”

Adebayo leaned back, letting the words hang in the air. “Well, you said it yourself, man. It felt right. Whatever that meant. Alt-you and Alt-her are obviously meant to be together.”

Adrian shifted, defensive, arms crossing over his chest. “Okay, but just because they’re meant to be together doesn’t mean that me and her are.”

Adebayo sighed, shaking her head. “Dude, the other you and you are literally the same. Same goes for her. And you literally kissed her on the forehead because it felt right. Does that not mean anything to you? Think about why it even felt right in the first place.”

Adrian’s mind went quiet for a moment, and for an instant, he could still feel the warmth of your skin beneath his lips. He replayed that moment over and over. The brush of his lips against your skin, the way it had felt completely unnecessary, yet completely inevitable. He hadn’t had to kiss you, didn’t owe himself or anyone else that gesture, and yet, for some reason, he had wanted to. And that thought, stubborn and undeniable, refused to leave him.

Then it clicked, slowly, like a puzzle piece sliding into place. He had always wanted to do that, always in little ways, in the way he tried to impress you with random animal facts, in the quiet moments where he lingered just a second too long when you laughed at his dumb jokes. His feelings had started to change somewhere in between the lines of friendship and banter, growing into something he could not ignore.

Now, thinking back, he understood the pull Alt-Adrian had mentioned, the invisible tug toward you, the one he had shrugged off as platonic instinct or familiarity. It was not just instinct anymore. It was him, truly wanting you close, wanting to protect you, wanting more than he had ever admitted, even to himself.

Adrian ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I… I think I might’ve ruined my chances with her.”

Economos raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Adebayo leaned back, arms crossed. “He basically rejected her. Said the idea of you two even being together at all was ridiculous.”

Economos burst out laughing. “Oh yeah, man, you’re screwed.”

Adrian’s eyes widened, panic creeping in. “No, no, wait, I didn’t mean it like that! I—okay, so I said some things, and maybe I was trying to be… I don’t know, casual? Normal? But I didn’t… I just… shit, I don’t even know what to do now! Do I text her? Do I apologize? I mean, I did but I apologized and I didn’t even know what I was even apologizing for—fuck!”

Economos was still chuckling. “Wait… you apologized and you don’t even know what you did? And she accepted it?”

Adrian shot him a glare, flustered. “Fuck off, man! This isn’t fucking funny. What the fuck do I do?”

Adebayo held up a hand. “Chill, man. Like Economos said, she literally accepted your half-assed apology. What does that tell you?”

Adrian blinked, utterly clueless. “Well… she didn’t really accept it. She… acknowledged it, or whatever that means.”

Adebayo let out a long sigh. “She likes you too, Adrian.”

Adrian froze. “What?”

Adebayo shook her head, leaning back. “Look, even though your apology was, like… half-assed, and you didn’t even know what the hell you were apologizing for at the time, she still accepted it or well acknowledged it. That tells you everything, Adrian. She likes you so much that even if your apology was sloppy and clueless, she doesn’t care. She just wants to be with you and make amends, because that’s how much she values you.”

Adrian’s jaw dropped, and his mind went blank for a moment, trying to process that someone could care about him that much, even when he barely got his own act together.

Adrian didn’t even respond verbally. His fingers flew over his phone, spamming text messages and calls to you one after another. 

Adebayo groaned, reaching over to grab his arm. “Chill, man! She’s probably working. She won’t answer till later, so take a breath before you blow up her phone completely.”

Adrian’s voice sped up, tense and chaotic, words tumbling over each other. “But what if she already found someone new, right? And they’re like, cuddled on herbcouch, or worse, her bed, and he’s got his hands everywhere, whispering stupid shit in her ear, and she’s laughing, maybe slapping him, maybe biting her lip, and I’m just sitting here like a total idiot because I didn’t say anything, and now they’re probably kissing and ugh, I can’t even think straight!”

Adebayo threw her hands up. “What the fuck, Adrian? In the span of an hour? I seriously doubt that. Calm down.”

Economos chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, man. I don’t think she’s going to just throw herself at some random guy. Chill out.”

Adrian sat there, fingers hovering over his phone, staring at your name on the screen. The device stayed silent, no replies, and no calls. Just the glaring emptiness of your nonresponse. No matter how much they told him to chill, the gnawing panic lingered, leaving him tense and restless as the room settled into uneasy quiet.

You finally drag yourself up the walk to your apartment complex, every step heavy with exhaustion. That’s when your eyes catch the familiar shape of a Sebring parked just outside the gate, the faint glow of a dashboard light illuminating a dozing figure inside. You knock lightly on the window, and Adrian jolts awake, blinking like he’s been caught in the middle of a nap and a stakeout.

When he sees you, his face immediately lights up into a grin, unguarded and wide. 

“Hey,” he says, voice thick with sleep and some kind of relief, maybe happiness.

You raise an eyebrow, tired and incredulous. “Adrian… what are you doing here? It’s like… two in the morning.”

“Well,” Adrian said, sitting up straighter in the driver’s seat, “I’ve been calling you all day and no response from you! Which is really rude, by the way. How hard is it to pick up a phone?”

You let out a long, tired sigh and held up your phone or what was left of it. The screen was completely spiderwebbed, the corner chipped. “Yeah, about that… I dropped it. On concrete. It died instantly.”

Adrian blinked at it, then at you. “Oh. So you weren’t ghosting me, you were just technologically dead.”

“Pretty much,” you said, too tired to even laugh.

He nodded, expression shifting from scolding to awkward guilt in two seconds flat. “Okay, well… now I feel like a huge asshole. I’ve been sitting here for, like, hours thinking you hated me and were off living your best life without me. Meanwhile, your phone’s out here in a coma.”

“I don’t know about ‘best life,’” you murmured, then lifted the hem of your shirt slightly, revealing a makeshift bandage around your side. It was tight, uneven, and stained through with a bit of red. 

The fabric was clearly torn from a man’s shirt. It was gray and rough at the edges where it had been ripped. You’d done it fast, right after the fight, with nothing else around to use. The guy who stabbed you didn’t make it out of it, and when he went down, you’d ripped the shirt straight off him to stop the bleeding. You could've used your shirt, but well you were wearing one of your fancy shirts and you weren't about to ruin it.

Adrian’s grin vanished instantly. His eyes widened, his whole body jerking forward in alarm. “What the—what the hell happened?! You’re bleeding! Why didn’t you lead with that instead of the phone thing?!”

You waved him off weakly. “It’s fine, Adrian. Just a scratch.”

“A scratch?!” he nearly shouted, scrambling out of the car so fast he almost tripped over the door. “You’ve been stabbed! That’s not a scratch, that’s— that’s like the opposite of a scratch! That’s a penetration wound!”

You gave him a look. “Thank you for the medical terminology.”

Adrian didn’t even bother arguing anymore, he just grabbed your hand and started leading you toward the apartment building, muttering under his breath the whole way. “Unbelievable. You’re out here getting stabbed. You could’ve been bleeding out in some alley while I’m sitting in my car watching vidoes about spiders.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you along, his grip firm but careful. “Adrian, seriously, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what someone with internal bleeding would say,” he shot back, glancing down at your side like he expected you to suddenly collapse.

You sighed, fumbling with your keys when you reached your door. “You’re being dramatic.”

Adrian scoffed. “Dramatic? No. I’m being proactive. There’s a difference between ‘oh no, she’s fine’ and ‘holy shit, she’s dead,’ and I’m trying to keep you in category one.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you shoved the key into the lock and turned it. “You’re unbelievable.”

The door opened, and before you could even kick off your shoes, Adrian gently but firmly guided you to the couch.

 “Sit,” he ordered, tone serious in a way that was almost comical coming from him.

You sank into the cushions with a tired huff. “You know, you’re bossy for someone who doesn’t know the first thing about first aid.”

Adrian gave you a look, eyebrows furrowing. “What makes you think I don’t know how to do first aid?”

You shot him a tired but amused glance. “Maybe because you’re always making me patch you up.”

He hesitated for a beat, then grinned, tilting his head. “Yeah, well… maybe I just like being patched up by you.”

You froze for half a second, the words hanging in the air longer than they should’ve. Something warm and dangerous stirred in your chest, but before you could even process it, Adrian quickly backtracked.

“I mean—” he rushed, waving his hands a little, “—’cause, you know, it’s easier than patching yourself up. Way less chance of, uh, bleeding out or accidentally stapling your own skin or whatever.”

You just shaked your head and sighed. You pointed toward the cabinet near the kitchen. “First aid kit’s in there.”

Adrian moved fast toward the cabinet. He came back with the kit and knelt beside you, his usual grin replaced with a rare, quiet focus. His hands were surprisingly steady as he started cleaning the wound, brows furrowed in concentration.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of gauze being unwrapped and the occasional wince you tried to hide.

You exhaled shakily. “Okay… this hurts way more than I thought it would.”

He glanced up immediately, worry flashing across his face. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head. “No. Just… distract me, Adrian.”

He blinked, thinking for a moment, then his face lit up like a kid about to tell a bad joke. “You wanna quiz me on manta rays?”

You gave him a tired but amused look. “Sure, why not.”

He grinned and handed you his phone, and you did a quick google search of manta ray facts.

You started scrolling through manta ray facts, reading the first one aloud. “Okay… what’s the largest species of manta ray?”

“Uh… the Atlantic one?”

“Wrong,” you said flatly.

He frowned. “Okay, but like, technically, that was a good guess.”

You smirked. “Next one. How many gill slits do manta rays have?”

He tilted his head and slowly said, “five?”

You paused. “Okay… that’s actually right.”

Adrian grinned proudly, puffing out his chest a little. “Yes! See? I’m a manta expert.”

You rolled your eyes, scrolling for another one. “Okay, expert. Next question. What do manta rays eat?”

He hesitated, his confidence faltering. “Uh… fish? Big ones? Like… tuna?”

You gave him a look. “Plankton, Adrian. They eat plankton.”

He groaned dramatically. “Okay, well, that’s misleading! They’re huge! You’d think something that big would at least eat something with teeth.”

You kept going, but he kept missing nearly every question. He’s getting facts wrong, mixing up species, confidently giving the most ridiculous answers imaginable. Each time, you tried not to laugh too hard because it hurt to move, but it was impossible not to smile.

You were already grinning before you even finished reading the last question. “Okay, final one. What’s the wingspan of a giant oceanic manta ray?”

Adrian sat up straighter, confidence reignited. “Easy. Fifteen  feet.”

You looked at the screen. He was very, very wrong.

But you glanced at his face, how proud and confident he looked, how hard he was trying just to make you forget the pain and you found yourself smiling softly.

“Yeah,” you said, voice gentle. “That’s right.”

He beamed, sitting back proudly. “Knew it.”

You chuckled under your breath, watching him tape down the last piece of gauze.

“Thanks, Adrian,” you murmured, your voice softer now. “Really. You didn’t have to do all this.”

He glanced up at you, expression oddly serious for once. “Well, I don’t  want one of my bff’s dying on me.”

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. “You should probably go, though. It’s like two in the morning. I’m fine now, really.”

Adrian froze mid-motion, tape still in his hand. “Go? Why would I go?”

“Because it’s late,” you said gently. “And you’ve already done enough. I’ll be okay.”

He frowned, like the idea of leaving hadn’t even crossed his mind until you mentioned it. “Yeah, but… what if you pass out or something? Or, like, your wound gets infected and you need to call someone but your phone’s still broken? What then?”

You sighed, a tired little laugh slipping out. “I’ll survive. I’ve handled worse.”

Adrian didn’t look convinced. He just sat back on his heels, studying you with that strangely stubborn set to his jaw. “You should at least let me stay until you fall asleep. You know, just in case. Medical supervision.”

You shook your head, hiding your smile. “Fine. But only until I fall asleep.”

He gave you a mock salute, his grin softening as his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual. “Deal.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, wait. Can I borrow your phone again?”

“Yeah, of course.” He handed it over after unlocking it. “Why?”

“I should probably text Adebayo. She’s gonna freak if she finds out I got stabbed and didn’t check in.”

“Good call,” he said, busy gathering the first aid supplies back into the kit.

You took the phone, thumb brushing over the screen. The messages app was still open, the list of his recent conversations pulled up. Your name sat right at the top, just above Adebayo’s.

And under your name, faded gray preview text.

adrian: i know you’re probably ignoring me, but I need to tell you something important—

You froze for a heartbeat, eyes flicking toward him. He didn’t notice, too busy fumbling with a roll of gauze, mumbling something about how it never fit back in the box right.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, the unfinished words still visible in that tiny preview. You knew you shouldn’t look longer than a second, shouldn’t wonder what came after important, but the thought lodged in your chest all the same.

You swallowed, quickly tapping on Adebayo’s name instead. 

“Thanks,” you said, forcing your tone light.

You handed the phone back once you hit send, and Adrian took it with a small smile before setting it on the coffee table. He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto your couch like he owned the place, grabbing the throw pillow and hugging it to his chest.

“You know this isn’t a guest room, right?” you said, one brow lifting.

He grinned up at you. “What are you talking about? It’s perfect. Great lighting, excellent couch support, proximity to your fridge. Five stars.”

You let out a tired laugh, shaking your head as you turned toward your bedroom. But you didn’t make it more than a few steps before the question slipped out hesitantly.

“What are you even doing here, Adrian?”

He looked up, blinking like you’d caught him off guard. “I told you. I was just, you know, checking on you.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes flicking back toward him. “Is that really the only reason you’re here?”

Adrian froze, mid-adjustment of the blanket he’d been trying to wrap around himself. His mouth opened, then closed again like he was buffering.

“Uh… yeah,” he said finally, too quickly. “I mean—yeah, of course. What else would I be here for? Just, you know, normal friend concern. Totally platonic, medical-grade concern.”

You stared at him, unimpressed. “Medical-grade concern?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding way too earnestly. “Like, you’re hurt, I’m concerned, boom: science.”

That pulled a small, reluctant smile from you, but you didn’t look away. “You’re deflecting.”

He blinked. “No, I’m… reflecting.”

“Deflecting,” you repeated, your voice soft but certain.

Adrian’s mouth opened, then closed again. His knee bounced a little, like the words were stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat. “The truth is… I…”

You waited. And waited.

Finally, you sighed and finished for him. “You have something to tell me?”

His head snapped up, eyes wide. “How’d you? wait, how’d you know that?”

You hesitated, guilt flickering across your face. “Uh… I might’ve read your text.”

His whole body tensed. “You what?!”

“Just one text!” you blurted, holding up your hands defensively. “I swear, it was just the preview. Your message to me popped up right under Adebayo’s. I didn’t mean to, it was right there!”

Adrian’s face went red. “Oh my god. Oh my god. You saw it. You read the whole thing, didn’t you? You know what I was gonna say. Shit, I wasn’t ready to—fuck.”

“Adrian. Adrian, breathe.”

He froze mid-panic, looking at you.

You softened. “I didn’t read the whole thing, okay? Just a glimpse. Relax. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Adrian stared at you for a long second, still pink in the face, lips pressed in a tight line. Then, quieter, almost to himself, he muttered, “Yeah. That’s kinda the problem.”

You shifted, leaning against the doorframe, studying him. “What do you mean by that?”

Adrian hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing. I just—forget it.”

You tilted your head slightly, voice soft but steady. “Adrian.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That gentle interrogation voice,” he said, waving a hand at you. 

“I’m not interrogatibg you. Just asking a question.” You said, shrugging.

He huffed, but his eyes flicked toward you, restless, searching. Finally, he sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Okay. Fine. You wanna know what I meant?”

You nodded.

He took a breath. “I was just… thinking about what you thought of, you know… us.”

You blinked slowly, pretending not to understand. “Us?”

He made a face. “Yeah, us.”

You lifted a brow, feigning confusion. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Adrian gave you a half-exasperated look. “You know what I mean, alternate universe us. The version of us that was… together and in love.” His voice dropped at the end, awkward and uncertain. “You ever think about that? About… them?”

You hesitated, eyes flicking down to your hands. “About them? Sometimes.” Your voice was soft, almost careful. “About them dating? …honestly, a lot.”

Adrian blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait, really? Like—a lot a lot?” he asked. 

“As in… you’ve imagined them doing couple stuff? Like holding hands, going on dates, making breakfast together, maybe—” He stopped himself, eyes widening a bit. “—okay, not gonna finish that sentence, but still! You’ve thought about it?”

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I mean… they seemed happy together despite everything.” You paused, your gaze softening as you met his eyes. “Like you said… seeing them together just felt right.”

Adrian’s expression shifted, that usual spark of humor dimming into something quieter, more sincere. 

“Yeah, It did. Like it was supposed to be that way or something.” He hesitated, eyes flicking to you and then away again. “Kinda makes you wonder if maybe… that feeling doesn’t just belong to them, you know?”

Adrian’s words hung in the air between you, heavier than either of you expected.

Your breath caught. “What are you saying, Adrian?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away. “I’m saying… look after everything, I kept telling myself it was stupid to think about. You know, about the alternate universe us. But then I’d catch myself wondering if maybe they were onto something. Like maybe… that version of us figured something out that we haven’t.”

You felt something twist in your chest. Hope, fear and everything tangled together. You wanted to say something but your throat was tight, so all that came out was a whisper. 

“Adrian, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” he said, voice low but firm, and the way he looked at you made your pulse skip. “Fuck, I do. I’m saying what if? What if, in this universe, we’re meant to be together too?”

You froze, the words hitting harder than you wanted them to. You’d spent the past few days burying this exact thought, trying to pretend it wasn’t there, and now he was dragging it out into the open with that same reckless honesty that always managed to undo you.

“Adrian,” you started, forcing your voice steady even though your chest ached, “the only reason you’re even thinking about an us is because of them. The other us. That’s it.”

He shook his head hard, stepping closer. “What? No, that’s not it.” His voice was desperate now, raw and sincere in a way that made it hard to breathe. “Look, other me said it was different with you. That you had this pull, and it made sense to him. And I didn’t get it then, but now I do.”

You frowned, trying to hold your ground even as your pulse stuttered. “What the fuck even is that supposed to mean? A pull?”

“It’s—okay, okay, it’s like…” He gestured wildly, searching the air for the right words. “You know how magnets work? Of course you do. But like, you can’t see what’s making them stick together, but they just do. They’re, uh… magnetically compelled or whatever.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling us magnets?”

“Kind of?” he said, tone helplessly earnest. “Except not in a creepy, science-experiment way. More like…” He trailed off, then snapped his fingers. “Like that thing where you’re trying really hard not to think about something, and it just keeps popping up in your head anyway. That’s what it feels like with you. Like there’s this… invisible gravity or force field or whatever, and it keeps pulling me back to you even when I try not to.”

You stared at him, thrown off by the mix of sincerity and total lack of filter. “Adrian, that’s not—”

He cut you off, stepping closer again, his voice quick and unguarded now. “No, listen, I mean it. I’ll be in the middle of work, or watching some dumb movie, or, like, cleaning my weapons and then I’ll just start thinking about you. And it’s not like, oh, random thought, whatever. It’s like—bam! You’re just there. Every single time.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

He took another step, close enough now that you could feel his breath when he spoke. “So yeah, maybe it’s a pull. Maybe it’s dumb. But I can’t stop feeling it. I don’t want to stop feeling it.”

You stared at him, every word sinking in deeper than you wanted it to. The air between you felt too heavy, too close. Like if you moved even an inch, you’d accidentally cross a line you couldn’t uncross.

And God, he looked so earnest. Eyes wide and a little nervous, but full of something real, something you’d been trying to ignore for far too long.

You wanted to say something, anything but your throat felt tight. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard to breathe around him.

So instead, you whispered the first thing that came to mind.

“Adrian… why did you take that bullet for me?”

“Uh… the first time or the second time?”

Despite the knot in your chest, a laugh slipped out. If you had a nickle for everytime Adrian took a bullet for you, you’d have two nickles which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice right? 

“Both,” you said softly.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as if searching for the right words. “Okay, well… the first time was easy. You were nice to me. You… kind of saved me that day too, remember? It was the least I could do.”

You did remember. The chaos of that mission at the Butterfly base. There was gunfire, shouting, smoke so thick it burned your lungs. You’d been separated from the team, cornered behind a crumbling wall, and when you heard the shot ring out, you didn’t think—you just ran. You’d found him bleeding out, dazed but still trying to smile through it. You’d dragged him to cover, pressing your hands against the wound while yelling at him to stay awake.

You were still caught in that memory when he spoke again.

“The second time…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before finding yours again. His tone was different now. It was unsteady, sincere. “That one wasn’t about owing you anything.”

Your breath hitched. “Then what was it about?”

He swallowed, hands fidgeting slightly at his sides. “I don’t know. I mean—I do know, but it sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

“Adrian,” you said quietly, “just say it.”

He exhaled hard, like he was bracing himself. “Because I couldn’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. Not you.” His voice was quiet but full of conviction, every word hitting like a heartbeat. “It wasn’t logic or training or anything like that. I just, didn’t think. My body moved before my brain could catch up. It was like… that pull thing again, you know? Except this time, it hurt a hell of a lot more.”

Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it echoed in your ears. You could see the tension in Adrian’s shoulders, the nervous twitch in his jaw and still, he didn’t back away.

“So… just so we’re clear,” you said quietly, “you like me?”

Adrian blinked, like he couldn’t believe you had to ask. “Uh, yeah. Obviously. I mean—I just told you I think about you all the time, and that I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt, and that I’ve taken literal bullets for you. I feel like that kinda covers it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

He frowned, earnest. “Yeah, I’m sure. Unless you think I’m, like, in denial or something, but I’m pretty sure this is what liking someone feels like. Heart pounding, brain short-circuiting, doing stupid heroic stuff for them—yeah, that checks out.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed, shaking your head.

Then his expression shifted suddenly, the realization hitting him mid-sentence. “Wait. Shit.” He pointed at you, looking almost panicked. “I just said all that out loud, and I don’t even know if you like me back.”

You snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but like—” He gestured vaguely. “A hopeful idiot?”

You smiled then, really smiled, the kind that ached a little. You could’ve denied it, played it off, made some joke but instead you just said softly, “Maybe.”

The air between you thickened, warm and nervous. You watched him swallow hard, his fingers twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Adrian,” you said, almost under your breath, “can I kiss you?”

His breath caught. “What?”

“To you know…test the theory. See if we’re actually meant to be together in this universe. See if the “pull” you’re talking about is actually there.” 

“Oh. Uh—yeah. Yeah, definitely.”

You leaned in first. The kiss started awkward. Your noses bumped, he tilted the wrong way, and for a second it was almost funny. He froze for a second, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

Then it clicked.

Adrian made a soft, startled sound against your mouth and kissed you back, clumsy at first, then really into it—too into it, almost, like all that nervous energy had finally found a place to go. His hand brushed your jaw, careful but eager, and you could feel the smile forming against your lips when you let out a small laugh mid-kiss.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t smooth. But it was real.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard. He blinked, a little dazed, hair sticking up from where you’d touched it.

“So…” he said, a small grin forming, voice still a little breathless. “I think that’s a yes?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Hmm. I don’t know,” you said, drawing it out. “I think we might have to kiss again to be sure.”

The smile on his face faltered immediately. “Wait, what? You didn’t feel anything?” His brow furrowed, eyes wide with the kind of genuine confusion only Adrian could pull off. “Did I mess it up? I can try again—maybe I used too much tongue, or not enough, or—”

You couldn’t help laughing, cutting him off as you reached for him. “Adrian, I’m kidding.”

His mouth opened, about to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. You leaned in and kissed him again, firmer this time, surer. His breath hitched against your lips before he melted into it completely, hands hesitating for a split second before finding your waist.

This kiss wasn’t clumsy or uncertain. It was warm, a little desperate, and when you finally pulled away, he looked dazed, eyes soft and unfocused.

“Oh,” he whispered, a slow grin spreading. “Yeah… definitely a yes.”

You smiled against his cheek, heart still racing, and for the first time all night, neither of you said anything else. 

Everything just… felt right. The quiet, the warmth of his hands still resting on your waist, the faint brush of his breath against your skin. You’d spent so long convincing yourself this couldn’t happen, that it shouldn’t but standing there in Adrian’s arms, it didn’t feel complicated at all. It felt easy. Natural. Like every version of you, in every universe, would have found their way right here anyway.

And as his thumb traced an absentminded circle against your side, you realized maybe that pull he talked about wasn’t so impossible after all.

a/n: do you guys know how hard it was to not use "Y/N" in this fic? I try my best to not use "Y/N" and opt for 'you said your name" or smth like that, and it was so hard to do in this fic cause honestly even i was geting confused on who alt-reader and main reader was T-T

anyways, i hope you enjoyed reading the fic :D comment down below on what's your fave pokemon game, i js started playing pokemon emerald cause of this fic :p

taglist: @greeniegreengreen @bakugotypecrashout @sadpods @boogiemansbitch @nanni197 @kooculture @iluvcatsalot @deadpoolgirl23 @lavzxx

[multifandomposts-blog]

Confidence

Michael Jackson x Black!Reader

warnings: mentions of Joe Jackson’s stupid ass, emotional tension, invasive interview questions, public scrutiny, fluff/comfort, confident Michael Jackson, soft romance

The studio was loud.

Music playing through the speakers, somebody arguing over harmonies in the background, Jackie laughing too loudly at something Marlon said, people constantly moving in and out of the room.

But Michael looked completely unbothered by any of it.

You noticed it immediately from where you sat on the couch near the soundboard, legs crossed while watching him through the glass window of the booth.

He looked different lately.

Still soft. Still gentle.

But steadier now, more sure of himself.

Like he was finally learning how to exist without making himself smaller first.

He stood inside the booth with the headphones pushed over his curls, one hand moving slightly with the rhythm while he sang.

Relaxed.

Beautiful.

“Again,” Joe said harshly from behind the soundboard. “You’re dragging the note.”

A few years ago, Michael probably would’ve apologized immediately.

Would’ve redone the whole thing without question. 

Instead, he adjusted the headphones over his curls and pressed the button calmly. 

“No,” he said. “I like it this way.”

The room got quiet for a second.

Surprised quiet.

Joe frowned immediately.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Michael stepped out of the booth slowly.

“It means I like the run,” he answered evenly. “It sounds better.”

Joe looked ready to argue again, but Michael didn’t back down this time. Didn’t avoid eye contact.

You watched the exact moment Joe realized pushing him wouldn’t work the same way anymore.

Joe looked like he wanted to push the issue further, but Michael already turned slightly toward the producer instead.

“Can we play it back?”

And just like that, the conversation moved on.

You stared at him from your spot on the couch, trying not to smile too hard.

Because there it was again.

Michael finally understanding that his opinion matters too.

— — — — — 

By the time the studio emptied out later that night, Michael looked exhausted.

He practically dropped onto the couch beside you with a dramatic sigh, throwing one arm across his face.

“Tired?” you asked softly.

“Mhm.”

You smiled a little before reaching over and fixing the collar of his jacket where it had folded awkwardly.

“You did good today.”

Michael looked down for a second, smiling shyly to himself despite everything.

“I’m trying.”

“You don’t have to try to deserve respect, baby.”

That made him look up immediately.

And there it was.

That look he always got whenever you said something that meant more to him than he could ever have expected.

“You know what your problem is?” you murmured.

Michael blinked slowly.

“What?”

“You spent so much time trying to please people that you forgot you're allowed to be one.”

You smiled.

 “I think you’re finally letting yourself exist, as just Michael, and I love it.”

— — — — — 

The interviewer was smiling too hard.

That was the first red flag.

Michael sat comfortably beside you beneath the bright studio lights, one leg crossed over the other, while cameras pointed toward him from every angle imaginable.

“You’ve changed a lot recently,” the interviewer said carefully.

Michael tilted his head slightly.

“I hope so.”

The interviewer laughed awkwardly.

“No, I mean… people say you seem more confident lately.”

Michael smiled softly.

“There’s nothing wrong with confidence.”

“No, of course not,” the interviewer rushed to say. “But some people think success has changed you.”

A few years ago, he would’ve folded into himself trying to sound agreeable.

He looked completely relaxed.

“I worked very hard for my success,” he said calmly. “There’s nothing wrong with being proud of my work.”

The audience immediately applauded.

The interviewer blinked slightly, clearly thrown off by how direct the answer was.

“And what about rumors that you’re becoming difficult to work with?”

You almost rolled your eyes.

Michael just smiled faintly.

“I think people have been very comfortable speaking over me my whole life,” he answered. “I’m simply not allowing it anymore.”

The audience reacted to that immediately.

You tried not to smile too hard beside him.

The interviewer shifted again.

“And your relationship? Has fame affected that at all?”

Michael glanced at you briefly before looking back toward the interviewer.

“No,” he answered simply.

“No problems?”

Michael smiled this time.

A real smile.

“None at all”

— — — — — 

By the end of the award show, your hands actually hurt from clapping.

“Again?!” somebody whispered loudly from another table as Michael’s name was called for what felt like the millionth time that night.

You were laughing by award number ten.

Every single time he walked back toward the stage, the applause somehow got louder.

And every single time, he looked toward you first before standing.

By award fifteen?

Forget it.

The entire room was standing before he even reached the microphone.

Michael laughed softly into the mic, shaking his head slightly while adjusting the award in his hands.

“I… wow.”

He glanced down briefly before looking back up.

“For a long time,” he said slowly, “I thought if I just worked harder and harder, eventually maybe I’d feel deserving of all this.”

The room went completely quiet.

“But I think…” he paused, smiling faintly, “I think maybe I already was.”

Your heart speed up instantly.

And judging by the audience reaction, you definitely weren’t the only one.

Michael’s eyes found yours again automatically from across the stage.

And for once

He didn’t look overwhelmed by everybody watching him.

He looked proud.

@simply-lovley44 @cocomilaa @blcknebula @stiflersbabymama @callmeoncette @needjoekeery @nuttyrebelflower @1eliana123-blog @ladyearthsea @rastharex @darkgreengrl @bananajoeclone @violet0182 @minghaossv @melynex @thebabykashmere @ghoulxeg

[weregonnaneedabiggerboat]

Oooooh fic idea!

Could you do a pure fluff story where Jax is being extra affectionate towards the reader and the reader can't figure out why?

Love your stories keep up the good work 🫶

Mini Writes — Clingy Bun

Jax x Reader

Oneshot | 1.6k

CW: Quick mention of existential angst, some tickling, Jax could be OOC, there's an implied "kys" joke

Summary: Jax bursts into your bedroom all sad n shit, much to your confusion. But as you two interact more, he finds himself feeling better with your presence. Reader is implied to be a creative of some kind.

A/N: FINALLY I'VE BEEN ABLE TO THINK OF HOW TO DO THIS PROMPT DJSOSNX Bro I have to introduce some angst into EVERYTHING I do but I hope this is fluffy-ish enough so it's not jarringly angsty like my other stuff XD ALSO THANK YOU SM FOR SUGGESTING THIS!! This was fun to write tbh hehe I love silly Jax— I hope you like it too!!!

∘₊✧─────────✧₊∘

You tapped your pen on your chin, staring at the work in your journal in deep thought.

Today's adventure sounded boring, so you decided not to go. Instead you wanted to work on your own creative endeavors as a way to unwind and relax from all the… Chaos that's been the last few adventures.

You liked your new friends and honestly, life here wasn't so terrible—if you ignore the existential horror that accompanies it. But then again, what's life without a little philosophical anguish and despair?

…Wow, what an awesome train of thought.

You shook your head and brought your pen to the paper again, adding onto the piece you were already creating. If you were going to have existential angst, the least you could do is vent it out in your creative process.

That is, if you had any inspiration in mind to use…

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a rattle from the lock of your bedroom door, and your eyes flicked up to the source of the noise.

The door swung open to reveal a very tall, very tired-looking purple rabbit. You couldn't quite pinpoint the exact emotion in his expression, but the closest you could get was boredom mixed with malcontent.

You smiled, placing the pen in the spiral of your journal and shutting it closed to place on your night stand.

“Back from the adventure, already?” you joked, pressing your palms on the bed and pulling yourself up a little. Though, Jax didn't seem to return the smile.

He grumbled something under his breath and shut your door behind him, miserably trudging up to your bed and flopping face first on top of you.

You grunted, letting out a small oof! when his weight collapsed on top of you. Your smile disappeared, instead replaced with a look of befuddlement.

“Uh, Jax?” you chuckled, mildly amused by how frustrated the poor bunny seemed, but mostly puzzled at what's going on. “Everything okay?”

Jax responded by mumbling something, muffled by your stomach that his face was buried in. He squirmed on the bed a little and shifted his position, wrapping his lanky arms around you and bringing his legs up to curl them against you.

Okay, now you were effectively confused. What was he being so clingy for??

“Jax get off,” you huffed, gently pushing on his shoulder. The only thing that earned you was a whine from him, followed by an even louder growl and a tighter grasp when you pushed harder.

Jax stuck his face in your chest, refusing to move, which led you to sigh heavily and lay back against your pillows again. You placed a hand on his head and gently patted, your face hanging neutrally.

What a weirdo…

That thought was only validated when you felt him gently start rubbing his chin and cheek against you, and you could've sworn you heard a soft purr from him as he did so. He rubbed his chin against your collarbone before gently nuzzling your neck and sighing as he relaxed again.

Your eyes darted from a random direction in your bedroom and back to him multiple time as you tried to decipher what was going on.

Did he have a brain tumour?

Was that even possible in the Digital Circus??

You shook your head and looked down at Jax again, refocusing on the situation at hand. Albeit the puzzled expression on your face, you figured… It was… Kinda cute, maybe…?

The way he softly breathed as he rested on top of you, his chest subtly rising and falling. You leaned over a bit to observe his expression, and he was smiling softly with his eyes closed.

All of this was incredibly bizarre. However, you couldn't help but think it was a little… endearing, in a way.

The most logical explanation you could come up with was that you must've been the only person he trusted in the circus to be this vulnerable around. It made sense in your head because you spoke to him the most kindly out of everyone.

However, you couldn't deny that it was quite odd seeing this trust in action.

You smiled, your expression relaxing into one of soft affection. It wasn't often that Jax acted this adorable, so heck it, why not? You brought your hand to his head, gently petting him behind his ears. He leaned into your touch, and you began to scritch him in response.

“So… Did you have a bad adventure or something?” you snickered teasingly, your free hand resting on his back.

Jax mumbled in response, sighing out a soft grumble. He pouted, so you took that as a yes, and you giggled softly at his flustered reaction.

“Aww, poor baby. There was no blood, death, or violence?” you teased, which he flicked his pupils up to glare at you for.

Jax didn't look amused at all, which made you grin and start to snicker at his adorably angry eyes. He only narrowed them the more you laughed at him, his ears irately pinning back against his head.

“Abstract yourself.”

You cackled loudly at that comment, which he didn't seem to appreciate. He growled and pinched your side in retaliation, which you yelped and flinched at in surprise.

“Ow! Okay okay!” You giggled, patting his head as he slumped back down on top of you like an annoyed puppy. You couldn't help but find him stupidly hilarious and adorable whenever he was frustrated. You could never take him seriously, even when he did some shiz like tie you to the ceiling fan or shove you off the jungle gym.

Jax was acutely aware of how much amusement you found in his petty gestures towards you, and honestly your laugh was worth not making them worse. It always helped him feel better to see you so amused at his antics. Much better than when Ragatha yelled at him or when Gangle started crying.

He hid his face from your view, because he couldn't prevent the smile from creeping onto his face as you continued to giggle. However, that didn't stop him from gently pinching your ribs this time, earning another yelp and a louder giggle from you.

“Hehe hey! Quit that,” you protested with a playful grin, but he just clung even tighter onto you. His fingers gently fluttered up and down your ribs, making you laugh even harder and start to squirm.

“Makin’ fun of me, huh? Not taking me seriously, huh?” he pretended to scold, using his weight to keep you pinned on the bed. His face was still hidden in your shoulder, since he couldn't keep himself from grinning widely at how funny you were when you were laughing so hard. “Shame on you, Y/N. I thought we were friends. Is this how you treat your friends?”

“We ahahare friehehends!!” you squealed, giggling and trying to shove him off of you. But you knew this was a sign he was feeling better, no matter how much he wanted to hide that. Tears of mirth began to prick at your eyes the harder you laughed, you didn't even know if you were laughing from the tickling or from how stupid Jax was acting right now.

Meanwhile Jax was enjoying the sounds of your laughter, tickling you for a bit longer before he relented and rested his arm around your waist again. He lifted his head to observe your tired expression, a playful grin on his face.

You still had some residual giggles to get out, but you smiled back at him, poking where his nose would be.

Jax playfully rolled his eyes and settled his head on the pillow, next to where yours rested. He placed his hand on your cheeks and used his thumb and forefinger to squish your face into a kissy expression. His grin stretched even wider at the silly expression he forced on you, and even snickered when you giggled in response.

“So what were you doing before I got here to make your existence worthwhile?” he teased, still keeping your face in that pose and squishing it a few times.

You, being unable to talk, made a series of fish noises instead, which prompted him to laugh even more at your total acceptance of this predicament. He let his hand go off your face just to bring it to his head to laugh harder.

You grinned, letting him get it out of his system. It was so often that Jax played the clown for you whenever you were sad, so seeing him genuinely laugh so hard at something you were doing was a little heartwarming.

“What, you don't understand fishy-nese?” you giggled, making him wheeze even harder and throw his back on the bed, his arm over his face as he cackled. “I thought you were fluent in all languages, Jax.”

“WhEHENnn—” Jax tried to compose himself, but was still giggling softly. “When did I say thahat!?”

“Oh, so now you're lying to me.”

Jax snorted and let out another series of cackles and giggles as you laughed right along with him. His eyes finally met yours when he quickly composed himself again. You gave him a cheeky expression, he returned it with a shake of his head. He poked your nose, wrapping his arms around you again.

“You're impossible,” he chuckled warmly, resting his head on top of yours. He poked your cheek, pinching it lightly before resting his hand next to your face. “But really, what were you doing?”

“Eh, the usual,” you hummed, picking up your journal and waving it in the air a bit to show him. “Wanna see what I've been working on?”

“Is it more cringe?”

“Yeah, you'll love it.”

Jax snorted at your quip, then shrugged. He shifted his position so he could hold you and see your journal at the same time, then he sighed quietly and smiled, glancing down. “Yeah, sure. Whatcha got, pipsqueak?”

You made yourself comfortable in his arms, smiling as he shifted around. You finally opened your journal once you were both ready, resting your head against his chest. “Here, come see…”

[killerplink]

DEVOTION

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Plot: A fight with Jason gets heated—sharp words, stubborn tempers, neither of you backing down. But when the tension snaps, it turns into something else entirely. Something raw, desperate, and messy.

Words: 10k

The apartment door slams behind you both, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet space. Your heels clack against the hardwood as you stalk toward the bedroom, too pissed to even look at him right now. Jason follows, his heavy boots thudding after you, that cocky swagger in every step even though you're very clearly fuming.

"Are you really gonna be mad all night?" he asks, tone half lazy, half exasperated.

You whip around so fast your hair flies over your shoulder, finger already pointed at his chest. "Yes! Jason, I swear to God, you're fucking impossible!"

His brows shoot up, that infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth. "What'd I do now, doll?"

"What'd you do? Are you serious?"

You step closer, eyes flashing, and jab a finger into his chest. "You almost started a fight at the restaurant! Over nothing! Just—someone bumped into me, and suddenly you're ready to crack skulls like you're still some street kid with nothing to lose, except you have everything to lose, Jason! I have everything to lose!"

That softens his smirk, just a little. But it doesn't disappear, not entirely. "Baby, I had it under control."

"No, you didn't!"

Your voice breaks on the words, frustration and fear tangled up too tight in your chest. "You never have it under control when you get like that. You stop thinking. It's like you don't even care what happens to you."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You're bein' dramatic."

That knocks some of the wind out of his cocky sails, but true to form, Jason Todd never backs down that easily. "I can handle myself, baby. I've been in worse fights before you even knew me."

"Oh, fuck you."

You turn away, arms crossed tight, nails digging into your own skin like you can hold yourself together if you just squeeze hard enough. "I'm not being dramatic, Jay. I'm scared. Every time you act like your life doesn't matter, it scares the shit out of me because your life does matter. To me."

"And maybe that's the problem!" you spin around again, hands flung wide. "You're so used to throwing yourself into danger like you've got a death wish, you don't even think about the people who love you, who have to watch you do it. Who have to fucking wait and hope you come home in one piece."

His jaw clenches, that sharp edge of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. "I came home tonight, didn't I?"

"Barely! If Dick hadn't dragged you out of there—"

"—I would've walked out just fine on my own," he cuts in, voice hard, this close to losing his temper too.

You both stand there, breathing hard, anger seeping through every pore. Your heart is hammering against your ribs, anger and fear and love all tangled into a knot you can't untie. And goddamn him, even now, with his blood still running hot from almost throwing down, with that cocky little glint still in his eye... he looks good. Messy hair, jaw clenched tight, that black shirt stretched over his broad chest, his hands flexing like he still has adrenaline to burn.

You want to shake him. You want to kiss him. You want to scream until your throat hurts.

Jason exhales, slow and heavy, like he's trying to ease some of that heat out of his chest before you both say something you can't take back.

"Baby," he says quieter, "I'm fine."

Your throat closes up. "For now."

He takes a step closer, hands sliding to your waist, fingers curling into your dress. "I'm not goin' anywhere, pretty girl."

You shake your head, eyes stinging. "You can't promise that."

Jason sighs as he leans down, forehead tipping against yours. "What do you want me to say, huh? That I'll never lose my temper again? That I'll play nice and walk away every time some asshole gets in my face? That's not who I am."

"I know," you whisper. "But it's who I wish you could be. Just for me."

That hits somewhere deep, somewhere tender he doesn't let many people see. But instead of softening, Jason leans into the heat instead because that's how he knows to handle fear, with fire.

"C'mere," he mutters, dragging you into him, arms wrapping tight around your waist. "You wanna fight with me? Do it right here, baby. Get it out of your system."

You shove at his chest, and he catches your wrist, twisting you into him like a dance, his breath warm against your ear.

"Or," he says, voice all heat, "you can find a better way to work out all that attitude."

"Fuck off," you snap, but it's weaker, your anger turning into something messier, hotter.

Your breath catches, nails curling into his chest again, not pushing this time, just holding on.

He chuckles, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "C'mon, pretty girl. You're pissed, I'm pissed, and you're standin' here looking like that."

His hands slide down, grabbing your ass hard through your dress. "We both know exactly how this night's gonna end."

"Still mad at me, baby?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he grins against your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. "Lemme make it up to you."

Your hands land flat on his chest, shoving him back, catching him off guard enough that he stumbles two steps out of the bedroom. And before he can say a damn word, you slam the door right in his stupid, handsome, reckless face. Not locked, just shut, because locking it feels too final, too mean, and you're pissed, but not that pissed.

Jason stares at the door for half a second, then his forehead drops against it with a low thud and he knocks his head against it once, twice, just hard enough to feel it.

"Fuck."

He didn't mean to ruin the night. He never means to ruin shit when it comes to you. But the moment that asshole's hand brushed against your ass—innocent or not—it flipped a fucking switch in him. And maybe that's fucked up, maybe he's got a million unresolved issues tied to losing everyone he's ever given a shit about, but you?

You're his. His girl, his future, his everything, and seeing someone else's hand anywhere near you sends him spiraling into that ugly, possessive part of himself that only you've ever managed to soften.

And yeah, maybe the guy didn't mean it, maybe it was just a crowded restaurant and accidents happen, but Jason's not the kind of man who plays it cool. Not when it comes to you. Not when he loves you so much it hurts sometimes, sitting right there under his ribs like a bruise he can't stop poking.

He presses his palms to the door, wishing he could just rewind the whole night—go back to you looking so pretty at the restaurant, all smiles and soft touches, letting him steal kisses between courses. You'd been happy. And then he fucked it up. Again.

Inside the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the sheets, trying to hold back the sting in your eyes. You won't cry—you won't—but your throat's tight, and your chest aches, and the night feels like it's unraveling right between your fingers.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. It's Tim's fucking birthday, for God's sake. The restaurant had been beautiful, the food actually good for once, the atmosphere soft and warm with all your friends laughing and talking and teasing each other.

And then some random guy brushed past you on his way to the bathroom, bumping your hip, and Jason went feral. You love that he's protective—God, you do—but Gotham is full of crazy assholes, and you don't want him starting a fight with someone who might pull out a gun and blow his brains out over a misunderstanding.

The thought makes your stomach churn, fear sliding ice cold down your spine, and you have to shake it off before it eats you alive. You stand, fingers reaching behind you to unzip your dress, and it slides off your body, pooling at your feet. And that's when you catch your reflection in the mirror and yeah, no wonder he couldn't keep his hands off you all night.

The lingerie underneath? It's not the kind you wear every day. This is the good shit—black lace and thin straps, sheer panels teasing the curves of your tits, a matching thong barely covering anything, thin enough to show just how wet you already are.

Because for all the shit he's pulling tonight, Jason's still your hot ass, broad shouldered, cocky as hell boyfriend, and your pussy? She does not hold grudges.

You're still mad. You still wanna shake him until his teeth rattle. But you also want him to fuck you so hard you forget why you were even mad to begin with.

You sigh, tug open the bedroom door, and march straight into the living room, chin high, steps confident even though your knees are still a little weak from all that adrenaline. And, yeah, maybe from how fucking good he made you cum this morning.

Jason's slouched on the couch, head tipped back, hands dragging down his face, and when he hears your footsteps, he looks up and freezes.

His eyes rake over you, tongue darting out to wet his lips like his mouth's gone dry. "Jesus Christ."

You cross your arms under your tits, pushing them up just a little higher. "What? Cat got your tongue, big guy?"

His gaze flicks from your face to your tits to the sheer lace stretched over your hips, and the way the thin strip of fabric between your legs is already dark with how wet you are.

"You're tryin' to fuckin' kill me," he mutters, half to himself, half to you.

You cock a hip, all attitude, even though your pulse is hammering. "Thought you liked a challenge."

Jason pushes up from the couch, moving slow, shoulders broad and tense, every line of him saying he's holding himself back—barely. "You're still mad at me."

"Furious," you agree.

"And you're standin' there looking like that."

You glance down at yourself, trailing a finger over the top of your bra, down the center of your stomach. "Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?"

He's on you in two steps, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other grabbing a handful of your ass, yanking you flush against him. "Gonna fuck the attitude right outta you, baby."

"Promises, promises."

He kisses you hard enough to steal your breath, hands already roaming, already tugging at the straps of your bra, already ready to tear you apart and put you back together again, but you're faster. You grab two handfuls of his shirt, spinning him around and shoving him back onto the couch. He goes down without a fight, grinning like the cocky bastard he is, because you both know you can't actually budge him unless he lets you.

But fuck, does it turn him on when you try.

Jason sprawls into the cushions, legs spread, hands braced on his thighs like he's daring you to climb on top of him, but instead, you drop to your knees between his legs. His whole body tenses, chest rising slower, breath catching because you—all pissed off, all attitude, all tits spilling out of that black lace bra—are kneeling right there, looking up at him like you're about to ruin his fucking life.

And for once, Jason Todd has nothing to say.

You reach for his belt slowly, dragging the leather free of the loops with a sharp tug, and you swear you see his fingers twitch. He's already getting hard, already pressing against the front of his jeans, already so fucking easy for you.

The buckle clinks as you undo it, popping the button next, tugging the zipper down with a sound that seems louder than it should be. And then you pull his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free his dick, and fuck.

He's so fucking big, already hard and flushed, veins standing out along his length, and a bead of precum clings to the slit, catching the low light. Your pussy throbs on sight alone, clenching around nothing, still sore from the last time he was inside you.

Jason's hand lifts, fingers reaching for the back of your head—because of course he wants to grab your hair, guide your mouth, fuck your throat—but you slap his hand away, sharp and quick.

"No touching."

He freezes like you've just short-circuited every thought in his head. "What?"

Jason's jaw clenches, shoulders tight, every muscle in his thighs twitching, but he obeys. Barely. His hands grip the edge of the couch so tight his knuckles go white.

"No. Touching."

You wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, giving him one slow, punishing stroke, twisting your wrist just the way he likes. "You wanna act reckless? You wanna scare the shit outta me? You wanna start fights over shit that doesn't matter? Then you can sit there with your hands to yourself while I handle this."

You lean in, licking up the underside of his cock in one slow, wet drag, ending with a kiss to the tip that leaves your lips shiny with precum. "You're such a fucking idiot, you know that?"

"Yeah, baby," he rasps, voice already rougher. "I know."

You pump him slow, fingers squeezing just right, thumb swiping through the slick at his tip before you slide down again.

"What if you got yourself shot tonight, huh? What the fuck am I supposed to do if you get yourself killed because you can't stand someone breathing in my direction?"

His head tips back, throat flexing, cock leaking even more into your palm.

"Baby—"

"Who's gonna love me the way you do? Who's gonna fuck me if you're dead, Jason?"

You squeeze his dick just to see his hips jerk. "Who else knows how to ruin me like you do?"

His abs tighten, hands still gripping the couch, and his cock twitches in your grip, a fresh bead of precum sliding down the side. "You love that I'm possessive."

"No. Don't talk."

You flick your tongue against the tip, barely a taste, before you sit back on your heels, jerking him slow and mean. "You don't get to talk, you reckless, possessive, stupid fucking man."

You glare up at him, lips curling. "I do. But not when it puts you in danger, asshole." You kiss the tip again, softer this time. "Not when it makes me scared I'm gonna lose you."

Jason's breath stutters, and you see it. That crack in his tough guy armor, the one only you ever get to see. But you don't let him soften.

Not yet. Instead, you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock again, pumping him faster, twisting your wrist just right, watching his thighs tense and his hips fight not to thrust up into your mouth.

"Keep your hands there," you murmur, voice all sweet and mean at once. "And maybe I'll let you cum down my throat."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ."

His head falls back, a bead of sweat sliding down his neck, and you know you've got him right where you want him.

Jason yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, not even bothering with unbuttoning it because if you're gonna make him suffer, the least he can do is give you something to look at. And fuck, do you look.

Your hands rest on his thick thighs for a second, gaze dragging over every inked inch of him—the dark ink across his chest, the jagged lines along his ribs, the script down his arms that you've traced with your tongue a hundred times before. He's so fucking hot, all muscle and attitude, sprawled out, dick rock hard in your grip, glistening with spit and precum.

"Enjoyin' the view?"

His voice is pure gravel, but there's a waver in it, like he's already hanging by a thread.

"Shut the fuck up."

You lean in, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock again, tracing that thick vein with the tip of your tongue until you reach the head, circling it slowly before you take him into your mouth, lips stretching, jaw aching already, but you don't stop. You never stop.

He's too fucking big, he always is, but you try anyway, sinking lower, feeling the weight of him press against your tongue, the blunt head nudging the back of your throat.

"Greedy little thing," Jason mutters, hands twitching, and you see it. The instinct, the need to grab your hair and fuck your throat until you're crying.

But you slap his thigh sharply. "I said no touching."

"Baby—"

"No."

You sink back down, hollowing your cheeks, sucking him deep until your throat spasms around the fat tip, gagging. Tears prick your eyes, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, but you fucking love it. Love the way his thighs tense, love the way his dick jumps on your tongue, love how fucking desperate he looks.

His chest heaves, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "You're evil."

You hum around him, the vibration making him swear under his breath, and you pull off with a filthy pop, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his cock before you drag your tongue up the side again.

"Yeah? And what's that make you for loving it?"

"Completely fucked."

You grin and take him back into your mouth, bobbing your head faster, sucking him down until you gag again, drool dripping down your chin, slicking his cock even more. Your thighs press together, your pussy throbbing, panties soaked through. You can feel the sticky mess between your legs, the ache in your cunt, the way your body needs him, no matter how mad you are.

Jason groans, deep and low, and you glance up at him through wet lashes, seeing the flush on his chest, the tension in his jaw, the muscles jumping in his stomach. He's so fucking close already, you can tell, and every time he tries to lift a hand, you slap it back down, keeping him helpless beneath you, all that strength and power completely useless unless you let him use it.

"Baby, please." His voice cracks, and it's the hottest fucking thing you've ever heard.

You pull off one more time, stroking him fast and messy, your spit slick hand gliding easily along his length. "Please what?"

"Please lemme touch you."

You shake your head, licking up the underside again, tongue teasing his slit before you suck the head back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks until his hips buck, just once, just enough to choke you again. You swallow hard, tears sliding down your cheeks, and his dick throbs so hard you can feel it on your tongue.

"Be good," you murmur around him, voice muffled and obscene, "and I'll let you cum."

Jason's head falls back, a broken groan ripping from his throat, and you know you've got him. You sink back down, taking him as deep as you can, lips stretched tight around the fat width of his cock, spit and precum slicking your chin as you work him with all the devotion you can muster. What you can't fit—and there's always part of him you can't fit—you stroke with your hand, fingers gliding over the thick base, your palm sticky with drool and his slick.

Your tongue works the head, lapping up every drop of precum he leaks, tasting that salty, addictive tease of what's coming, and you fucking love it. You flick your tongue against his slit, suck gently on the sensitive tip before you sink down again, sucking hard, cheeks hollowed so tight your jaw aches, but you don't fucking care.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Jason groans, his voice wrecked, head tipped back against the couch, muscles tight like he's holding himself together with sheer fucking will. "You're perfect, baby. Mouth so goddamn good—fuck, you always know how to suck me just right."

The praise makes your pussy clench hard, heat flooding your belly, and you double down, bobbing your head faster, working him with both your mouth and hand until your throat burns and your jaw trembles. Every time you pull back, you leave a messy trail of spit and precum glistening along his length, but you dive right back in, tongue swirling around the head before you take him deep again.

"Look at you," Jason breathes, his voice low and rough. "So fuckin' pretty like this. My perfect girl. You love this dick, don't you?"

You hum around him, the vibration making his whole body twitch, and he groans so low it vibrates in your chest. You pull back just enough to gasp, "Love it, Jay. Best fucking dick I've ever had."

"Yeah?" His grin is sharp, dangerous. "Then show me, baby. Show me how much you love it."

Challenge fucking accepted. You take him deep again, swallowing around the head, ignoring the gag reflex that flares up as you press lower, working him into your throat until your nose brushes the skin at the base of his cock. You gag again, spit bubbling past your lips, but you don't stop. You fucking love how heavy he feels on your tongue, how thick and hot and perfect he is, filling your mouth like he was made for it.

Jason's fists clench at his sides, his whole body trembling with restraint. "So good for me, baby," he mutters, voice cracking with it. "So fuckin' good. My pretty, filthy fucking girl. Takin' me so deep—fuck, 'm gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill that perfect mouth."

You moan around him, and that's it. His hips jerk, cock swelling, and then he's cumming, thick ropes of cum spilling across your tongue, hot and salty and so much, it makes you whimper as you swallow, throat working hard to take it all.

He always cums a lot, his balls emptying in pulse after pulse, and you keep sucking, milking him through it, letting every drop slide down your throat until your belly feels warm with it. His cock throbs against your tongue, so sensitive it makes his hips twitch every time your tongue flicks over the head, but you don't stop until you know he's completely spent.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, voice rough and almost shaky. "Gonna kill me one of these days."

You pull back slowly, licking your swollen lips, wiping the mess from your chin with the back of your hand, and grin up at him, all fucked out satisfaction. Jason pulls you right into his lap, and you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself.

His hands slide down to grab your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, grinding you down against his cock, still hard and slick with your spit, and you moan when you feel the thick length press up against your soaked lace panties.

"Fuck," Jason mutters, dragging you along his cock again, feeling how drenched you are even through the lace. "That pretty pussy misses me already, huh?"

"Jay," you murmur, voice soft, needy, and when you lean in, he catches your mouth in a kiss—hot, messy, all tongue and teeth, licking into you like he's starving for your taste.

He groans low when he tastes himself on your tongue, dirty and possessive, and you whimper into his mouth, hips moving on their own, grinding down against him, chasing friction.

You break the kiss to breathe, forehead resting against his, and your fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck as you whisper, "Do you love me?"

Jason's hands flex on your ass, holding you tighter, and his voice is low, earnest when he says, "You know I do, baby. Love you so fuckin' much."

You lick your lips, eyes dark with want. "Then fuck me like you mean it."

His eyes flash—something feral, something wild, and before you can say anything else, he's moving, standing up with you in his arms like you weigh nothing before he lays you down on the couch, his jeans and boxers kicked off in one rough move. He kneels over you, hands already tugging your bra down until your tits spill out, and he doesn't even bother unclasping it before he's on you.

"Love these tits," he mutters between kisses, licking over one nipple, sucking it into his mouth before letting it go with a wet pop. His tongue flicks over the other, sharp and teasing, before he closes his lips around it, sucking hard until you gasp and arch into him. "So fuckin' pretty, baby. Could spend all day suckin' on these."

You tug at his hair, breathless, moaning when he drags his teeth over your nipple, just the right amount of rough. He leaves a trail of messy hickeys down the curve of your tits, marking you like the possessive asshole he is, and you swear your pussy gets even wetter from it.

He kisses down your stomach, hands already hooking into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down just enough to get access to you. "Love this body," he murmurs, licking over the waistband before kissing your hipbone. "Love this pussy. Love you, baby."

You whimper, spreading your legs instinctively, and he groans at the sight of your panties clinging to your soaked folds, the lace darkened with how wet you are. His fingers trace along the edge of the fabric, barely touching you, just enough to make your thighs twitch in frustration.

Then his tongue flicks out, teasing you through the fabric, just the lightest drag of warmth over your clit, and you jolt, hips twitching up, chasing more.

Jason hums, amused, as he pulls back, blowing cool air against the damp spot where his tongue just was. "So fuckin' wet for me already," he mutters, voice wrecked, his breath hot against your cunt.

His fingers slide down, pressing against the soaked lace, rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit, just enough to make you ache but not enough to satisfy.

Your hips stutter, desperate for more friction, but he doesn't give it to you. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his scruff scratching at your sensitive skin, and then, another flick of his tongue, this time firmer, tracing over your clit through the thin barrier of lace.

"Jay—" Your fingers tighten in his hair, trying to pull him closer, but he only chuckles, the vibrations making you tremble.

"You love this, don't you?" His voice is thick with hunger, fingers still rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit. "Love bein' all messy for me, panties soaked, beggin' for my mouth..."

He leans in again, dragging his tongue over you, pressing the fabric against your cunt, making it cling to every swollen, aching inch of you. Then his teeth close around the lace, tugging just enough to make you feel it before letting go.

Your thighs tremble, your body desperate for more, but he just keeps playing with you, running his tongue along the slick fabric, soaking it even more, his fingers pressing right against your entrance, but never giving you what you need.

"Jason—" you whimper, pushing up against his mouth, but he only smirks, pressing another teasing, barely-there kiss over your clit.

"Patience, pretty girl," he murmurs, eyes dark, voice rough.

He finally hooks a finger into the crotch of your panties, pulling them aside to bare you to him, and then his mouth is on you. Hot, wet, tongue sliding through your folds before fucking into you, slow and deep, licking you open like he's savoring every drop.

You moan his name, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his big hands grab your thighs and hold you open, spreading you wide like he's got all the time in the world to devour you.

"Keep 'em open, baby," he growls, voice muffled between your thighs. "Wanna see this pussy when I eat you."

He fucks you with his tongue, nose brushing against your clit, and every time you try to roll your hips or squirm away from the intensity, he holds you down and just keeps going, messy and obscene, spit and slick dripping down to the couch beneath you.

Jason groans into your pussy, the sound vibrating against your clit, and he sucks. Soft at first, just enough to make you gasp, before he latches on and really sucks, lips wrapped around that sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue flicking against it, over and over, relentless.

"F-Fuck—Jay—" Your voice is all breathy, wrecked, your fingers pulling at his hair, but it only spurs him on.

He hums again, mouth still latched to your clit, and then drags his tongue down, lapping at your folds, hot and messy and so deep you feel it in your gut. He groans like he's starving for you, like he could live off this alone, tongue pushing inside again, fucking you slow and deep before dragging up to swirl around your clit.

And then he does it again. And again. And again.

His hands squeeze at your thighs, holding you open, keeping you spread, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into your trembling skin, soothing even as his mouth drives you insane.

"You taste so fuckin' good, pretty girl," he rasps against your soaked cunt, his lips slick, his chin glistening with your arousal. "Could eat you for hours."

He presses a soft kiss right against your clit before flattening his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up your pussy, gathering every drop of slick before pushing his tongue back inside you.

You keen, legs twitching, and he groans into you, hands tightening, like he can feel you dripping for him.

"Goddamn, look at you," he mutters, breath hot against your cunt as he pulls back just enough to admire the mess he's making of you. "Drippin' down my fuckin' chin, baby—"

The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on you echo in the room, filthy and desperate, and all you can do is whimper and take it.

When he pulls back just enough to suck your clit into his mouth again your whole body jolts, and he hums in satisfaction, eyes locked on you as your mouth falls open on a gasp.

"C'mon, baby," he murmurs against you, every word vibrating against your skin. "Cum for me. Wanna taste you."

It hits you hard, your back arching, thighs trembling in his grip as you cry out, body clenching tight before it melts into pleasure. You swear you see stars, the intensity making your head spin, and he groans low in his throat as he licks you through it, sucking every drop you give him, cleaning you up with his tongue like a man fucking starving.

He doesn't stop until you're trembling, oversensitive and gasping for breath, your hands tugging weakly at his hair, begging for a break. When he finally pulls back, his mouth and chin are glistening, and he wipes his face with the back of his hand, grinning down at you like the devil himself.

"Goddamn, baby," he mutters. "Tastes even better when you're mad at me."

Jason flips you onto your stomach like you weigh nothing, handling you exactly the way you love—rough enough to remind you how much stronger he is, gentle enough to show he'll never actually hurt you. And you already know what he wants, so you arch your back, pushing up onto your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder with a bratty little smirk that makes his jaw clench.

His hands slide down your sides, slow, deliberate, before they settle on your hips, fingers digging in just to hear you gasp. Then he grabs the lace of your panties, tugging them down over your ass, baring your soaked cunt and the mess he already made between your thighs.

"Fuck," he mutters, palming your ass, squeezing and spreading you open to get a better look. "Always so fuckin' pretty back here."

The first slap lands sharp, making you jolt forward, your slick thighs trembling. The sting blooms hot across your skin, and you whimper, but it only makes you arch deeper, pushing your hips back toward him.

Jason watches, transfixed, as your pussy clenches around nothing, dripping slick onto his cock when he presses the thick head between your legs. He's still hard, precum leaking from the swollen tip, and you rock your hips, rubbing your soaked folds against him until he curses under his breath.

"Needy little thing," he grits out, guiding his cock to your entrance. "Can't even pretend you're not desperate for me."

He starts pushing in, splitting you open slow, and the stretch knocks the air from your lungs, leaving you trembling under him. "Oh, fuck—"

"Always so fuckin' tight for me," Jason groans, one hand stroking down your stomach, feeling the way your body stretches to take him. His fingers slip lower, over your clit, slick and swollen, and you shiver all over when he rubs slow circles over it. "Goddamn, baby."

You rock back, taking him deeper, moaning as your pussy clenches down hard around him. He curses, leaning over you, chest pressed to your back, and murmurs low in your ear, "You want me to fuck you like I mean it, huh?"

You nod frantically, words catching in your throat, and Jason groans, pulling back just enough to grab your hips, steadying you before sliding in deeper, bottoming out with one slow, brutal thrust.

He gives you a second, like he always does, letting you adjust because he knows he's big, knows he's a lot, and he loves you too much to hurt you.

But you're impatient, your body burning with need, so you glance back over your shoulder, panting, "Thought you said you loved me."

His jaw tightens, a flush spreading down his chest, and he growls, "I do."

"Then fucking prove it," you challenge, and that's it, the last frayed thread of his self control snaps.

Jason's hips slam into yours, driving his cock so deep you see stars, and you cry out, fingers scrambling for purchase against the cushions. His hands grip your waist, holding you still so all you can do is take it, body jerking with each brutal thrust, wet sounds filling the room every time his cock splits you open.

Your cunt grips him like a vice, soaked and clenching around him, dragging him back in every time he pulls out, and the slick slide is so obscene, so messy, it only makes him fuck you harder. His hips snap against your ass, the slap of skin on skin echoing, and you bury your face in your arms, moaning his name like a prayer.

"Still wanna fucking die, you idiot?" you gasp between moans, glaring at him over your shoulder, and Jason groans, dropping one hand to slap your ass again.

"Shut up," he pants, driving in deep enough to knock the air out of you. "God, baby—you're so fuckin' wet for me."

"Because you're—you're so fucking stupid," you sob, half scolding, half moaning. "What if—what if you get yourself killed, and who the fuck's gonna fuck me like this?"

"Jesus Christ," Jason groans, the filthy confession sending a sharp pulse of heat straight to his cock, making it throb inside you. "No one, baby, no one else is ever gonna touch this pussy."

He fucks you harder, deeper, grinding into you until you're shaking under him, toes curling, nails clawing at the couch. Every thrust punches little gasps from your throat, and you can't stop talking, can't stop scolding him even as he's fucking you stupid.

"You love me?" you pant, voice high and breathless.

"Love you so much, baby," he groans, leaning over you, lips against your ear. "Love you, love this body, love this perfect fuckin' pussy. All mine, baby. All fuckin' mine."

"Show me," you whisper, voice shaking. "Show me how much."

Jason's hips snap forward, hard enough to drive you into the couch, and you moan his name, cunt squeezing tight around him. "I'll show you, doll," he pants, sweat dripping down his back. "I'll show you exactly how much."

His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, spreading your ass, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks tomorrow, and you'll love every fucking one of them. Each thrust is brutal, his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy, so slick with arousal and his precum that it drips down your thighs, making a mess.

"Look at this greedy fuckin' pussy," he groans, thumbs spreading you open wider just so he can watch. "Suckin' me in like you missed this dick."

"I did," you gasp, fingers clutching at the couch cushions. "But you're still a fucking idiot."

Jason grits his teeth, hips snapping forward hard enough to shove you up the couch, your knees scraping against the fabric. Your slick little cunt grips him tight, soft and warm and soaked inside, milking his cock every time he drags back just to slam back in. Precum leaks from the swollen tip, mixing with your slick, and every thrust pushes it deeper, making you feel so full you can barely breathe.

The couch creaks under both of you, the whole thing rocking with the force of his thrusts, and Jason can't tear his eyes away from the way your ass bounces every time his hips smack into you. Your skin glows, sweat slick and gorgeous, and he can see the way his dick stretches you open, disappearing into your perfect pussy over and over again.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, almost to himself. "You're perfect. This pussy's fuckin' perfect."

"Damn right it is," you pant, pushing back against him until you're stuffed full all over again. "And if you get yourself killed, who the fuck is supposed to fuck me like this?"

That ticks him off just right this time. His hand shoots out, grabbing the back of your neck, not to hurt, but to hold, to control, and he hauls you upright, your back pressed flush to his broad chest. You gasp, legs shaking, the stretch of his cock inside you deeper, hitting that sweet spot that makes you cry out.

"Who said I was goin' anywhere?" he growls against your ear, hand sliding up from your neck to wrap gently around your throat. "You think I'd leave you, baby? Fuck no."

His other hand finds your tits, fingers tugging at the bra you still hadn't taken off, yanking the cups down completely so your soft skin spills into his hand. He palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, and you moan loud, head tipping back onto his shoulder.

"You love me?" you whisper, breath hitching with every thrust.

"You know I do," he pants, fucking up into you, hips rolling slow but deep, stuffing you so full you swear you can feel him in your throat.

"Then fucking show me," you challenge, rocking your hips down to meet him.

Jason groans, fingers tightening on your throat just a little, enough to make your cunt flutter around him. "I am," he mutters, mouth hot on your neck. "Fuckin' you so good no one else could ever touch you—no one else could make you this wet, this fuckin' messy."

He shoves you back down, face to the cushions, ass in the air, spreading you wide so he can see everything. Especially the way your slick pussy stretches around him, sucking him back in every time he pulls out, shiny with your wetness and his precum.

"Fuckin' shit, baby," he groans, watching his cock slide in and out of your perfect little pussy. "You're fuckin' drippin'."

"Because you're that good, asshole," you snap back, voice muffled by the cushions.

Jason slaps your ass hard enough to make you jolt, cunt squeezing down on him so tight his vision blurs for a second. "Yeah? Then why the fuck you talkin' so much?"

"Because you're a fucking idiot," you sob, back arching when he drives in deep. "You don't—you don't need to start shit every time someone looks at me, Jay. You're the only one who gets to fuck me like this, don't you know that?"

Jason groans, hands tightening on your hips as he slams into you harder, hips snapping, driving you into the couch so deep your knees nearly buckle.

"I know, doll," he pants, voice wrecked. "I know, fuck—I just love you so much, I can't stand anyone else even lookin' at you."

"Then—then fuck me harder," you gasp, tears in your eyes from how good he feels, how perfectly his thick cock fills you up, dragging against every sweet spot inside you. "Fuck me so good I can't even think about anyone else."

Jason yanks you up again, your back flush to his sweat slick chest, his cock buried so deep you swear you feel him in your fucking lungs. His big hand cups your jaw, turning your face toward him, and he kisses you messy, tongue sliding between your parted lips like he's starving for the taste of you. It's sloppy, wet, both of you panting into each other's mouths, sucking on tongues, biting at lips.

You moan into his mouth when his free hand finds your clit, two fingers rubbing sharp, relentless circles over the sensitive little bud. It's too much, too fast, your cunt already stretched wide and soaked around him, every rub of his fingers making you clench down tighter.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, breath hot against your cheek, hips snapping up into you so hard you bounce. "You're so fuckin' wet—you're drippin' all over my dick."

His fingers don't slow down, and you can't do anything but take it, legs shaking, cunt squeezing around him, your swollen clit throbbing under his ruthless touch. The heat coils low in your belly, sharp and fast, climbing so high so fast it almost scares you.

"Jay—fuck—wait, I—"

Your hand flies down, grabbing at his wrist, trying to ease him off your overstimulated clit, but he's not budging, the muscle in his forearm flexing as he presses down harder.

"No," he growls into your ear, voice wrecked. "You wanted me to fuck you like I mean it? This is what that fuckin' means, baby."

His dick pounds into you mercilessly, every thrust dragging against your sweetest spot, thick and hot and leaking inside you, smearing precum along your fluttering walls. You're soaking him, so slick you can hear the obscene squelch every time he sinks in to the hilt as he rubs your puffy little clit.

Your whole body locks up, spine arching, mouth falling open as you cum so hard it knocks the breath out of you, that sharp edge of pleasure tipping you into freefall. Your pussy clamps down on his cock, tight and trembling, and Jason fucking moans, jaw clenched, hips stuttering as you soak his dick with wave after wave of hot, slick arousal.

But he doesn't stop.

"Gimme more," he pants, fingers ruthless on your clit. "C'mon, baby, you can do it, show me how messy you can get."

"Jason, I—fuck—fuck—"

Your thighs quake, eyes rolling back, and when he starts to slap over your clit lightly, it hits like a live wire—your whole body seizes, cunt pulsing around him, and then it happens.

You fucking squirt, hot and sudden, a slick rush spilling from your cunt, drenching both of you in a messy gush that soaks the couch, his thighs, your thighs—every inch of skin that's pressed together—leaving your pussy glistening, clenching around his dick as your juices drip down to the cushions. It's a mess you didn't even know you could make, and Jason loses it.

You both knew you could squirt when you were drunk off your ass, but this? This was all him. And you're both wrecked with it—you, boneless and trembling, him, harder than fucking steel inside you, completely gone for you.

"Holy fuck, baby," he groans, voice somewhere between awe and pure hunger.

Your whole body shakes, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer intensity, overstimulated to the point of pain tinged pleasure, and Jason kisses you through it, swallowing your sobs and moans right from your tongue.

It's still so messy—hot, wet, open mouthed, tongues licking into each other's mouths, tasting sweat and spit and you, and he groans deep in his chest like you're the best thing he's ever had.

His cock keeps sliding into your soaked, fluttering cunt, so slick it's almost effortless, but you're still so tight, sucking him in greedily. His fingers finally ease off your clit, stroking instead of circling, soothing instead of torturing, but his kiss stays just as hungry. Desperate like he's trying to memorize your taste, the way you moan into his mouth when you can barely even catch your breath.

"Baby," he murmurs between kisses, breathless and tender and filthy all at once. "You're so fuckin' good for me. Love this pussy—love you."

Jason's lips break from yours, sliding down your jaw, over the curve of your throat, hot breath ghosting over your pulse before his mouth seals against your neck. He sucks hard, tongue flicking over the skin, leaving a bruising, sloppy mark.

And the whole time, his hips keep working, dragging his thick cock in and out of your soaked, swollen cunt, slow but deep, hitting every spot that makes your toes curl.

"Fuck, Jay—" you whimper, head tilting to give him more of your neck, hands clutching at his wrists, his arms, anywhere you can reach to steady yourself.

He hums low in his throat, all smug and wicked, and you can feel him smirk against your skin. "You want my cum, baby?"

You moan loud, nodding so fast it makes him chuckle.

"Of course you do," he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, kissing his way up to your ear. "This needy little pussy loves my cum, huh?"

"Yes," you gasp, writhing against him, trying to push back and take him deeper, to make him give it to you.

But he just teases, slowing his thrusts, dragging every inch out before pushing back in so slowly, letting you feel just how thick and hot he is inside you. "Thought you were mad at me, pretty girl."

"I am," you snap, but it's breathless, your earlier fire softened by the way he's fucking you so deep and slow, pulling every sound he loves right out of your throat.

"Yeah?" he smirks, tongue licking over your racing pulse. "Then why should I cum inside this perfect little pussy if you're still so fuckin' mad?"

"Jason—" you whine, pushing back harder, but his hand holds you steady, thumb pressing into your hip, controlling the pace no matter how desperate you are.

"Gotta convince me, baby," he taunts, voice all low and syrupy sweet, fingers sliding down to your clit just to flick it, making you jolt and clench down hard on his cock. "Why should I fill you up, huh? Gimme one good reason."

"Because I need it," you gasp, fingers clawing at the couch cushions. "Need you to cum inside me, need to feel it—fuck—please, Jay."

"Need it?" He grins against your neck, biting just hard enough to make you yelp. "Sounds like my girl's not so mad after all."

"I am—"

"No, you're not," he cuts you off, fucking into you a little faster, just to hear the pitch of your voice climb. "You just like actin' tough until you're full of my dick, huh?"

You nod frantically, pride shredded, nothing left but raw, aching need. "Yes—yes—God, yes—please, Jay."

"Please, what?" His cock drags against your sweet spot with every thrust, his fingers circling your clit again, faster this time. "Say it, baby. Tell me exactly what you want."

"Want you to cum inside me," you sob, back arching, thighs trembling. "Want to feel it dripping out—want to be so fucking full of you, Jay, please—"

That does it. His grip tightens as he snaps his hips forward, fucking you deep, no more teasing, just hard, filthy thrusts, skin slapping skin, his cock driving into your slick little cunt until the wet noises echo louder than your breathless moans.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, forehead pressing to your shoulder. "Gonna give it to you, gonna fill this perfect pussy up."

You moan his name like a prayer, clenching down so hard it makes him stutter, and then he's gone, hips jerking, cock throbbing deep inside you as he spills, hot and thick, cum flooding your pussy in pulse after pulse after pulse.

It's so much—the heat of it, the way his dick twitches inside you with every spurt, and fuck, you feel everything. The way his cock pulses, the way his cum paints your insides, so deep, so full, your body reacts before you even realize, pleasure slamming through you again, white hot and all consuming.

"Oh—fuck—fuck—"

Your whole body trembles, seizing up as you arch, as your walls clamp down hard around his dick, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge again, even sharper this time.

Jason groans, choked and wrecked, because he feels it. The way your pussy flutters, grips him like a vice, milking him, dragging out his orgasm as another thick pulse of cum spurts deep inside you.

"Shit, pretty girl—fuck—"

His voice is hoarse, breathless, hands locking onto your hips as he bucks up, rutting into you with slow, desperate rolls, like he's trying to fuck his cum deeper.

You're soaking him, your release gushing around his dick, slick dripping down to his balls, making everything filthy as you keen, breath hitching, body trembling. The pleasure is so much you can't stop shaking, can't stop gasping, every little twitch of his cock sending more sparks crackling through your limbs.

Jason groans again, deep and raw, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you right where he wants you, his cock still buried inside, still throbbing, even as his hips slow, his whole body shuddering against yours.

"Jesus Christ, baby—" He swallows hard, head falling forward against your shoulder, voice thick, half slurred. "Damn near killed me."

But he doesn't let go. He won't. His arms curl around you, holding you close, keeping you locked against him, cock still nestled deep, even as his cum drips out, thick and hot, making a mess between your thighs.

You both shudder, your pussy milking him for everything, his cock twitching, still so sensitive it makes him groan low in his throat as he grinds against you, lazy and slow. You're so full you leak around him, creamy slick dripping down his balls, sticky and hot, smearing where your thighs press together.

It's messy, obscene, perfect, and he loves every second of it.

He kisses your shoulder, still panting, his hand sliding up your stomach to cup your tits, lazy fingers playing with one nipple. "Still mad, baby?"

"Maybe," you mumble, face buried in the crook of his neck, completely fucked stupid.

Jason's laugh rumbles low in his chest, warm and rough and just so him, his lips pressing to your temple in a lazy, affectionate kiss. "You're a terrible liar, doll."

His cock slips free from your fluttering cunt with a slick, obscene noise, your pussy clenching reflexively at the sudden emptiness, already missing him even with his cum still leaking from your swollen slit. It smears down your inner thighs, dripping onto the couch cushion below, and Jason watches it like a man obsessed, fingers tracing over the slick mess he made of you before finally easing you down against him.

You whine, soft and spent, but you don't fight it when he turns you gently, pulling your smaller body right on top of his, the perfect little puzzle piece to his broad, muscular frame. Your skin feels like it's buzzing, every inch of you overstimulated and tender, but his hands are so gentle.

Big palms soothing up and down your back, warm fingers tracing lazy circles along your spine. His lips find your temple again, softer this time, and the two of you just breathe, hearts still pounding, somehow falling into the same steady rhythm.

You nuzzle into his neck, breath warm against his skin, and for a while, the only sound is both of you catching your breath, bodies molding together.

After a long, quiet moment, Jason's voice breaks the silence—rough, hesitant. "I'm sorry."

You blink up at him, your face blissed-out and sleepy, limbs heavy, but you still reach up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing gently over the scar there. His hand comes up to cover yours, his palm dwarfing yours as he lifts it to his mouth, kissing your palm, his lips warm and soft.

"I'm sorry too," you murmur, voice soft, but Jason just shakes his head.

"Nah," he says, eyes flicking up to the ceiling like it's easier to talk to that than to you. "It was my fault. I just..." he trails off, breath hitching slightly, and for a rare moment, Jason Todd looks nervous.

You wait, patient and quiet, until he finally sighs, his grip on your hand tightening just a bit. "I never had this kind of love before," he says, voice so low you almost miss it. "Ever."

Your heart aches, and you squeeze his hand back, silently urging him to keep going.

"And yeah, I don't—I don't know how to behave sometimes," he admits, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "I know it's wrong to be so fuckin' possessive. To assume you're mine just because I want you to be."

"Baby," you whisper, brow furrowing, but he keeps talking, like he has to get it all out before he loses his nerve.

"It's selfish and stupid," he says, frustrated with himself. "But I just... I never felt this way about anyone before. And it's fuckin' terrifyin', but it's also the best goddamn thing that's ever happened to me."

Your chest aches, soft and warm and so full of love for this man who's only ever known how to fight for what he wants, and now he's fighting himself, just to figure out how to love you right.

You tilt his chin until he's looking at you again, your eyes wide and soft and just a little stunned, because yeah, Jason's softer with you, you know that. But this? This vulnerability, this naked honesty, this is rare. This is the part of him no one gets to see.

"What are you talking about, baby?" you whisper, thumb tracing his lower lip. "I'm yours. You don't have to doubt that."

His eyes darken, something vulnerable flickering beneath the heat. "Yeah, but—"

"No 'but'," you cut him off, leaning down to kiss him—soft, sweet, no heat this time, just love. "I am yours, Jay. You don't own me, but I belong to you. And that's my choice."

His arms tighten around you, almost crushing you to his chest, but you don't complain. You just melt into it, letting him hold you like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers if he lets go.

And yeah, maybe your pussy's still throbbing, and there's cum dripping down your thighs, and you both reek of sweat and sex, but right now? Right now, all that matters is this.

You shift slightly on top of him, just enough to press your lips to his chest—soft, lingering, right over his heart. It's steady beneath your mouth, a quiet, strong beat that reminds you he's here. And you hold onto that, breathing him in as you kiss him again, even softer this time.

Jason's hand slides up your back, fingers weaving into your hair as he cups the back of your head, guiding you up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. It's so gentle, so sweet, and your chest aches all over again, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

"I'm sorry I said I want you to change for me," you murmur, voice quiet and a little hoarse. "I didn't mean it like that. I just..." you sigh, fingers tracing idle patterns over his ribs. "I knew what I was getting into when we first met. I knew. And I thought that over time, it would be easier to just... I don't know... get used to the idea that one day you might not come home."

His hand tightens slightly in your hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he's listening.

"But it's not," you whisper, voice cracking slightly.

"I know," he says softly, his lips finding your temple again.

You exhale, shaky and uneven, and your voice wavers when you say, "I just want you to promise you'll always come back to me. I can't lose you, Jason. You're the only person in my life I've ever loved like this, and I just... I can't—"

The words catch in your throat, and you almost sniffle, but Jason's already there, tilting your chin up until you meet his gaze. And fuck, the way he looks at you—like you're everything, like you hung the goddamn moon—it almost breaks you.

He can't stand seeing you cry. Not like this. Crying because he fucks you stupid? Sure, any day of the week. But crying because you're scared of losing him? That kills him a little.

His thumb strokes along your cheek, brushing away the tears threatening to spill. "I promise, doll," he says, voice low and steady and so fucking sincere it hurts. "I'll always come back to you."

You nod, swallowing hard before you nuzzle back into the crook of his neck, letting his warmth wrap around you like a shield. His arms tighten around you again, holding you like you're his lifeline. And maybe you are.

And yeah, there's still mess between your thighs, and the couch probably needs to be burned after what you just did to it, but none of that matters right now. All that matters is this. Just you and Jason, skin to skin, hearts pounding in sync, holding onto each other like the world outside doesn't exist.

After a quick cleanup—you both do what you can with the poor couch, but honestly, there's only so much scrubbing that'll save it—you end up in the shower together, lazily soaping each other up with that vanilla body wash you love. Jason grumbles about how it's too sweet and not him, but the second you press your slick, warm body against his under the spray, he shuts up real fast.

Wrapped in clean clothes, smelling like dessert, you curl up on the couch, freshly dressed in one of his worn out t-shirts that hangs off your shoulder and a pair of cotton panties. Jason settles next to you in his sweats, bare chested, all warm skin and ink as you tangle yourself around him like the needy gremlin you are.

A box of shitty pizza rests between you—a sad, greasy excuse for a meal, but somehow perfect for tonight—and some trash reality show plays in the background, the kind that makes you both question humanity.

Jason glances at you, his arm stretched around your shoulders, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. "So... we good?"

You roll your eyes, groaning dramatically, before leaning over to chomp a massive bite out of his slice, despite the fact you're already holding your own.

"You little brat," he mutters, shaking his head, but there's no real heat in it. If anything, the way he smiles at you—soft, warm, a little exasperated—makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

You just flash him a smug grin, mouth full of stolen pizza, and lean your head on his shoulder, sighing happily. "We're good, Jay."

And yeah, the couch will never be the same, and the pizza's objectively terrible, and the show's giving you both secondhand embarrassment. But with you curled into him, his arm wrapped around your waist, and your bare leg hooked over his thigh, Jason figures he might just be the luckiest motherfucker in Gotham.

[wiltedfang]

just best friends

summary: Carl goes looking for you, his best friend, after a tense afternoon in Alexandria. The problem? Neither of them is willing to admit what's actually bothering them.

a/n: first serious post or something like that! i write in Spanish and the content is translated into English. i appreciate your reposts or comments; my questions are open and I love receiving them. please feel free to correct me if there are any grammatical errors;)

content warnings: Part 1?, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, Dixon!reader, Carl Grimes x Reader, friends to lovers, mutual pining, jealousy, oblivious teenagers, slow burn, Alexandria era, pre-Saviors timeline, awkward flirting, emotional constipation, fluff with angst, no outbreak spoilers beyond Alexandria. I think that's all?

—

Carl walked through the woods with a tight feeling in his chest, each step more cautious than the last as he kept a hand on the gun tucked into his pocket.

His eyes scanned the trees around him, jaw clenched, searching for something that might already be too far away to find.

You.

His best friend.

Getting used to Alexandria had been difficult for everyone, especially you and your dad. Neither of you trusted all the comfort the place offered, and neither of you felt like you belonged there. Carl already had his own opinions about the people in the community, but he'd only ever shared them with his father.

Rick had told you and Carl that meeting other kids your age would be good for you.

That was how the two of you ended up in Ron's room with him, his friend Mikey, and his girlfriend, Enid.

Everything went pretty much the way they expected.

Carl spent most of the afternoon playing video games with Ron and Mikey while you looked completely uninterested in being there.

The truth was a little different.

The moment Carl walked into the room and saw Enid, he froze.

Ever since the prison fell, he hadn't met another girl besides you.

To Carl, she had simply caught his attention.

To you, it was a lot less simple.

It was uncomfortable enough having to shove your so-called best friend just to get him to stop staring.

After that afternoon, the two of you left the Andersons' house.

Carl hadn't seen you since.

But he knew exactly where you'd be.

Now he was making his way through the woods, looking for any sign that you hadn't gone too far.

You were so damn much like Daryl.

Always disappearing without saying a word.

As Carl replayed the scene in Ron's room over and over again—the way your expression had tightened before the two of you went your separate ways—he barely had time to react when something shot past him, missing him by inches.

An arrow.

Of course Daryl had taught you how to use that thing.

The arrow buried itself into a tree right in front of him, making him jump before spinning around.

"Can you stop following me? You're way too loud."

Your voice echoed through the trees.

Carl looked up, finally realizing where it was coming from.

How the hell did you get up there?

Then again, he didn't really need an explanation.

You were a Dixon.

"What? I wasn't following you, I just..." He sighed. "What are you doing out here? It's dangerous."

His voice came out shakier than he would've liked.

"I don't need some little sheriff looking after me."

Carl's expression faltered slightly.

He adjusted his hat and glanced down at the ground.

"I just didn't want you out here alone."

"So you were worried about me?"

"I didn't say that. I mean... it's not that I wasn't..." He groaned. "Can we just go back before it gets dark, please?"

His tone sounded almost pleading.

He wasn't afraid of the woods.

He knew both of you could take care of yourselves.

He just hoped Alexandria wouldn't make you soft like the people living inside it.

You'd both survived too much to let that happen.

Still, Carl preferred knowing you were safe behind the walls.

There wasn't any reason to keep taking risks.

"Oh, so are you excited to see if there are any more girls to drool over? Want to introduce me some?"

Damn it. Your mouth has always worked faster than your mind.

Carl frowned, adjusting his hat again and resting his free hand on his hip.

Every day he looked more and more like his father.

"I wasn't drooling."

"I think you were."

"I looked at her for five seconds."

"It felt like five hours."

"...Then why were you paying attention to how long I was looking?"

Silence.

You clenched your jaw and looked away with a heavy sigh.

"Forget it, Carl. You can go back on your own."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, frowning. "Is this about Enid? Relax. I'm not gonna replace you with that girl. Now can you get down from there?"

Eventually, you jumped from the tree, still unconvinced.

You adjusted the strap of your crossbow over your shoulder and narrowed your eyes as you stepped toward him.

Your dad always made the thing look lighter.

"Whatever, Grimes. This isn't about your new friend. She barely even talks to you."

You yanked the arrow from the tree and wrapped your hand around it before turning away and heading back the way Carl had come.

It didn't take him long to follow.

The two of you walked without saying another word.

Every now and then, Carl glanced over at you and pressed his lips together, trying to figure out how to start.

But things always ended the same way.

The two of you would grit your teeth and keep moving forward.

Neither of you ever knew just how much the other one cared.

That silence felt heavier on nights like this.

When you stood on the porch of the house you shared with Daryl and Carol, stealing glances toward the Grimes' house while trying to get used to those unfamiliar walls.

That silence was going to kill you someday.

What if neither of them found the courage to make the first move?

What if someone else came along who wasn't afraid of what might happen?

Carl only thought about that kind of thing when he sat on the porch of the house he shared with Rick, Michonne, and Judith

Only when he caught himself looking over at you.

Only when the two of you pretended not to notice each other until one of you finally went inside because the silence had become too much to bear.

Just best friends.

[orieriee]

What the Wind Left, What the Rumors Kept | DilucxReader

Summary: Rumors travel rather quickly here in Mondstadt, especially through taverns as famous as the Angel’s share. A certain runaway lady has been the main interest of topic as of lately. A lady wielding a vision and are often seen fighting off the treasure hoarders and hilichurls on the streets of Mondstadt. Purposely running into Darknight Hero on his nightly patrols was meant to be a simple curiosity and definitely not a rivalry... Right?

Disclaimer: enemies to lovers, reader is from Fontaine, yearning Diluc, slight angst, slow burn one shot, as always english isn't my first language so pardon me. Cross-posted on AO3!

Rumors travel rather quickly here in Mondstadt, especially through taverns as famous as the Angel’s share.

Well, it is hardly surprising, given that there are always people that come in and go at all times, loose tongues from civilians, knights, adventurers, and even bards all gathered under one roof. And Diluc, had grown accustomed to filtering the truth from some baseless rumors, sorting through information from meaningless gossip, and knowing when to ignore when it is hardly significant. He had little interest in them. But every now and then, a rumor would make its way that catches his attention.

But it is definitely not one that came from the mouth of Kaeya Alberich when he's drinking. He had the tendency of adding his own extra little flair when he's telling a story to Diluc. To which Diluc never understands and probably never will.

“A runaway noblewoman,” Kaeya had said casually one evening, swirling his wine on one of his hands, “Apparently she ran away from her family all the way from Fontaine.”

Diluc had barely looked up from polishing a glass.

“But not just a regular noblewoman. From what I've heard, the merchants passing through the city swore they've seen her driving off treasure hoarders and hilichurls on the road.” Kaeya tilted his head slightly, a glint of amusement in his eye, “And I've heard she'll be staying in Mondstadt for quite some time. Makes you wonder why you think she fled Fontaine in the first place, eh?”

Diluc didn't look up from what he was doing and continued to polish another glass after he put the clean one carefully on the side, clearly uninterested in whatever Kaeya was saying.

Kaeya sighed dramatically, “You wound me Diluc. And here I thought tales of a scandalous noble runaway would interest you.”

“I fail to see why it should.” Diluc’s expression remains indifferent.

Kaeya leaned in lazily against the counter, swirling his wine as if he had nothing better to do than to provoke his brother.

“You truly have no curiosity at all?”

Kaeya chuckled, “A noble daughter abandoning her aristocratic life to roam the countryside and more so with a skilled swordsmanship. Quite impressive, really. And from what I've heard from a few people, she even fled from her own engagement.”

Diluc raised a brow, though his expression remained unmoved, “Nobles running away from their responsibilities to Mondstadt is not uncommon.”

He resumed polishing another glass. Kaeya chuckled softly.

“You're terribly cynical, Diluc.” he said as he gulped down the last drop of his drink, “Still, I have a feeling you'll meet her eventually. And if you happen to cross paths with this mysterious runaway during one of your nightly… excursions, do try to be polite. She is still a lady after all.”

And as if Kaeya had a hand in it, their paths crossed as if fate was helping him to make his predictions come true. Diluc moved swiftly through the darkness doing his Darknight hero duties as per usual. But when the sound of steel clashing against something burst across the alley, he was surprised to see someone already fighting. And that someone had ended the fight as he got to the scene.

“You know,” you looked to the place he's been ‘hiding’, “It's rather rude to watch from the shadows.”

He stepped forward to reveal himself under the moonlight.

“You’re late to the party.” you said.

“I was simply observing.” he replied, his tone indifferent.

“That sounds suspiciously like an excuse,” you hummed, “Since the situation is already handled, I suppose there’s no need for you to continue watching.”

Diluc frowned slightly. You've already turned your back at him.

“... You're leaving?”

“Did you want me to stay?” You looked over your shoulder, a quick step onto the nearest crate then another, you jumped upward and suddenly you were already halfway up from Diluc. Your cloak fell down your head, revealing your face under the moonlight.

Diluc has only briefly heard about the descriptions of your physical appearance mostly from the adventurers and merchants that stopped by his tavern occasionally. But the moment he saw you, he knew you were the topic of the recent rumors about a runaway noble lady fleeing her engagement from Fontaine and coming all the way to Mondstadt.

Miss Y/N L/N.

Your eyes gleamed with amusement as you glanced back down at him, “If you feel left out, do try to arrive earlier next time.”

And before Diluc could respond, you had vanished over the top balcony. He shifted his gaze toward the scattered remains of the Abyss creatures. So the rumors were true after all, the runaway noblewoman was a skilled fighter. And if tonight’s encounter was any indication, she was going to be far more troublesome than what the rumors suggested.

It became a routine at some point. You always seemed to arrive and solve the problem before he even got there. He occasionally caught glimpses of your glowing [your vision name] Vision leaving from the corner of his eyes after he arrived at the crime scene. Sometimes, he arrived just as the fight was ending like the first time he encountered you.

For someone who held no official duty to protect Mondstadt, you certainly do like to intervene. You have a habit of appearing exactly where you shouldn’t, stepping into matters he’s already handling as if you have every right to be there. He doesn’t ask for help, doesn’t want it, and most certainly doesn’t need yours. At least, that’s what he tells himself. You move too fast, speak too freely, and refuse to back down even when he tells you to leave. And at some point it became a competition neither of you agreed to, yet refused to let the other win.

Who gets there first, who finishes it cleaner, and who proves the other wrong.

Until one day you just didn't show up. Not the next. And not even the day after that.

At first he assumes you've finally learned your place. It should be a relief after all your constant meddling, now that you’ve chosen to stay out of it for once. It should make things a lot easier. It does, technically. But yet somehow, Diluc found himself expecting to see you there whenever he patrols. Enough that he started to look around just to catch a glimpse of you, eventually. Not because he is concerned, no, he would never. He would never admit that he is, because unfinished matters have a way to become a problem one day. At least that's what he told himself for these last few days.

When he saw you again, it wasn't how he had expected it to be. He had expected you to be there before him like usual, always waiting and ready to tease him for being late once more. Not the sight of you lying barely conscious, blood pooling under your body while you remained unmoving. He could feel his blood run cold as he approached you. For a moment it doesn't make any sense. You were supposed to be someone that was difficult to keep up with and even harder to pin down. How did you end up like that? Why? And who or what did this to you?

The moment you regained your consciousness, the ceiling above you was unfamiliar. Your side ached faintly, though the sharp pain is more manageable now. You can feel the bandages that wrap around your body as you try to move. The scent of grapes drifted through the room.

Diluc had brought you to Dawn Winery to get your wounds treated. The staff told you it was “Master Diluc” who took care of you when you've been unconscious for days and have a high fever. Yet when you're well enough to walk around, you couldn’t find a single trace of him. It was like he purposely left you there, without so much as a single inquiry after your condition.

Diluc had spent days trying to make it make sense. It might have been easier to believe that he simply did not care. Was it the sight of your almost lifeless body that terrified him? Or was it because he's not oblivious to how naturally he had come to expect you whenever he's out on patrol? Or perhaps it was something far less reasonable that he refused to name yet?

Because whatever the reason, it was clear that he chose to keep his distance. Not because you were his rival but because he understood all too well what it would mean if he had stayed by your side to witness your recovery.

Still, he has his staff to report your conditions back to him while he keeps his distance. How your wounds have been healing, how you've been eating and sleeping, how your complexion seems better as day went by, and how you're insisting in helping the maids out to cure your boredom even though they have tried to warn you not to do anything, lest your injuries worsen.

But there were moments where he considered breaking that distance just to check on you with his own eyes. There was a particular kind of frustration in knowing that you were just behind a door down the corridor, a turn that he refused to take. Because he understands, perhaps better than most, how easily attachment could become a weakness. His weakness. Because once he crossed that door to see you and allow himself even a single moment of honesty, he knew there's no way he could pretend that this was nothing.

“You know, you're not very good at staying out of sight.”

The sharp sound of glass shattering cut through the tavern, drawing a few glances but he paid them no mind. You have decided to pay him a surprise visit one day when you're well enough to come to Mondstadt on your own. He had not expected you to come to Angel’s tavern yourself.

“You shouldn't be out yet.” Diluc said as he cleaned the pieces of broken glasses after it slipped out of his hand.

“Is that concern I hear?” you chuckled a bit, teasing him has always been a routine of yours whenever you see him out on patrol.

“The doctor said your ribs aren't fully healed yet. Try breathing without pain if you decided you're recovered.” he grunted, looking at your side.

“...” In turn you only stared at him and blinked. His facial expression shifted to a confused one, trying to guess what you were thinking.

“You seem pretty well-informed for someone who couldn't be bothered to visit.”

“I was informed.” His gaze sharpened.

“Ah,” you hummed, “So you were concerned.”

“... Don't misunderstand.” he sighed.

“I think Kaeya’s right. You're not really the honest type when it comes to feelings.” you tried to suppress a chuckle, “Besides, I couldn't leave without thanking you for saving my life.”

He knew you were now well enough to leave Dawn Winery. He needed to face you, confirm himself there was nothing and be done with it. Because that was what this was, wasn't it? The ending of your encounter, neatly wrapped in gratitude. You were staying in Mondstadt for a while, doesn't mean you're staying here forever.

So why then he had hoped that you were going to stay a little longer?

You were simply… A traveler. A runaway noblewoman was never meant to remain anywhere for long, she still has a whole world lay wide before her, waiting to be explored. You were not made to stay. To ask otherwise would be… Foolish. And he was not a man given to foolishness.

So he let your gratitude stand as it was. Even if for the briefest moment he found himself wondering what it might have been like had you have chosen to stay. After all, the world was wide enough that your paths might never cross again. But yet, not so wide to dismiss the possibility entirely.

“You may leave as you wish.” he said quietly, “But should you ever feel like returning… there will always be a place here that welcomes you.”

Bonus story:

"Oh but I'll still be staying in Mondstadt." you smiled cheekily, "I meant leaving your Dawn Winery. I don’t want to start a rumor that Master Diluc, Mondstadt's most sought after bachelor secretly shelters a mysterious woman. Rumors travel more quickly here in Mondstadt, don't you agree?"

“...and it seems that you are awfully interested in my reputation.” Diluc who had only connected the dots can't help but frown at the teasing. Although the tip of his ears can't really lie.

[m-c-gee]

Freedom

Matt Murdock x afab!reader

Summary: Every Friday evening, Matt has had his senses on high alert walking into Josie's. He's been looking for a sign, waiting for a moment to slip into your life. Now's his chance.

Warnings: smut (18+), oral afab receiving, servicetop!matt, unprotected sex, fingering, yearning!matt, friends to lovers, flirting, slight fluff slight angst, little bit of breeding kink, brief mentions of marriage

Author's note: This is my first attempt at smut, hope you all enjoy the Matt POV smut/fluff/angst!

Foggy had met you first, telling Matt and Karen about you when he got back to the office. He said you were "neat" and joked that Matt wasn't allowed to ruin things at Josie's for them by "philandering" with you. Matt had laughed it off and hadn't given it another thought until he stepped up to the bar with Foggy later that week.

He felt a shiver roll up his spine and his hair stood on end when he first heard your voice asking their order. Sweet and smooth, sliding its way between his ears in a way that made the world feel hazy. His tongue peeked out over his lips to wet them and begin speaking, desperately prompting any response you could give so he could hear more, but then he tasted your scent on the air-- warm and sweet and perfect. His grip around his cane tightened. Foggy's hand nudging his arm knocked Matt out of his thoughts. He hadn't heard the question. Maybe she was asking his name?

"Matthew. Nice to meet you," came tumbling out of his mouth.

"I just introduced you! Get with the program! She asked what you're drinking," Foggy teased.

Matt didn't have time to be embarrassed. He was too focused on how your mouth drew into a grin as you spoke.

"Well, Matthew, what are you thinking?" A genuine smile remained on your face. He forced himself to order a beer before he could be honest.

He tried to ignore the quick heartbeat battering against his chest, apparently trying to take away any social skills he ever developed. Shaking himself out of it to attempt to clear his mind, he tried to turn on his usual charm.

"So how long have you been in Hell's Kitchen?" he questioned.

"Just a couple weeks! I moved from Jersey to come help Josie out," you replied.

"How do you know Josie?" Matt pressed, tilting his head to the side so he could let every syllable soak in.

"Josie is my aunt. She needs a little more help now to keep the bar going, and I'm a bartender, so it worked out for both of us," you smiled. Of course you had to be kind. Like being this attractive wasn't enough. Obviously he had no idea what you looked like, but to him, your rich scent, the quiet sound of your hair brushing around your neck and shoulders, the soft rustle of your shirt against your back as you poured his beer... you were about to take up a considerable amount of his brain power for the foreseeable future.

"Well, Hell's Kitchen is lucky to have someone so considerate," Matt said in a low voice.

Your heart slightly skipped as the sultry sound washed over you. There it is. He didn't want to push too quickly, but his mind started to race with all the things he could say. "What are your plans tomorrow evening?" or even "When do you get off tonight?"

"I won't take all the credit." You laughed heartily. Matt could die happy having heard the sound. "My boyfriend also got a job here, so that was definitely part of the decision to move." Matt could just die.

A tight smile rose to his face as he nodded and considered this information. Why wouldn't you have a partner? You could have your choice of anyone you wanted. Now that he could think a little less eagerly, he realized he could smell your scent mixed with a man's. He wished he couldn't notice.

But you did have a reaction to his comment-- and he had barely dipped into flirting territory. Now that he thought about it, the scent of your pheromones was barely in the air. Not as attracted to him as he would've hoped. Yet, still, he allowed himself to think of the possibilities. After all, you were committed to someone else, likely too good of a person to let yourself feel true attraction towards him. He could work with this. He could wait. Lord, grant me patience.

Now, eight months later, he was used to seeing you at Josie's with Foggy and Karen to celebrate winning a case or just relax after a long day. You had even been out a few times with them all outside of work. Your affect on Matt never diminished, though he leaned into the calming aspects so he wouldn't go insane. Time spent around you was a balm on Matt's battered soul. Although he wasn't nearly as close to you as he wanted, he reveled in each new piece of information he learned about your life and bided his time until he heard about a change in your relationship status.

Now, walking into Josie's with his hand tucked under Foggy's arm, Matt reminded himself that he ultimately values just having you close, even if that means he has to close so many thoughts away to remain your friend.

His head perked up as he got closer to the bar. You smell different. Salt. Blood flushing your cheeks. Had you been crying? It was all faint, maybe a couple nights ago. It must not have been noticeable otherwise because Foggy didn't hesitate to greet you as usual. Matt lingered while Foggy headed over to a table.

"How have you been?" he asked, listening carefully for clues for the cause of your pain.

"Livin' the dream, you?" you said, avoiding a real answer.

"I take it something happened. Would you like to tell me? I'm all ears," he offered.

He listened to you considered him for a moment and glance towards the door to make sure no customers were walking in.

"I've been better... Rob and I broke up. He lost his job here and is going to move back to Jersey," you said quietly. He tried not to let his heart soar out of his chest. You were his friend and might need support. Now was not the time to make a move. He hoped his glasses hid his gleaming eyes.

"You didn't want to move back with him?"

"We haven't been as close since we moved here. It's been a long time coming honestly. We agreed it would be best for us both to move on," you admitted. Matt noticed you didn't seem that upset. As you handed him his drink, he took it with one hand but brushed your forearm gently with the other. He felt your skin prickle under his fingertips.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," he started. He couldn't say he was sorry about the breakup, never wanted to lie to you. "Is there anything I can do?"

"That's okay. I kind of can't wait to get off tonight, just want to relax," you confessed.

Now there's something Matt could help with.

"When does your shift end? I have ice cream in my freezer calling your name if you'd like to talk more," he offered hopefully. Your heart sped up minutely, so he continued. "There's also a bottle of wine ready if that was closer to what you had in mind."

You laughed and Matt felt his wildest dreams falling into place. "Sure, I know Karen and Foggy will want to hear too. We might need more than one bottle between us," you joked.

"Then there definitely won't be enough ice cream either. Maybe it could just be us tonight?" he asked. He felt the air shift as your breathing picked up. It gave him the confidence to offer more.

"Let me know when your shift is over. We can walk to my place and start getting you relaxed." You shivered and Matt drew in a deep breathe to let the first tastes of your arousal fall over his tongue. He felt his cock twitch in his slacks.

You agreed through a shy smile. He forced himself to walk away from you for the time being. He missed more shots than he would've like in the pool game with Karen, unable to let his senses settle away from you.

As your key locked the front door of Josie's, Matt slipped his hand under your arm and you began walking so you could guide him back to his apartment. He might actually need your help. He felt like he could get lost in all the thoughts surfacing in his mind. He wouldn't push anything tonight, of course, if you truly just wanted to vent. Your friendship was so much more to him than lust. You deserved to be wined and dined.

On the other hand, he knew he could make you more relaxed than anything or anyone else if you let him. Matt already knew you well and what you needed now was to work out the tension in your body. No ice cream or wine would ever come close to soothing you the way he could with his hands, mouth, anything you wanted. Maybe she'll let me help her again later.

Matt tried to focus on giving the correct directions to his apartment. Your laughter floated over him and he was grounded back into the moment. The warmth from your side radiating through his hand and the wafts of your shampoo coming from your soft hair made his heart ache with the depth of his feelings.

You walked close to him the entire time. Closer than necessary to guide him. Matt could feel the exhaustion in your posture fighting with the hints of arousal that built as you got closer to his apartment. He tried to keep the conversation light, but noticed that his voice was consistently making you grow warmer under his touch.

As he began unlocking his front door, he made sure to give you options. "So ice cream, wine, or something else first?"

"Something else?" you laughed halfheartedly, unsure of his meaning while he let you in the front door.

"Just if there's anything else I can do tonight," Matt said with a little shrug, voice the slightest bit strained, "let me know." He started helping you out of your coat, and his knuckles slowly brushed down the sides of your arms. He stood close behind you, warm breath hitting the back of your neck as it was revealed.

"I could... help you take your mind off things." he said, feeling every word affect you.

When he heard your cunt clench around nothing, his self-control was drawn to a hair-thin line.

"Is there... anything?" he asked hoarsely, rubbing one hand around your shoulders as he hung up your coat. "I can feel how tense you are. I could help if you'll let me."

You turned quickly on your heels, hands landing on his shoulders and gripping his dress shirt. The first scent of your wetness in the air hit him and Matt couldn't wait anymore.

His large hand came up to cup your cheek, the other pulling you even closer by your waist. Soft and heated, his lips met yours with fervor. Not messy, but with passion and devotion. He had the whole night to get you exactly where he wanted, exactly where you deserved.

His hand on your waist creeped around your back, completely holding your body against his. You gasped when you felt his dick throb between you, enough to feel through several layers of clothing. He took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, lightly licking your bottom lip and into your mouth. Matt moaned quietly when he swallowed, the taste of you dripping down his throat.

Your body responded as you instinctually lifted your leg up around his waist. If you wanted to move this quickly, Matt would never hinder you. This was the only cue he needed to slide his arm down below your ass and lift you up onto his hips. This set you against each other perfectly, and he heard the first soft moan from your sweet lips. Bringing these sounds out of her might be my purpose.

The combined sound of your and Matt's hearts were thundering in his ears, the easy slide of your mouths against each other made him feel drunk, and the fact that it was finally you made him savor the moment.

He broke the kiss to take off his glasses and set them down, then drag his lips down your jaw, lightly licking below your ear and tasting the salt of your skin. When he felt you unsatisfyingly trying to grind against the front of his body for some friction, he was reminded that his task tonight was to take care of you, help you relax and forget about the fool that could ever let you go.

"Please let me take you to bed, sweetheart. I want you to be comfortable," he begged, pulling his face back slightly so you could look at him. Though you had briefly seen him without his glasses a few times while he was relaxing, rubbing his eyes after a long day in court, he could tell that seeing him so closely without any barrier had an effect on you. You paused and your heart skipped wildly before you replied.

"Yes, yes," you said breathily, starting to unhook your legs from around his hips. He brought both hands down to hold your legs tighter against him.

"I've got you. Let me do everything. Let me help you," he whispered kindly. His nose rubbed against yours gently, unable to give you too much distance. You nodded and your arms tightened around his shoulders as you leaned down to start kissing his neck. Your lips burned against his skin and the tiny brush of your tongue set him on fire. Matt suddenly thought that the wall might suffice for tonight, but ultimately decided to start walking.

He knew you must have been as lost as he was. You never seemed curious whatsoever at his perfect navigation to the bed without his cane.

When he neared the bed, he set you down gently, one knee on the edge so he was bent over you. You tensed up, just slightly, but enough for him to pause any progress. He kissed your cheek, then your shoulder and down your arm until he held your cool hand gently in his. He tenderly ran his lips over your knuckles, stubble slightly scraping it as he rubbed his cheek against it.

"We don't have to do anything else, if you just want to kiss?" He listened carefully for your answer.

"I just-- I'm not sure what you want." You looked away and hesitated. Matt's chest ached at your selflessness, both touched that you were thinking of his feelings and disappointed in whatever string of experiences led to you thinking you needed to do anything in this situation.

"I want to make you feel good. Whether that's talking or walking you home now or we keep going. As long as you're feeling happy, I'm feeling happy," he promised.

"You're such a good friend, I'm scared this will change things between us."

Matt tried not to let his mind linger on the "friend" label. He could change that later.

Holding your hand tighter and moving hair away from your face, he spoke carefully, "I care so much about you. Stopping here will never make me see you differently. You can forget this ever happened if it's too much, but I think you want this too. This offer will always be on the table, but you deserve it tonight. Please, don't overthink it, let me take the lead."

Your body relaxed as he spoke, and you huffed out a laugh. "I don't think I can turn my brain off like that."

"I can help with that too." Matt whispered into your lips as he kissed you with all the softness he was capable of. "Lie back, I can take us from here. All you need to do is breathe."

With your shoulders finally loosening, he began by running his hands down the sides of your thighs. He dropped to his knees on the floor and took each shoe off, rubbing your ankles slightly to alleviate the stiffness he felt after a long day of work. He worked his warm hands up each leg, massaging your calves and kissing your knee.

You were definitely enjoying this treatment, your eyes occasionally fluttering shut when he worked on a sore spot. Matt didn't know where this all would lead, if he'd have the chance to be inside you, but he certainly couldn't let your back muscles go untouched in case that's what you wanted. Eating you out was definitive in his plan, but the rest up to whatever seemed to make you moan the loudest.

Focus. Matt unknotted his tie and unbuttoned his collar, then rose up and carefully rolled you onto your stomach, pulling your hair to the side and making sure you were comfortable. Your hips neared the edge of the bed, and your toes rested comfortably on the floor as he stood between your legs.

He used his senses to the utmost precision to massage your back, giving heavy pressure after you let out a delicious sigh from the first pass over your spine. He guided each arm up to remove your shirt, and unclasped your bra before sliding it away. After several minutes of ensuring you were in the shape he wanted, his hands drifted down to the top of your ass.

He gently palmed each cheek in his hands, massaging them too. He felt more warmth rush to your face and smirked. His fingers hooked in the sides of your waistband and he slowly pulled your pants down your legs. Your heartbeat picked up, but you certainly weren't cautious of continuing based on the wetness growing between your thighs.

He slid your pants and socks off your body, and ran each hands back up your thighs and over the slope of your ass. He leaned down to kiss the back of your neck, licking there when he felt you melt into his touch.

He kissed down each vertebrae, giving a silent prayer of thanks for each bone that supported your body. The body which housed a soul he treasured beyond words. Matt hoped you felt his ministrations there; not as touches to your skin, but reverence towards your very existence.

His kisses reached the base of your spine, and he slowly slid your underwear down and off your body. You were completely exposed to him now, all soft wanting skin and his to care for. He kneeled again, eye level with your center.

Matt couldn't believe he was allowed such a privilege: to taste the fruits of his labor. He breathed in deeply and had to shut his eyes to keep a respectful pace. His hands rubbed each cheek, gently spreading to make room for him. He leaned forward and licked a slow, confident stripe from your clit up. He swallowed greedily, and the rest of the world fell away.

He placed his tongue flat against your clit and licked in broad circles, getting used to the silk softness of your folds. You let out a small whimper and Matt felt his dick leaking into his pants. He moved closer, nuzzling into you and letting his strong nose brush against your hole.

This made you clench again, and the sensory experience was too much for Matt to not jerk his hips against the bed. The combination of your long-awaited taste, addicting softness, searing heat, and encouraging breaths was too much to endure without some kind of stimulation.

He paid close attention to the twitching of every muscle fiber to find the exact pressure and pattern that you preferred. Alternating between kissing over your sweet cunt and laving his tongue around your clit, he already felt you building towards your first orgasm. Full moans were slipping out of your throat now, hands reaching to fist at his sheets. You were getting worked up faster than he expected. His was flattered but didn't want to force an orgasm out of you too quickly. Instead, he moved his tongue up to circle your entrance, dipping in slightly and feeling your welcoming reaction. He pushed his tongue in deeper, pulling in and out to keep giving you pleasure without bringing you closer to the edge.

Your hole slowly loosened around his tongue, getting used to the slick slide of him. You let out a particularly helpless sound and Matt decided not to make you wait any longer.

He shifted his hands to grip right where your thighs met your ass on either side, giving him better leverage to keep you in place and make room for his face to slot in. After he returned to lap at your clit more quickly, he was glad he had more control over your movements as you started to barely grind your hips over his face.

Matt didn't want you to give one ounce of effort towards seeking your pleasure tonight, and so he moved his head as close to you as he could, putting more pressure on your clit and grinding his nose against your leaking hole. He shook and nodded his head, keeping his tongue flat against you. You put him in absolute heaven as you reached your peak, legs shaking in his grip, clit twitching under his tongue as he continued through your high. The cries that left you were permanently burned into his memory, leaving a scar of absolute satisfaction that he could finally make you feel the way you needed.

Your body was relaxed into the bed, but not completely loose yet. He was honestly grateful that one orgasm wasn't enough. It gave him more opportunity to show you how capable of a lover he could be. Though your continued friendship was a guarantee, he couldn't help but see tonight as his chance to prove himself more useful as your lover.

"That was so good. So good, sweetheart," he encouraged.

Your wetness was spread all over his face and he wished the scent could remain indefinitely, marking him in a way only he could perceive. The thought of it made him groan as he licked two fingers before running them between your folds to ease the lazy slide.

The sound you made when the tips of his fingers circled around your cunt confirmed his plans to continue. One finger slid in with no resistance, already stretched slightly from his tongue. After feeling your walls adapt, he slowly added another finger that fit snugly inside.

Christ, she's going to need a lot of work if she wants me to fuck her. And so he began on his unrushed mission to ever so gently help you stretch around his fingers. He bent his fingertips towards your stomach and you let out another breathy moan.

"Oh my God, Matt. Please keep doing that," you pleaded. While these instructions were music to his ears, he wished he could tell her that he knew every intricate detail of what felt best for her without any prompt or encouragement. He never found a great opportunity to tell you about his abilities. He had far too much ground to cover to secure you as his partner before he could consider revealing his secrets to you. Scaring you off with his "hobby" is too big a threat to risk.

With pinpoint precision, Matt massaged inside you and felt you tighten around his fingers. The pressure you put on them made his cock ache with need, and he used his other hand to unbutton his shirt and open his pants. His heavy dick appreciated the extra room, far too eager to get one layer closer to your perfect heat.

After your second orgasm, he would assess how you were feeling and consider fucking you. His cock desperately wanted to be a part of melting your brain, but Matt was already beyond satisfied with the progress he's made with your relationship with him tonight. He didn't push his luck too far by assuring himself he'd get to come tonight. He'd spend a thousand uncomfortable nights trying to calm down and sleep if it meant you trusted him to help you come.

Already primed from your first orgasm, Matt felt you twitching around his fingers already. He slid his other hand down to thumb at your sensitive clit, spiking your pleasure.

"You're doing so good, baby. You gonna give me another one?" He said in a husky voice. "Let me feel you again, we're almost there."

You came harder with the stimulation from both his hands, back arching and hips shaking around his fingers. Your high pitched moan signaled his success as you absolutely melted into the bed. Reducing you to a panting mess, Matt slowed his fingers inside you to a stop as he gripped the base of his cock through his underwear. Your scent was everywhere. His face was branded with your wetness and he wished for a way to mark you as definitively in your world. He wanted to mark you everywhere, stay around you like a shadow so every person with sight would find you together and know that he took care of your every need.

He pulled his fingers away from you and cleaned them off with his mouth. He stood and crawled over you, not putting too much weight as you were still breathing heavily. A kiss against your ear as a beacon to come back to him, open your eyes and see his wet face and messy hair.

Instead, your eyes stayed closed, but instinctually turned your head to kiss him with an open mouth. Tasting yourself, licking into his mouth, Matt had never felt more aroused.

He scooped you into his arms, rolled over, and held your boneless body against his chest. Your blushing cheek heated his shoulder as you panted against his neck.

"How are you feeling?" he asked while petting your hair.

"Fantastic. You're right, I can barely think now," you joked.

"I'm glad," Matt replied with a kiss to your head. He wanted to give you a break at least. Your body was capable of more orgasms, but at this point, it was difficult to tell if you wanted more. You could still speak, which meant he hadn't gotten you exactly where he wanted tonight, but he didn't want to go too far.

He ran his hands over your hair and back, enjoying the smell of you so blissed out. You moved your hip up to wrap your leg around his side, and his dick moved straight between your legs.

Now that opened your eyes.

Matt tapped into his willpower to stop himself from grinding his bulge up into you, already feeling your wetness seeping through the remaining layer and onto his tip. But he didn't need to, your hips began moving eagerly over him.

"Hey, you don't have to do anything for me, okay? If you want to come again I can use my mouth or hands," he stated, but your hips grinded against his erection more persistently, drawing a groan from his chest.

"I want it though, if you do. I want to feel you closer," you explained with your head raised to get a good look at his face.

"Yeah?" He considered it. Whatever you wanted from him, he was willing to give. If this was your request, who was he to deny you? He could feel your honesty. "Okay, I gotta get you ready a little more though."

"How much more ready can I get?" You asked incredulously, wondering what else was necessary.

"Shh," he kissed you. "just a little bit, okay?"

"Please just take your clothes off."

"Anything you wish," Matt chuckled.

He slid off his shoes and socks, then stood and pushed down his slacks. Your hand reached out to brush over his tip through his boxers and Matt took a deep panting breath, catching your wrist in his hand and leaning down to press a kiss to it. His other hand pulled his underwear down, huge cock hanging between you.

He smelled a rush of desire, combined with slight anxiety, rush over you. Matt wasn't fictionally large, but was certainly well-endowed with a thickness that made the need for more preparation obvious. His heavy balls resting against his thighs urged him to keep going, trusting his senses that you still wanted to continue as well.

"I won't let anything hurt you. I'll use my hands a little bit more and I'll be so gentle, honey," He swore as he climbed over you. He captured your lips in a sweet kiss.

You turned the kiss filthy, grabbing the back of his neck and scratching your fingers through his dark hair. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your slick center rubbed along the length of him.

If Matt's eyes worked, he would've seen stars.

"Please hurry," you requested. He didn't hesitate to press a kiss to your lips appreciately and reach down to slide two fingers inside you again. They still fit tightly, and so when you began moaning again from the presses inside you, Matt started to spread his fingers slightly.

The warmth of your skin drew him in and he lowered his hips so that his cock brushed the inside of your thigh. He just needed a little stimulation to tide him over. You moaned louder at the feeling and only his iron-clad self control helped him to just stutter his hips against you when he felt you clench around his fingers instead of fully grinding into your soft skin.

You loosened up quickly and Matt started to let himself imagine what it may feel like to actually be inside you. The silk of you against his fingers and dripping wetness made them slide in so easily. The tight clenching when you reached your peak almost pulled them further in. He grit his teeth and leaned down to kiss across your shoulder.

"Matt, c'mon I'm ready. Stop stalling," you teased. He heard the smirk on your face in your breathless voice.

"You'll thank me later," he smiled, sliding his fingers out and picking you up under your hips and back to lay you gently on the pillows. One hand moved up to spread your hair gently across his pillow, hoping it would leave a deep scent in the fabric. A momento to remember this feeling more accurately.

He started to reach over to grab a condom and you put your hand on his face to turn his attention back to you.

"I'm on birth control so... I don't need one if you don't need one."

He needed to be inside you fucking immediately.

Still, with determination, he paced himself and took a moment to place his hands at the sides of your face. All the noise of Hell's Kitchen, stress of the courtroom and of Daredevil faded away. He found solace in bringing you a moment of respite in such a grueling world. The value you brought to his life was indescribable. Not every conversation with you was easy, and you weren't always happy, but every time he was around you, a weight was lifted off his shoulders. If any stress were to be caused from you, it would be incomparably worth it.

Your hands wrapped around his back and neck, and he positioned your hips and legs to his liking, wrapping them around his waist. He kissed your lips, forehead, each cheek, and nose before he spoke.

"I'm gonna go slow, I want to help you finish again," he said before reaching down to wet himself with some spit and guide his thick tip inside you.

You were so relaxed and ready for him that the initial slide was easy before you gripped him tightly. He stopped instantly and took inventory of the signals your body was giving. None of your other muscles tensed, you weren't in pain. He felt a tiny amount of your wetness spill out around him. He dropped down to a forearm and kissed you deeply. He bit your lip gently, so carefully, and he felt you relax around him again after the coaxing.

You started to roll your hips up against him, taking him deeper, and his hand flew down to grip onto your hip tightly. He was already panting.

"Take it easy, sweetie. I'll get you there again, no need to rush," he reassured you.

He felt himself twitch inside, desperately wanting to bury himself in the deepest part of you. Your body was sending every signal that you would take everything he wanted to give, but he still chose to give you the kindest, most loving version of himself he could offer.

The rest of him slid in gradually between warm kisses that slid across your lips and neck. When his hips finally laid flush against you, he let out a contended sigh, almost forgetting that this was only the beginning, his work wasn't yet done. He was left staggered at the sensation of you so close and surrounding him completely. Your golden, glowing soul connected to his battered one in a way he only dared to hope for. What a fucking privilege.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, resting his forehead against yours.

"So good, Matt, oh my god. So full."

That got his hips moving. It was so easy now to thrust in and out of you. The pride he felt at preparing you so well for him made his balls tighten. That train of thought was immediately ended because he needed to last so much fucking longer than this.

He sat up and gripped onto your hips, fucking you on his cock until he found the perfect placement that made your mouth drop open and moan. His balls slapped against your body with every thrust, growing wet from your previous releases. He kept at that spot inside you incessantly until he felt the familiar signs of your incoming orgasm.

"You're doing so good for me, I can't believe how you feel, baby. Thank you-- thank you for letting me be with you. I'm gonna help you finish again, okay? Just relax and let me fuck you through it," he rasped out.

He reached down and started brushing his thumb against your clit. The pressure you put around his dick was mesmerizing. This was exactly, precisely how he wanted this night to go. You've had an impact on him for months, since you first met, and he could only pray he had any affect on you before tonight.

Your moans pitched up and he knew he only had a few seconds longer to make this as good as possible for you. He'd make you feel so good you couldn't think of trying to sleep with anyone else. You were already good friends, all he needed now was the romantic piece and he could have all of you. Sex with you was certainly intimate, you had natural chemistry, and anything that felt this good must be part of a deeper connection.

"I'm close too, sweetheart. Just let go, I'll do everything." Then he remembered, "Fuck, where do you want me to finish?"

Your legs tightened around his hips, not letting him pull his sensitive cock out more than a couple inches. He let out a deep groan, tucked one hand under your lower back, and the other underneath your neck where his thick fingers could grab the hair at the nape of your neck to get control of your head and keep his lips hovering over yours.

Your legs started to tremble and he thought of how he would take care of you this same way on your wedding night. You'd feel so soft in your dress, smell so content from crying happy tears at being his mate for life. He'd get several orgasms out of you both that night. Mrs. Murdock would deserve his utmost devoted service.

His mind drifted to a future night when you would once again ask him to avoid using a condom, ask him for it raw. You'd press your heels into his back and he'd fill you completely with his release. There would be no protection, no birth control, no second thoughts from either of you because he'd be fucking his child into you. You'd be begging him to make you a mom and he would kiss you a thousand times to thank you for making him a dad.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come. Please, Matty," you said between loud moans. He growled and held you tighter against his muscular body. His hips rutted into you wildly, desperately searching for your climax while on the edge of his own.

When your nails on his back dug in, walls closing tightly around him, whole body shaking perfectly, he managed three more thrusts before he pushed as deep as he could to come with you. His balls tightened and he felt every drop of his seed being pumped into you, moaning with you and rubbing your slick lips against his.

Matt came for what felt like forever. He couldn't stop the twitching of his cock inside you, and the smell of your combined orgasms was driving him even higher. Your lips kissed his when he was finally able to stop moaning, and Matt felt a sense of completeness he never dared to feel before.

You both stayed like that for several long moments, enjoying the aftershocks and kissing breathlessly. You were utterly pliant beneath his heavy weight and Matt knew he had accomplished what he set out to do. He'd give you this night a million times over when you choose him as your partner.

"That was amazing. Thank you so much, honey. You're relaxed now, yeah?" He asked more to hear you speak again than to confirm a fact he already knew.

"I've never felt so good in my life," you laughed and his face broke out in a proud smile. He pulled out slowly and went to grab a towel.

"I'll do it all again any time you want. Say the word and I'll be there," he promised. You laughed again, but it didn't ring as true as it should have. His face morphed into one of confusion as he grabbed you a cup of water too.

Does she think I'm joking?

Surely, you would want this again. He broke you down with expertise only he could have, and he would continue to perfect his craft every opportunity he got with you.

He smiled and brought you the water, helping you sit up while he gently wiped away the mess between your legs. The combined smell of you both leaking from your body comforted his worried mind. You asked him not to use a condom, let him come inside, came three times. You'd open the door to him again sometime-- you had to.

But fucking you again wasn't the greatest of his worries. He needed your lust to turn into love. Sure, you were happy when he was around and undeniably attracted to him, but he hadn't had a chance to make things romantic with you yet.

He put the water on the nightstand and climbed into bed, laying on his side to face you and hold you close. He rubbed your back and your hair for several minutes, a comfortable silence falling between you. Matt was confident that you would accept his romantic advances, he just needed to make sure.

And so he asked, listening closely, "Will you let me take you out to breakfast tomorrow?"

"I should probably head back to my place soon, thanks though."

Matt was in disbelief. Not just no date, no sleeping with him tonight too.

"You can get ready for bed here. I have extra supplies, I know you didn't bring anything." He held onto you a little tighter.

"You're a busy guy. I don't want to mess with your schedule," you said with a little laugh. You were being honest, still relaxed and soaking up contact with him. Nothing had gone wrong, but something still wasn't clicking. Where on earth had you gotten the idea that he wanted you to leave? If you'd asked to move in now, he'd leave you in bed and bring in all of your belongings himself.

"Tomorrow's Saturday. I don't have work. No schedule," he stated hopefully.

"Yeah, but you need to go out tonight, right?" Matt had never been more confused.

"Out where?"

"Is crime low tonight or something?" you joked.

Matt's heart stopped. What the fuck. You knew? How? Since when? What do you think about it? His mind continued to race until he settled on another question just to make sure.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not gonna go out and be the Devil tonight?" you clarified, still holding him and rubbing your cheek against his neck.

"You-- how do you know about that?" he asked, feeling panicked. He still held you close, sensing the signals better from your body like this, but he was losing his mind while you seemed... nonchalant.

"Um, you told me, like six months ago."

Not a lie. Matt racked his brain for when this could've happened. He was terrified of your reaction to his identity, when would he have told you that he couldn't remember?

"What did I tell you? Where were we?" He tried to calm his wild heartbeat and reminded himself that you had only grown closer since then and you certainly didn't seem concerned about the Devil now.

"When you and Foggy stayed until the bar closed and we all got falafel after because you were completely wasted. Karen picked up Foggy, and I helped you home. You weren't using your cane. You said I smelled like I was about to get a cold. I asked how you were doing that stuff and you told me you're Daredevil." Your voice sounded fond and unstressed. "I didn't believe you at first so I just laughed it off, but I've seen your knuckles bruised more times than I can count, and you pick up on things no one else can. You definitely fuck like no one else can, Jesus, Matt."

Matt relished in the last statement and let the rest of the information sink in. He remembered the falafel, and how sick he felt the next morning, and that was about it. He figured Karen got him home. Christ, this is what he deserves for getting blackout in his 30's.

"And how do you... feel about me being Daredevil?" He asked, wishing so badly that he could remember your initial reaction.

"How do I feel? Fine, I guess." You giggled. "I mean I don't like how beat up you get sometimes, but I figure you know what you're doing out there. You never talked about it again, so I assumed you wanted privacy. Didn't want to bring up a sore spot."

This was so much easier than Matt had ever imagined. Your reaction wasn't even on the list of ones he was expecting. It made him even more grateful for you.

"Well, I'm not going out tonight. I want to sleep here with you."

"I can't make you do that. I'll head out." You started untangling yourself from him. He gripped onto you tighter.

"Please don't. You're not making me do anything, I want to stay here with you," he pleaded.

"Tonight was amazing, thank you, seriously. I just don't want to get in the way of Daredevil stuff, even if you're just sleeping tonight. You need the rest. I don't want to take up more of your time at all."

Matt sat up on one arm to lean slightly over you and say firmly, "I want you to take up as much of my time as possible for as long as you want. Stay."

You didn't respond right away this time. This was not going how Matt wanted anymore.

"If you mean sleeping together in the future, I'm definitely open, but I don't think it should be a regular thing for us." you explained.

"I mean more than sleeping together. I want to date you."

"I can't do that," you said carefully. "I'n not... not interested, but I don't really see room for me in your life."

Matt felt like there was a gaping hole in his life waiting for you to fill. It would fit you perfectly.

You continued, "I know how busy you are just being a lawyer with a new practice. Adding Daredevil on top of that, keeping up with your friends, going to Mass, and having to take cook and sleep and everything else. There's no time for a girlfriend."

"I'd make time for you."

"You barely have time for what you do now. I'd hate myself if I took you away from any of those things."

"I want you more. I'll limit Daredevil to the weekends." He said, almost ready to start begging.

"You should be sleeping then anyway. I'm sleeping when you're out, right? Look, I like you how you are right now, Matt. You'd have to change to be with me. I can't let you do that, even if it's what you think you want. I'll still be friends with you, obviously, but I really have to go now," you decided, getting up and putting your clothes back on.

Matt was in shock. He thought the biggest hurdle would be getting you to be interested romantically. You already do, but you just won't date him. He knew you were right about his schedule, but he was so determined to fit you in. He was so busy, yet he desperately needed you more involved in his life.

You were almost done getting dressed when Matt snapped out of it and grabbed some clothes from his dresser so he could walk you home. Forcing you to stay wasn't a good option, but he definitely thought about it.

You walked over to him as he finished slipping into his clothes. Your soft hand came up to rest against his cheek, and he stopped to let you look at him.

"Please don't look so miserable, Matt. I'm saying this because I care so much; I don't want you spreading yourself too thin." You paused for a moment and he couldn't find the right words to say. "Thank you for tonight." You said as you kissed him sweetly.

Walking you home was non-negotiable at this hour, but you didn't fight him on it too much. You seemed to know how much he needed to spend just a few more minutes with you so it didn't feel like you were completely leaving him. You were still friends, you liked tonight, you were open to dating. He just needed to convince you that there was place ready for you with him.

Matt could wait longer. He had been waiting for so long already. The goal was just within his reach. He could be patient, and continue being your friend until he had another chance.

Your impression on him was permanent; there was no looking back from falling for you. He would wait as long as it took to help you do the same.