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jinwoosbabyboo · 2 days ago

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The First Meet Self-Aware!Caleb

Caleb always talked about how he would he would show you around SkyHaven when you got there. It was never an 'if' with him it was always a 'when'. Perhaps that should've been your first red flag, but when you have feelings for someone those red flags look a little pink A/N: I was chillin' in the N109Zone while I wrote this. Sylus rubbed my feet and brought me food. pt. 1 here

“Just give me some time….”

What did he mean by that? The memory of the way his voice shook and how it seemed like he was talking more to himself rather than you — haunted you endlessly. You spent your days on edge, looking over your shoulder, tossing and turning in your sleep and waking up out of breath. You were never able to use your phone again after that it just wouldn’t turn back on. You spun the new device in your hand flipping it over to see the new phone case you purchased for it.

Apples.

“Well thanks for the new phone Caleb” You mumbled to yourself, setting it aside on your desk before sitting down to get to work. Part of you missed playing Love and Deepspace, but you couldn’t bring yourself to download the app again after what happened with Caleb. For months you had managed to fall for that pixelated man only for it to end the way that it did. You still had no clue what he meant by ‘Give me some time’ but it gave you chills nonetheless.

“Hey!” You jumped at the sound of Camerons voice aka your work bestie. “What?” The word rushed out of you. She stared down at you with a concerned look “I’ve been trying to get your attention I called your name at least ten times” You blinked rapidly as you looked around trying to gather your scattered thoughts. You hadn't realized you were spacing out “I’m sorry I was just trying to get this finished by end of day” You smoothed out your shirt and turned to face your friend “What's up?” Just when you thought it would be bad news you watched as a saccharine grin spread across her face. “Somebody had these delivered” She pulled a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind her back and gently placed them in your lap. “Just for you”

Your whole face lit up as you looked down at the gorgeous flowers. No one has ever gifted you flowers before. The gesture almost made you combust just from staring at them. Carefully picking them up, you took a long sniff relishing in the floral notes that filled your senses. After getting a good sniff you quickly searched the flowers for a card to see who your secret admirer could be.

‘𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐��𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑷𝒊𝒑-𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒂𝒌 ♡ ͏𝑰 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 -𝑪 ’

Your heart dropped to your ass in an instant; it can’t be Caleb he’s not real. You sprang to your feet letting the flowers fall to the floor — petals broke away from the stems as you kicked it away. The room grew blurry as your lungs constricted and your heart pounded like a drum in your ears. The last thing you saw was your friend reaching for you before you were suddenly counting the ceiling lights. Cameron shook you by your shoulders trying to get you to breathe properly. “What was in those flowers!? What did you do? Should I call 911?” She wasn’t speaking to you she was looking over her shoulder — who's she talking to? Please don’t let it be your boss that lady is strict enough as it is. She’ll have you head on a stick if she finds out you passed out on the clock.

“No I'll take it from here” A tall looming shadow stood over you; his face came into view as he leaned down and cupped your cheek in his hand. “Let’s go home pipsqueak you don’t look so well” Caleb? But how? You wanted to flinch away from his touch or get up and scramble away from him but your body was so heavy. “Ca…Caleb” It was so hard to speak your words coming out slurred as you continued to become even dizzier. “How?…..” His smile was blurry but his voice was clear "I take it you missed me considering this phone case"

The world seemed to be going by in flashes. First you were on the floor and next you were in someones arms and now you’re watching flashes of light pass by as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “Get some rest” A gentle hand rubbed small circles on your back willing you to sleep. The heavy weight of sleep outweighed your will to stay awake.

You were groggy as you rolled over and instinctively snuggled into your pillow. You wanted to go back to sleep, but the smell of breakfast had your stomach growling. Breakfast? You sat up in a panic looking around the foreign room. This was not your room and this was not your city. Fumbling out of bed you somehow managed to wrap your feet up in the sheets falling to the floor with a hard thud “Fuck that hurt” just then you heard heavy footsteps heading your way. Terror set in as you tried to untangle yourself from the blankets as the footsteps grew closer. “Come on come on come on” you begged the sheets that seemed to continuously grip onto your legs. “You can’t be serious” You whisper-yelled to yourself.

The room door opens softly and there stands Caleb with a look of worry. “What happened?” He rushes to your side and tries to help untangle you. “Caleb!?” Your eyes are practically bulging out of your head staring at the man in front of you. You wriggle and flail only making things worse “Hold still!” Caleb pins you in place with his evol as he unwraps your lower half from the sheets and blanket. “There. All done” He meets your stare and gives you those same puppy dog eyes that you remember all too well.

“W-where am I?” It took everything in you to keep from cowering into the corner. You knew there was no point in trying to run since he could quite literally pin you in place. He beamed as he gestured towards the floor to ceiling window “Welcome to SkyHaven I hope you enjoy your stay” He said with a wink. Your lips curled into an angry frown while your eyes ping ponged between the view and him. “What? Are you not happy to see me?”

“I don’t understand how I'm seeing you” You rolled your shoulder to try and quell the pain radiating from it. There will definitely be some bruising or at least some soreness later. “That’s classified information Pip-squeak” Before you could ask anymore questions Caleb pulled you to your feet like you weigh nothing. You looked up at him almost entranced by how handsome he is. You shook your head and snatched your hands from his. “Don’t give me that bullshit excuse! Take me home!”

He tilted his head and reached a hand out to caress your cheek “You are home” Although he had the warmest smile and lovestruck eyes; you couldn't help, but feel like a bucket of ice water was thrown on you. You stared dumbfounded; words escaping you.

Say something. Say something!

“I have to leave soon but I wanted to share a meal with you before then” That's when you noticed he was dressed in his colonel uniform — damn he looked so good too, but you refused to tell him that.

Suddenly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out the door. You tripped over your own feet trying to keep up with his long strides. “I can walk on my own Caleb let go” You yanked at his grip and surprisingly he let go — only for him to swiftly sweep you off your feet and carry you bridal style into the dining room. He gently placed you in a chair and sauntered off to the kitchen returning with your favorite juice, a glass of water, and scallion pancakes. You stared at your plate not sure if you’re happy or pissed.

“I didn’t poison it so stop poutin’ and eat before it gets cold” You glanced at Caleb who occupied the seat next to you. He sat in a relaxed position with his head resting in his palm; studying you intently. You were still hesitant to eat anything this man put in front of you considering he kidnapped you to another world and won’t tell you how to get home. Caleb reaches a hand across you grabbing your knife and fork and slices a piece of your scallion pancake — popping it into his mouth with a subtle groan. He cuts another piece and turns the fork to you “See it’s safe”

You hesitantly part your lips as Caleb pushes the food into your mouth. The flavors bursting on your tongue had you audibly moaning as well. Caleb was a fantastic cook — you snatched the fork from his hand and dug right in taking a few sips of your drink to wash it down. The weight of his stare has you slowing down and immediately wiping your mouth “What are you staring at?” Calebs eyes soften as he slowly scans your face “You’re even more beautiful in person”

Even though you weren’t happy with him those words still gave you butterflies — you’ve been trying so hard to suppress them. You dropped your gaze and moved the last bits of your food around your plate “Don’t flirt with me you’re gonna make me nervous” He let out a soft chuckle and flicked your nose before leaning back in his chair — flashing that gorgeous smile of his. Caleb really was breathtaking; those violet eyes almost had you in a trance. You couldn’t help, but take in all his features — your eyes going from his eyes to his lips, taking notes of how full and soft they looked.

Continuing your perusal, you let your eyes move down, taking in his long muscular, but lean frame. His legs seemed to go for miles and you watched him spread them just a little wider when your eyes reached his lap. “You like what you see pip-squeak?” You finally snapped out of your self-inflicted trance and shook your head “You’re easy on the eyes even though you make my nervous system stand on end” You pushed your empty plate away, crossing your arms over your chest as you sat back in your chair.

Caleb didn’t respond immediately — opting to just give your cheek a caress as he grabbed your plate. His silence was unnerving to say the least. Is he upset? Are you the reason he’s upset? Staying quiet seemed to be the best option. “So I’ll be leavin’ for three days I want you to stay here and when I get back I promise to give you the grand tour of SkyHaven” His voice was accompanied by the sound of dishes clattering and running water.

“Three days?!” You choked on your drink causing you to cough loudly. Caleb stopped what he was doing and rushed to your side — rubbing your back as you caught your breath. “I’m not staying here for three days! I have a life back home!” You pushed his shoulder so you could stand and get some space. You knew by the way his brows furrowed and the chilling demeanor that washed over him in an instance that you’d made him mad. “And how exactly do you plan on getting ‘home’ pip-squeak?” He took a step toward you making you step back. You didn’t get far as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you flush against him. His eyes were becoming wild — this was the same look in his eyes before he ruined your phone for good. His heart was also beating rapidly in rhythm with yours.

You: Tell me how! Caleb: Didn’t you say you hated your job? You: Yes but- Caleb: Weren’t you the one who said you wanted someone to take care of you for once? You: Caleb I didn’t mean- Caleb: So why not stay here and be happy …. with me?

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you stood there letting part of yourself give in to him while the other half was ready to run out the door. Where would you go though? Who would help you? There’s no way Caleb is actually cruel enough to keep you here knowing damn well you don’t belong in this game. “I-I can’t” You croaked out not knowing if you wanted to kiss him or kick him. You watched Calebs’ expression fall, but he quickly covered it with a small grin. He stepped away from you and you almost chased after him due to the loss of warmth. He gripped you by your chin and you stood there frozen not sure what his next move would be. He narrowed his eyes as he searched your face for what? You didn’t know. To your surprise he placed the softest kiss on your lips. The gasp that followed was swallowed up by him as he deepened the kiss. Your mind screamed at you to give him a swift kick to the crotch, but your heart was melting in the palm of his hand.

You kissed him back with the same fervor.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly close. Caleb kissed you like he would never have this chance again while simultaneously savoring your lips like he had all the time in the world. He tapped the side of your thigh and you swiftly lifted it without question. Caleb picked you up, holding you close as he moved across the room and laid you down on the couch. He pulled away breathless and dropped his forehead on your chest “If we keep going I’ll be late for work”

“I should probably get home anyway Caleb we can talk about this another day, but let me go home first” You ran your hands through his hair — it was soft. He lifted his head and for the first time, since bringing up home, his eyes showed no sign of anger. “You’re right” He stood to his full height and helped you to your feet. “Lets get you some pain medication for your shoulder” He brushed his fingertips over the darkening area “Then I'll tell you how to get home” his words were almost a whisper.

“Thank you” You could feel the tension melting off of you in waves.

“Follow me” He helped you to your feet and headed down the hallway towards what you assume is his room. You followed closely behind him; stumbling a few times to keep up. Once you were in his room your stumbling became much harder to control. Your breathing was becoming heavy and your head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. You braced yourself against the wall willing the dizziness to stop.

“What’s wrong? Come lay down” Caleb said feigning concern. Your body was too heavy to even try to fight him so you allowed him to guide you into his bed and you felt a soft kiss on your forehead right before drifting off to sleep. “I’ll be back soon”

The room was dark only lit by the moon through the window when you woke up. You sat up glancing around the room trying to figure out where you were. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust, but once they did you saw the outline of a small lamp on the nightstand next to the bed.

No he didn’t.

You bolted out of bed at the sudden realization that you were still in Calebs home. “Caleb!” You yelled as you ran down the hall out into the living room. The place was dark and quiet not a single sign of another person. You ran to the front door, frantically trying to open it, but somehow Caleb managed to bolt this door shut making it impossible for you to leave. “He locked me in?” Think.

The windows!

You opened one of the few windows that wasn't floor to ceiling and found that it luckily wasn't sealed shut. Freedom was in reach. You went to put one leg out the window when you were met with an electrifying pain. “Ow! Damn it!” There was some kind of electromagnetic wall just outside the window. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Your breathing was ragged and tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. “Fuck you Caleb you were never going to let me leave”

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#love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x you #Caleb salads #caleb x reader #l&ds caleb #lnds caleb #lads caleb #love and deep space caleb #lads #lnds #l&ds #divider by saradika graphics #dividers by saradika #nikaaaaimagines

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pureomi · 2 days ago

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˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ she see money all around me, i look like i'm the man

includes: itoshi sae x fem! reader. 0.8k wc. fluff.

a/n: provider sae, we all cheered !! inspired by that one tiktok trend lol

not much grabs itoshi sae's attention, so you have to get creative.

"sae, i can't help pay rent this month." even though he doesn't glance away from the computer screen, the twitch on his face is obvious. the furrowed brows, his fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard, the imaginary question mark brewing over his head—all of it subtle but still priceless.

to be fair, he doesn't even recall being this confused when his parents agreed to send him abroad at the ripe age of thirteen—that too, all by himself!

for someone as strict as itoshi sae, he should receive an award for how quickly he paused his work to simply process whatever the fuck just came out of your mouth. "you can't, what?" he finally says, still keeping his gaze focused on the screen.

this is harder than you thought. not the pranking part; the holding in your laughter part. you somehow manage to keep it in for the sake of the bit.

"yeah, i just don't have the money to help you pay our rent this month," you continue, further emphasizing your dilemma (knowing damn well it doesn’t exist) awaiting his reaction.

but of course, your prank backfires spectacularly. the dramatic reaction you were hoping for? nowhere to be found. instead, he just crosses his arms and finally turns his chair to stare at you like you're the ridiculous one in this scenario. sae leans back in his chair, letting linger another one of those infuriatingly calm looks that make you want to simultaneously throw something at him and admire how annoyingly composed he is. "i know?" he claimed, neutrally, with a quirk of his brow like...duhh?

he continued, not even trying to be offensive, just merely stating the facts he has gathered living with you over the years. "when have you ever paid rent?"

…why would you?

he’s suddenly wondering if, overnight, you forgot you’re itoshi sae’s girl. hell, he doesn’t even let you pay for something as little as webtoon coins—hence why he made sure his card info was saved on your phone. rent was too far of a stretch to claim, even as a joke, and you know this too.

with how adamant sae is, the world could collapse before he let you contribute a single penny.

but damn, did that make it make it hard for you to continue this act.

you open your mouth to say something, anything, to salvage the prank, but your brain is running on a blank slate. "i mean," you clear your throat, trying to recover. "it’s about the…principle? you know, of financial responsibility and, um—" sae tilts his head, looking wholly unimpressed. "do you even know how much rent is?" your mouth opens. closes. he waits. you scramble. "well, yeah, of course, i—" "how much?" he asks, deadpan. your lips part, but the number? nowhere to be found. you had not, at any point in your life, thought to ask. sae quirks a brow, clearly entertained by your pathetic attempt to keep going. he rests his chin in his palm, watching you struggle with the kind of calm that makes it painfully obvious he’s enjoying this. "you were saying?" he prompts, his voice laced with amusement. you huff, cheeks growing warm. "forget it. you ruined it." but before you can even sulk properly, sae reaches forward and hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you in with zero effort. a yelp escapes you as he shifts you into his lap, securing you there with both arms now locked around you. your heart does this stupid little thing where it stumbles over itself because you can feel the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and—oh god—the way his lips are ridiculously close to your ear. "did i? or did you just get caught?" he murmurs, voice low and entirely too smug. "you—!" your hands instinctively grab onto his shoulders, trying to put some space between you two, but he doesn't let you. if anything, he picks you up to place you fully against his chest. "go on, finish your little act," he challenges, lips curling into a smirk. you glare at him, ignoring the rapid pounding of your heart. "i hate you." "yeah?" his voice is a quiet hum, teasing, daring you to keep going. "i guess that’s what i get for absolutely spoiling the shit out of my girlfriend." you pout, trying to look annoyed, but your resistance fades as you sink into his arms.

instead of staying smug, sae softens his grip just a little, his tone becoming more serious. "i take care of what’s mine, so don’t bother pulling tricks on me before you empty my bank account."

"do you understand?" he continues, his voice low and steady as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. the softness of the gesture contrasts with the firmness of his words, leaving you to wonder how he always manages to make you this flustered every time. all you can do is just nod, giving in to the fact that your boyfriend is a rich snob who always gets his way—one you’re completely obsessed with, no less. seriously, what are you gonna do with him? 🤍

#—🍓#—cookie writes #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #blue lock itoshi sae #bllk x reader #bllk x you #itoshi brothers #blue lock #blue lock imagines #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #blue lock x reader

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ohmybueckers · 1 day ago

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big ole freak - paige bueckers x reader

Summary: you're Paige's sneaky link and have her absolutely wrapped around your finger

Themes & Warnings: kinda sub Paige, driving while intoxicated (this is NOT an endorsement please do NOT do this), car sex, light choking kink, strap-on sex, oral sex, slight degradation, maybe one line of breeding kink, filth, like actual filth (with like a little bit of fluff at the end)

Author's Note: inspired by big ole freak by my mother megan thee stallion y'all i've had this idea brewing for a month so glad it's finally out in the world. special shoutout to my uconn hot girl twin @sierrale8ne and all the other hotties out there. In the wise words of meg... "your honor, i'm a freak bitch." happy reading <3

“He hit my phone with a horse

So I know that mean come over and ride it”

Wednesday nights were hit or miss at UConn - either you loaded all of your courses on Monday and Wednesday and had the night to chill, or you were prepping for a horrendous end to your week. You were in the former category, deciding to attend a party hosted by a friend of a friend you hardly knew - labelled a “wine Wednesday” party to anyone who asked why the fuck anyone would throw on a weeknight that wasn’t Thursday.

You maybe made it through one glass of cheap rose before your night evolved how most nights ended up in the not-so-bustling town of Storrs, Connecticut: sitting out by the fire pit of the beaten down rental house with your friends in a circle, passing a joint around and talking shit (about professors, exes, parents… no one was off limits in the rotation) under the glow of some poorly strung lights.

Though you hadn’t touched another glass since your first inhale, knowing that you were not risking getting crossfaded tonight, it didn’t help much. You always seemed to forget that weed and parties did not mix well for you. Every sound felt heightened yet muffled at the same time, from the bass of the music to the conversation your friends were having around you. Your skin burned, heat flooding down your back in a way that almost made you squirm.

You needed an out, and soon.

Your savior came in the form of two buzzes in quick succession from your phone on your lap. Though you typically aimed at staying present when surrounded by others, you ruled this as a worthy exception. You lifted it, immediately shifting it away from your friends’ view as you read the texts from the all too familiar contact.

Paige: wyd rn?

Paige: wanna see you tonight pretty girl

“Nobody know, I fuck with him on the low”

If you told the version of yourself two months ago that you would end up fucking Paige Bueckers, she would have laughed in your face. It was no secret to anyone in your friend group, many of whom had come in close contact with UConn athletes, that she had an extensive history, none of them sticking around for longer than a couple of nights. You refused to be yet another victim to community dick (in this case, community strap). Maybe you would be a little less put off by the idea of getting with someone with a reputation like Paige if she wasn’t so cocky about it, like she got off on the idea that girls were obsessed with her.

And then the two of you met on a night out at Ted’s, where she insisted on buying your drink (you told your friends afterwards that you let her for economical reasons). You attempted to stick with your friends that night, tired of your past filled with messy hookups that never led anywhere, but of course they all decided to mingle with the basketball team. Meaning Paige had the rest of the night to throw looks your way, practically eye fucking you. You hated to admit it, but you understood why girls were into Paige beyond aesthetic reasons: she was incredibly witty, quick to poke gentle fun at her friends while also making jokes about herself. Though it was clear in the few times she brought it up she loved what she did, it didn’t feel like the entire conversation revolved around her being a basketball star. And you couldn’t deny the way her gaze made you feel, like you were the only person there. And you hated it.

When you allowed Paige to put her number in your phone, you would also insist that it was due to bragging rights and had no intention of contacting her again. And when you texted her that night with just your name, you almost convinced yourself it was just the polite thing to do.

The two of you texted frequently throughout the week, with some time between messages due to her busy practice schedule and your insistence on not seeming like an overly obsessed groupie. You didn’t need to fuel her ego, no matter how much her attempts at flirting caused an ache between your thighs and how many times you’ve resorted to nights alone in your room, a chorus of moans filling the space as images of blue eyes and toned arms overwhelm you. Sure, you wanted to fuck her. But one thing you knew: if it was happening, it was happening under your terms.

It finally did around a week later, after a great afternoon showing for the Huskies in Gampel Pavilion. You stood in the student section, watching her light up the court in ways very few people could. The crowd was electric with every assist she made to Azzi, every time she made a clean three point shot, and with every effort she made to hype up the crowd. She truly was in her element. you would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.

Still buzzed from your tailgate beforehand, you texted her to say congratulations, to which she responded with a trademark Paige Bueckers flirty comment. It was certainly not the first time she had attempted this with you, so you weren’t sure why this time was any different. Maybe it was the liquid courage, but before you could think twice, you replied.

“want me to show you how winners get treated?”

That’s how you ended the night tangled in Paige’s sheets and long, strong limbs. Basking in your post orgasm glow knowing that throughout the entire exchange you were in control, even when you were receiving. For the first time in a long, long time, a hookup felt good.

You and Paige continued texting, this time more frequently. You were fully expecting Paige to be the type to hit it and quit it, as she had done many times before, but having a taste of you just seemed to make her want you more. And yet you never told your friends about any of it. Not because you were ashamed or anything, but because you knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. It almost never did with athletes, even ones that kiss your forehead and text you good morning every day. Though you were fully expecting it to end at some point, you really didn’t want to deal with your friends making it a huge deal. Even if there was a little part of you, a voice in your head you did everything to silence, that told you maybe you didn’t want her to go.

“We never show up together but I text him when I'm ready to go”

A half assed excuse left your lips as you walked away from the couch circle and closer to the trees, far enough away so nobody would hear when you pressed an all too familiar contact and made the call. The phone hardly needed to ring one time before her end of the line was overwhelmed by a cacophony of loud voices. Unless your ears were deceiving you, you swore you could hear KK scream “liar!” at someone

“Hey pretty gir- aye! Be quiet one moment!” Her attempt at being quiet quickly escalated to a yell, presumably at one of her teammates, before returning to your conversation with an apologetic tone, “Sorry, I’m at Aubrey’s.”

Why the UConn girls were seemingly partying on a Wednesday night was beyond your comprehension, but it was honestly the last thing on your mind in that moment. “‘Wanna see you tonight’, huh? Tryin to ditch your teammates?”

“They’re all too invested in Mario Party to care. Besides,” She paused, her voice getting quieter (and unless you were hearing things wrong, more vulnerable), “It’s worth it for you.”

You knew what you wanted, and boy you were going to get it. With a sickly sweet grin you asked, “Pick me up in ten?”

“I had a couple of shots at the bar

I'm finna play with that dick in the car"

You knew the second you shut the door to Paige’s car and kissed her that she had been drinking that night, the presence of liquor on her lips. You would be so ready to scold her for driving under the influence, tell her she should not play with her life like that, if you weren’t also just appreciative for any out you could get. Besides, as long as she was telling the truth, she was only a couple shots deep. The weed in your system had dulled down at this point, and instead of feeling overwhelmed from the noise around you, you were overwhelmed by the urge to have Paige the way you wanted to. especially with how she looked now, glasses on and hair thrown into a messy ponytail, silver chain accessorizing her sweat set. God, you didn’t even know if you could make it to her bed.

“This new?” She asks about two minutes into the twelve minute drive, gesturing to your top. It was an old one, found in the bottom of one of your bins of clothes while you were searching for a going out top that would allow you to put off doing laundry for another day. It worked well enough - a simple crop top with a flattering neckline. “Looks really good.”

“Nah, kept it from freshman year,” You replied, head braced by your arm against the side of the car staring at the girl next to you. Paige had a grip on her steering wheel, eyes focused on the practically empty roads leading to her apartment. A part of you was very thankful she was being cautious given the circumstances. But another part of you, a more sinister voice, wanted to try something.

Your manicured hands traced up your torso, your own touch nearly making you gasp. Damn, you really were that desperate. Your nails played with the hem of your shirt, gently pulling it up towards your breasts as the air conditioning hit more and more of your skin. “This is new though.”

Paige hit a red light, making a confused sound before her eyes met yours. They didn’t stay there long before trailing down, past your neck and to the bra that currently had your tits pushed to the sky, one hand reaching around to cup one as you licked your lips. Your top could hardly be considered one anymore, pooled at your collarbone as you continued touching yourself. You maintained your gaze, looking at the blonde like she was prey as her tongue met her cheek inside her mouth, a loud swallow going down her throat.

When she finally spoke, it was a breathless chuckle that revealed just what kind of effect you had on her as she shook her head. “You’re something else.”

The green light flashed into the car, prompting her to return her gaze back to the road and press on the gas. Google Maps said you were eight minutes away, but judging by the way your finger was tracing around your bra covered nipple, you weren’t sure if you could wait that long. And if the way Paige’s eyes were bugging out of her head at the road attempting to not look at you were any indication, you knew she felt the same. “Paige?”

“Mhmm?” She asked through gritted teeth, hanging on to her last thread of self control.

“Pull over.”

————

“That’s it, just like that… fuck.”

You nodded in Paige’s pussy, nails grazing her thighs. The set up could be more ideal: All six feet of her were crammed in the backseat, sweats pooled at her ankles as you sat almost diagonal in order to have a more comfortable position. Neither of you really seemed to care all that much, too intoxicated off of each other and your respective substances. Besides, judging by the way Paige massaged your neck and whined, you wouldn’t be here long.

You only needed two more minutes eating Paige out like she was your last meal before her grip tightened at the back of your neck, cumming with a cry of your name. You ate her through it, slurping her up like ice cream before slowly rising, placing a kiss to her lips so she could taste herself. She hummed with contentment into the kiss, cupping your jaw tenderly. You separated, your smirk cocky as her hand traced back down your neck, feeling the soft material of your bra for herself. “So fucking pretty,” she whispered to herself, eyes trained on how the color of the garment made your skin look radiant. Her hands switched directions, gently tracing up before reaching your neck and applying pressure with hungry eyes.

“We’re going home. Need to see you cum on my dick now.”

“I'ma make him wait for the pussy

Hit it 'til he big ole skeet”

The rest of the car ride was uneventful, Paige keeping a grip on your thigh as music propelled you guys into her parking lot. When you reached her apartment, you were ready for the inevitable fight for dominance between the two of you. Instead, Paige merely hung her keys on her hook and moved to the kitchen. “Want any water?”

You almost laugh as you follow her in, as if she was pranking you. “What are you, all talk and no game?” You joke, still taking the offer. Despite drinking Paige up just moments prior, you were very aware of just how dry your mouth was.

Paige smirked, taking a sip of her own water before grazing your torso with her hands. “Just tryna be chivalrous, ma.”

You took a big gulp of water, allowing yourself to sink into the feeling of Paige’s touch before setting the glass down. “Don’t need all that,” You murmur, the pads of your fingers playing with the hem of Paige’s hoodie. You look up, maneuvering yourself so your lips were as close to her ear as possible before murmuring. “Just need you.”

“Oh yeah?” She teases, already beginning to back you towards her bedroom, her tall frame overwhelming yours. Now this is what you came here for: the feeling of her tongue slipping in your mouth as your lips collided, the feeling of her properly undressing you as soon as her door shut behind you, and the gravel in her voice as she commands you to “get on the bed”.

“You have no fucking idea how bad i’ve wanted this,” Paige growled, crawling above you and connecting your lips once more before peppering them down to your neck. You couldn’t help but sigh, deciding that you would put up with a million lackluster parties if they all ended like this.“These perfect tits.” She moved to toss your bra on her floor before licking around your nipple, sucking on your breast and surely leaving a mark - she always found a way to, much to your chagrin. You allowed yourself to take pleasure in the feeling for a moment, resting up before your next move. Because while you moments like these with Paige, there was no way in hell you were letting her think the dynamic switched.

With a swift move that even left yourself dumbfounded at your abilities , you hooked a leg around her and flipped the basketball player over, catching yourself with both hands on the mattress. Paige’s jaw dropped, equally shocked and impressed. “Woah.”

“I thought you’d figure out by now that I’m in charge here,” You quipped, gaining enough composure quickly to maintain the persona you wanted. You were going to fuck Paige just as much as she was fucking you. You quickly made the executive decision that Paige was wearing far too many clothes, gesturing her to raise her arms before moving to help her remove her hoodie leaving her in her sweats and a sports bra - very typical Paige attire. You nipped, kissed, and sucked above her chest in the areas not covered by the sports bra, careful to avoid her neck or any other areas that would be visible in a jersey. At one point, you took the chain she wore in your mouth, feeling the cold metal against your lips. Paige groaned, attempting to tug your mouth back on to hers by lifting you from your waist. You tsk, “Be patient.”

“You’re making patience really hard, sweetheart.” She states through gritted teeth, one hand moving to your hair and tugging to make a point. She was desperate tonight, just the way you liked her.

Deciding to give her a little taste of you, you sat up so only your ass made contact with her, sitting plush against her pelvis. Need to see you cum on my dick now, her voice repeated in your head. with a mischievous glint. Slowly, you began grinding your hips, your ass hitting against her. “This what you want?”

She threw her head back, realizing what you were mimicking. “Please.”

“Beg.”

You would think you said something far more outrageous the way she looked up at you, eyebrows raised. “You crazy? nah!”

Typical Paige, not one to give up without a fight. You knew all too well how this would end though.“Suit yourself.” You shrugged, continuing your actions from before, this time trailing a hand down your short skirt and lightly touching yourself through your panties.

“Fuck baby,” She swore she could feel how wet you were as you continued rolling your hips, giving her a preview of everything she could have if she just put her ego aside. “You’re killing me right now.”

“I think I know what would fix that,” you purred.

“Oh fuck,” her voice was almost strangled, any ounce of dignity she had quickly leaving her body and being replaced by the urge to make you feel good. Her eyes appeared as though they were welling up as she pleaded with you. “Please let me fuck you. Would do anything to make you feel good.”

A smile spread across your face, knowing you finally had her exactly where you wanted her. You paused your teasing, swinging your leg back aroundand reaching a standing position. Her eyes followed you, her gaze equally confused and frustrated, before she recognized the box you were reaching for in her drawer.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You asked, harness and dildo in hand as you sauntered back over to the bed.

“Ain't nobody freak like me

Give ya what you need like me

Ain't nobody got on they tip, tip toes and rode to the tip like me”

You were putting on a whole ass show for her. Your feet were positioned on each side of of her, providing stability as you bounced on her silicon dick like your life depended on it. Your tits bounced with each impact your bodies made. The room was quiet (save for the sound of both of your moans and the dull buzz of the vibrator against Paige within the strap), but it was like you were moving to a melody, alternating between fast moments of riding her and slower moments where you simply moved your hips, allowing yourself to bask in the pleasure.

Paige laid back against the pillows, practically mesmerized at the sight of you as you ran a hand through your hair, throwing your head back in the process. “Holy shit.”

“Any other girls fucking you like this, baby?” You don’t know why you felt the need to ask. For one, you were very confident in your abilities, and you also knew that Paige was likely still going home with other girls. It’s not a topic you ever cared enough to approach.

“No other girls anymore. None could make me cum like you,” Paige shook her head, moving to grab your waist and help facilitate your movements as if she was seeking any form of control she could get. “Riding my dick like a slut, baby, fuck.”

Your eyes wandered a bit, over to the collection of photographs on Paige’s wall, the number of awards given, all the way to one particular object. Your hips began to slow progressively until they came to a complete stop, prompting a disappointed groan from the blonde beneath you.

“Stand up. I wanna try something new.”

“I want to fuck in the mirror, I like to look at your face when you in it

Come in the room and I'm giving commands

I am the captain and he the lieutenant”

The sides of the chair you were gripping were cold, in contrast to the heat rushing through the rest of your body. Paige stood behind you, pounding into you from behind as the both of you took full advantage of the full length mirror beside you giving you a full view of everything - and by everything, you meant everything, from the way Paige’s hair looked entirely fucked out to the wetness dripping down her thighs.

Paige’s eyes squeezed shut, unable to handle the way your ass looked rippling against her, how your waist fit in her hands as she slammed you back, and she especially could not handle the way you were looking at her in the mirror. “Baby imma bust,” she moaned, her words slurred together. She was too drunk off of you.

“Hold it. I’m almost there,” you instructed, reaching down to rub circles around your clit. You were dripping, cream forming a ring around Paige’s strap. You moved your hips, twerking on her dick as you looked back at it. Paige was convinced in that moment that if it were not anatomically impossible, she would have absolutely accidentally knocked you up in that moment.

“Need to cum so bad, baby. You feel so good, so fucking fine.”

The warmth that once rushed through you from the joint was now accumulating to your core. It was all becoming too much, even more so when she slapped your hand away to help rub hard circles on you, her desperation a mix of wanting to be the reason you finished as well as the realization that she was going to blow any moment.

“Gonna cum.” You finally moan, feeling as though your legs may snap as you let go. Paige was not far behind, gripping your waist and burying her head in your neck as she pressed herself to the base inside of you.

“Usually I like to fuck

But tonight we gon' make love 'cause you bae”

You attempted to catch your breath as you laid down next to Paige. She had both hands on the sides of your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You’re so perfect,” She murmured, eyelids drooping as she fought the urge to pass out then and there. Her touch was less possessive this time and more tender, cupping your skin as if it were made of glass.

You let out a breathy laugh at her words, almost like you couldn’t believe them, yet you couldn’t stop the way your body nuzzled into hers further. “You’re just happy you got laid tonight,” You quipped.

“I don’t mean it like that. you know I don’t.”

Perhaps one of the most important rules of hooking up with an athlete, especially one as high profile as Paige, is to never believe a word they say. So you felt a little silly when you took note of how her blue eyes gazed at you, waking up enough to make eye contact to show you that this was the truth. It felt worse when you felt your heart skip a beat at the realization. In fact, it scared the hell out of you.

“Stay the night tonight,” She whispered. You had never heard her sound like that, so out of control and at your whim. She was scared too. “I don’t want you to leave.”

You nodded, pushing past the voice in your head screaming at you to run just as you had after every other night you and Paige shared. You were tired, and Paige was right there, and it was just not the time to listen to your head over your heart. “Okay.”

You would deal with logistics later. All you needed now was tonight.

#paige bueckers #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #wlw smut #Spotify

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eicsferrari · 2 days ago

Text

never met - op81 smau

summary: people start making up rumors about oscar and yn. problem is they never actually met

face claim: random girls from pinterest

a/n: this is chaos but it was fun to write hope you like it

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

gossipf1 singer yn and oscar piastri are reported to be dating according to inside sources

view all comments

user5 please let this be true

lando rue, when did this happen?

user14 helppp what is lando doing here

user3 my two worlds colliding

user7 she's not good enough for him

user8 ?? he's not good enough for her

yn inside sources who??? i never saw this man in my life😭😭

user10 he's a formula 1 driver

yn oh i only know lewis hamilton aka the goat aka the loml

user10 fair

yn he looks cute tho👀

sabrinacarpenter no yn!

yn 😊😊

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption: this is the man yall think i pulled? Damn thank u

replies

↪sabrinacarpenter you are insane😭

↪lando +61 12345678 text him

જ ♡ જ

yn jazzy nights are my favorite

♡liked by sabrinacarpenter, oscarpiastri and others

view all comments

user6 best night of my life

sabrinacarpenter i'm in love with you😍

yn me when i see you

user1 oscar liked...

user4 don't start

user1 i just stated a fact

user9 obsessed with your voice, i want you to sing me to sleep every night

જ ♡ જ

gossipf1 yn and oscar spotted hanging out after her concert

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user8 i fear this couple would be too iconic

user4 just... no

user5 i dont know this man my ass

yn in my defense i really haven't met him then!

lando it's true i can confirm

lando i can also confirm yn was oscar's most listened artist last year

oscarpiastri why are you here?

lando gossip is my bat signal

જ ♡ જ

yn trip made it out of the groupchat

view all comments

lando groupchat and it's only two people

yn get off my comments

lando i got you his number and this is how you repay me?

user9 lando tell us who it is🙏🏼

user3 if lando set them up it has to be oscar

user7 i'm in love with her aesthetic

user5 white shirt=oscar

user14 stop we don't know

sabrinacarpenter did my invite get lost in the mail?🤨

yn babe i'm sorry he means nothing you are the love of my life

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri posted a story

caption good company yn

replies

↪user4 gossipf1 ended up setting you two up huh

↪sabrinacarpenter i remember when i was the one taking her pictures...💔

જ ♡ જ

yn sorry osc i go where lewis goes🏎️

view all comments

oscarpiastri 😐

user4 osc🥺🥺

scuderiaferrari everyone is a ferrari fan ♡liked by author

francocolapinto hamilton fan first, a girlfriend second. i respect that

user5 did he just confirm that they are girlfriend and boyfriend?

mclaren 💔

yn sorry😔

charles_leclerc i approve son oscarpiastri

yn forza ferrari!

user26 we lost her to a sports guy...

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri posted a story

caption prettiest girl is in fact my girlfriend

replies

↪yn giggling blushing throwing up kicking my feet🥺🫶🏼

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption he's still mad i did not wear orange

replies

↪lando it's papaya not orange😡

yn same fucking thing

lando it's not !!

yn ok but the word papaya is so ugly

lando YOU TAKE THAT BACK

જ ♡ જ

yn the rumors are now true, i'm his favorite artist and he's my (second) favorite driver

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user18 she's gorgeous😍 he's just there😐

francocolapinto yes yes you might kiss but did he ever say he wanted to learn your language just to understand your jokes? i don't think so

yn call me when you are his top artist on spotify loser

user12 don't mind me i'm just patiently waiting for the love songs this will inspire

oscarpiastri you are never going to let me live this down, right?

yn you are stuck with me and my bad jokes sorry bro

sabrinacarpenter just remember she was mine first papaya boy

oscarpiastri noted🫡

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri she finally wore papaya

view all comments

user2 she's so hot🥵

yn not that word again😭

lando i will block you if you keep hating on the papaya

yn do it i dare you

yn i look so good tho

oscarpiastri you always look amazing

yn i love me a boy who can sweet talk

lando god stop being cheesy on main🤢

yn weren't you going to block me??

lando i should have

yn just do it you coward

user23 yes yn put the car guy in his place!

lando why are you supporting her when your page is dedicated to me??? are you a fan or a hater?

user23 i'm your biggest fan! but i support women's rights and women's wrongs so i'm with yn

yn HA even your fans like me better😛

lando you stole my teammate and now my fans what else do you want from me😭😭

જ ♡ જ

lando posted a story

caption disgusting

replies

↪yn disgustingly cute yes

lando whatever helps you sleep at night

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri posted a story

caption dont let their online banter fool you, they are friends

replies

↪yn babe don't expose us like that😔

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri 🧡

view all comments

yn DELETE what if lewis sees this?

user21 she's so real

lewishamilton i feel betrayed

yn nooo💔😔 you will always be n1 in my heart

oscarpiastri 😐

yn deal with it

yn i am so incredibly proud of you and i love supporting you🥺🧡

oscarpiastri thank you for being here<3

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption i'm going to tell my kids this is their dad

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption just kidding, i love you oscar

replies

↪ oscarpiastri i love you more❤️

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pathologicalreid · 2 days ago

Text

spring into summer | s.r.

in which Spencer pursues a relationship with you. you try to resist every advance - for your own protection.

[previously]

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angsty content warnings: blowing smoke part tew, at a bar but it's not specified whether or not reader drinks alcohol, kissing, if you have a problem with my bar music keep it to yourself, maeve as a plot device, love confessions, not edited word count: 2.25k a/n: y'all i wasn't gonna do this, but listening to this song... yeah i had to.

“Spencer’s here!” Penelope exclaimed from her bar stool, her heels clicking on her way to the front of the bar, hoping to lead Spencer through the crowd to where the team had decided to set up shop.

Your head snapped up in alarm, tilting your head to the side and trying to get JJ’s attention, “I didn’t think Spencer was coming out tonight.”

She frowned slightly, placing her glass on the bar and shrugging, “It was an open invite.”

An open invite that you extended to the guy you’re seeing. You huffed, pulling the strap of your dress back over your shoulder and flagging down the bartender, hoping to get a drink before you need to play defense against Spencer.

“Hey,” Ethan said from behind you, a cute guy from counterterrorism that Penelope had introduced you to. His hand sat comfortably on your waist as you got the bartender’s attention again, letting him know that you’d actually need two drinks.

You smiled back at him, panicking slightly when he leaned in to kiss you. Evading his kiss, you let his lips land on your cheek, turning your head so that you were facing Spencer.

The two of you had as little contact as you could manage in the past two months, ever since Spencer’s attempt to ask you out had gone completely awry. Of course, ceasing all contact was unavoidable, between work and Spencer’s continued pursuance, you continuously found yourself under his net.

Ethan squeezed your waist gently, taking the glass that the bartender had placed in front of him and grabbing a straw for yours. You thanked him, crushing the straw wrapper against the bar and taking a sip.

Admittedly, you weren’t interested in the guy in the slightest. The second time you went out together, he’d gotten your name wrong, but he was friends with Penelope’s crush, so you were trying to be a good sport.

It felt like the world was playing a cruel joke on you, pairing you with someone who couldn’t be bothered to remember your name while you were trying to shut out a guy who remembered your favorite flower from a conversation three years ago. Yesterday, you’d found a bouquet on your desk for the third Thursday in a row.

Every time you read the card that he sends with the arrangement, you almost forget yourself. It would be a waste for you to get rid of them, which is the only reason you’ve kept them on your desk.

Or so you keep telling yourself.

“You look nice,” Spencer whispered to you, reaching between you and JJ so he could grab his drink from the bar. He looked good, you noticed him against your better judgment, even the embroidery on his tie managed to catch your attention.

Before you could collect yourself enough to respond to him, Morgan had already pulled him back to a booth, putting an arm around his shoulders and pointing out different girls in the bar while Savannah rolled her eyes. His hair was growing out from the undercut that he’d debuted in the fall, falling in front of his eyes until he inevitably flicked the stray hairs away.

Peeling your eyes off of him, you looked back at Ethan, who’d already made his way through half his drink. His eyes were glued to the baseball game being displayed above the bar. If your date had noticed you ogling your coworker, he didn’t show it.

Tentatively, you tapped his stool gently with your toe, “Hey,” you tried to get his attention, batting your eyelashes. “Do you wanna go over to the jukebox with me? We can pick a song together,” you offered.

He frowned and shook his head, “Nah, the Nationals game is on.” He nodded his head up to the TV, refraining from sparing you a glance.

You looked up at the screen, they were at the bottom of the second inning, and you were in for an exhausting night. “Right,” you said flatly, “I’ll be right back.”

Sharing a look with Penelope, who shot you a supportive thumbs up from the other side of the bar, you got off your stool and adjusted your purse over your shoulder. You liked that this bar still had a real jukebox, as opposed to the updated touchscreens commonly found in bars nowadays. You dug through your purse for a quarter, half paying attention to your rummaging and using the rest of your brain power to study the available songs.

A few things caught your eye, most of the available tracks were classics—Journey, Queen, and a Meatloaf track that was suspiciously out of order. Probably because the song was over eight minutes long. “Here,” the familiar voice—that you’d been trying to avoid—spoke.

Spencer held a quarter out for you, leaving the coin displayed in his palm until you graciously accepted it. “Thanks,” you said, “Do you have any suggestions?” You expertly dodged his attempt at eye contact, sliding the quarter into its slot and reading through the titles again. Pressing your lips in a thin line while you ignored the way he was leaning over the jukebox.

“Why did you ask him to come out?” He asked, pointing at one of the songs and chuckling when you shook your head. He should’ve known better than to actually make a request. After all, you were just being polite.

You squinted at a title, worn with time, and you distracted yourself with the task of reading it. “I didn’t know you were coming with us,” you muttered, refusing to let your curiosity get the better of you and resisting the urge to just select the worn button. “You don’t usually like this bar,” you reminded him. You couldn’t remember the last time Spencer went out to a bar that wasn’t O’Keefe’s.

He hummed next to you, standing so close that you could feel his body heat intermingling with your own. “So,” he started, “You wouldn’t have asked him to go out if you had known I was going to be here.”

“I didn’t say that,” you told him, your eyes flickering to the side. Not enough to see his face, but enough to notice that he’d taken off his suit jacket, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

“You might as well have,” he returned, watching as you finally chose a Fleetwood Mac song, concluding that you’d either have to choose a song you didn’t want or waste Spencer’s quarter.

You peeked around him, your date still preoccupied with the sporting event. Even so, you tried to make your way around Spencer, but he grabbed your elbow and held you back.

There was nothing forceful in his action. If you wanted to snatch your arm away and stalk away from him, he wasn’t going to stop you, but you found yourself interested in staying with him. It would be worth your while to stay with someone who was begging for your attention rather than return to the bar to beg for someone else’s.

Spencer looked around, mindful of the members of your team who were still in earshot while he led you away from the crowds. He tucked you away, resting your back against a shiplap wall in a corner, perfectly concealed from curious profilers. “I want to talk to you,” he whispered, leaning against the wall.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest in preemptive defense, making sure he stayed at least a foot away from you. “I’ve said everything there is to say to you,” you made no effort to avert his gaze, no attempt to duck away from the conversation.

“I haven’t,” he responded immediately, his voice steady despite the noticeable pounding of his carotid. It was almost as if he’d practiced this speech before, going through every permutation of the conversation in his mirror before meeting you out.

Raising your eyebrows, you looked up at him; the sun was setting, the orange light reflecting in his brown irises while he studied you like it was the last time he’d ever see you. “Spence,” you breathed, waiting expectantly for him to continue.

“You never actively pursued me, how was I meant to know you were interested?” His question made you want to scoff, but the earnest look in his eyes gave you pause. “Admittedly, social cues aren’t my strong suit, and I know you know that.”

Your shoulders relaxed, “So, because I never actively pursued you, it’s my fault that we never ended up together? Was I supposed to declare my intentions to you?”

He shook his head, sending strands of wavy brown hair tumbling in front of his forehead. In another life, you would’ve reached out to fix his hair. “No, I’m saying that while you never actively pursued me, I am actively pursuing you. I just want to make sure you know what page I’m on,” he told you, nervously picking at his nails.

“Spencer,” you sighed his name, “I already told you I couldn’t do it.” You’d cried it to him, actually. You expected this conversation to be more of the same, pleading with Spencer to understand your perspective on the situation while he relentlessly begged you to reconsider.

Reaching out, he touched your arm gently, nothing more than a graze of his fingertips across your bare skin, “And I want to prove to you that we can do this. I can be the guy that you want.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to push yourself further into the wall until you phased right through it, “I can’t take the back and forth.” You needed something stable, but what you needed would never be reflective of what you wanted. The most brutal truth of all was that you still wanted Spencer. You considered him your first love, and no one ever gets over their first love.

Just like he’d never get over his.

“There are just too many years between us, Spencer. It’s too complicated,” you told him, trying to keep your breathing steady. It would be exhausting to explain your tearful look to the rest of the team.

He waved your reasoning away, “It’s not. It’s not complicated. I love you and you love me. So, why can’t we be together?”

Your lips parted, staring up at him with wide eyes as your brain frantically tried to catch up with the situation at hand. Each beat of your heart was like a repetition of the word—love, love, love.

Spencer took your silence for rejection, “Maybe it’s just me then.”

“It’s not,” you croaked, fear and love and sorrow causing your throat to strangle your words. You looked up at him and wondered how long he’d been sitting on that confession. You wondered how long he’d known you loved him. You wondered if he still dreamed about Maeve. For whatever reason, that’s the only curiosity that you voiced, “Do you still dream about her?”

“I only dream about you these days,” he answered, his voice soft in the cacophony of the bar, keeping the conversation private despite your public stage.

“You can’t mean that,” you murmured, your face warming in response to his confession.

Your response only seemed to encourage him further, leaning his head down to allow himself contact. He pressed his lips to yours gently, and you found yourself leaning into him more than you’d like, each movement of his lips reminiscent of a chisel against the wall that you had constructed between the two of you.

Reaching your arms up, you propped one over his shoulder and used your free hand to weave your fingers in his hair—just as silky as you had always imagined it would be. His lips were soft against yours, and you knew you were fighting a battle that you could never win. You’d always run back to him.

Even when you pried yourself away from him, there wasn’t an ounce of regret in your bloodstream, but there was an outpour of sorrow. “Spence,” you breathed, blinking tears from your eyes while he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he responded, “I shouldn’t have done that.” His tone didn’t reflect his words in the slightest, there was no remorse in his eyes when you met them for the first time in a new light.

You shook your head instantly, “It’s okay.” You understood why he had done it. Telling you he loved you. Kissing you. He hadn’t done either of those things with Maeve. Spencer was trying to make a statement with you; he wanted his actions to speak louder than words.

He frowned, “You’re crying. I’m so sorry.”

Your lips parted to respond, but you hesitated for a moment. Curiosity was rapping at your door, wanting to know if the last person he had kissed was Diane. “I’m not crying because I didn’t want you to kiss me,” you admitted, hoping that your candor would serve to bring him some comfort.

“Oh,” he breathed, “Oh.”

You nodded, confirming his suspicions, “But I meant it when I told you I can’t do this. I just… not right now.” You needed time to come to terms with the fact that the love you never expected was right around the corner, and you needed time so that Maeve wasn’t the first person you thought over after kissing him.

“Okay,” he said, taking a small step away from you, “But you… you’ll let me know?”

Your head bobbed, “I’ll let you know.”

"I love you and I always will and I am sorry. What a useless word." - Ernest Hemingway

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot

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keferon · 11 hours ago

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Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!

_____________________

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Part 1.

The fic under the cut⤵️

Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.

“Prowl, do you know what the Great Hunt is?”

Prowl tilts his head keeping up with the lists he received from the Council.

“Traditional raids on monsters made to consolidate control over the land holdings of regular Mechs.”

Orion rubs the bridge of his nose

“It's a massacre.”

Prowl twitches his wing.

“It is a measure of intimidation against creatures that cannot be negotiated with. Brutal, I don't deny that, but experience shows it works. The destructive activity of monsters lessens considerably if they know their actions can be followed by punishment.”

Orion stares at him. For a long time. Silently.

Tensely studying him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“You think killing them instead of finding a compromise is...right?”

Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.

“I think it works. That is all. Monsters do a lot of damage with their existence. They kill, destroy and pillage. If periodically reducing their numbers reduces their damage, it confirms the effectiveness of the strategy.”

“They just want to live. Primus' sake, they want to eat.”

Prowl sighs. More for appearances than for any real effect.

“I suppose I can't judge them for wanting to survive. It makes sense.”

Orion nods.

He looks oddly pensive.

“Ratchet keeps picking up wounded...” he stammers, apparently trying to find a suitable alternative to the word monster “...wounded beastformers. I've been to his house. It's generous, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets caught doing it.”

Prowl frowns

“He should have stopped.”

“You wouldn't understand.” sighs Orion ”Him. Shockwave. We want to help. To make things better. I don't need you to chide me for disobeying the rules, I need you to figure out how to change them. Ghosts and insecticons deserve freedom as much as we do.”

“But...”

Orion looks at him angrily.

“No. Whatever you're going to say in response to that. No. I know you're driven primarily by logic, but I need you to remember it well. All sentient beings deserve to live free. Do you understand? All of them. Period.”

Prowl rolls up the lists and interlocks his fingers in front of him. There are small scuffs on his thumbs and index fingers from constant writing. He occupies himself with running his fingers over them, feeling the difference in texture.

“Mech's freedom in such a case ends where someone else's hungry jaws begin. You can't expect monsters and Mechs to just coexist in peace if you give them freedom.”

“No” sighed Orion ”That's why I support Shockwave's idea with creating an academy for magically gifted Mechs. He's helping to show the world that so-called 'dark creatures' can be as civilized citizens as any Mech. He teaches them to find that compromise. We can't just expect centuries of hate and fear to be forgotten once the laws change. We must direct this process. To help the Mechs understand and accept each other. Guide them, you might say.”

Prowl feels a headache coming on, as it always does when Orion requires him to logically solve a problem the answer to which lies in the feelings rather than the intellect. He's not built for this. It irritates him.

Orion stops right in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me what you think of this. If...let's pretend for a second that my morality fiddles don't matter anymore. That the problem of Mechs and monsters coexisting is something you alone need to solve. And solve it in such a way that the outcome is optimal for us as a society. To maximize the number of happy citizens. What would you do?”

Prowl is silent for a moment.

Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.

“'Free from my judgmental conclusions, Prowl. From the standpoint of pure logic. What should we do?”

What to do...Prowl's thought process finally finds a direct and understandable train of thought. Monsters make up a paltry few percent of the population of all living Mechs. The numbers fluctuate depending on which region is being considered of course.

In some cities, some types of monsters are considered just fancy Mechs. Some monsters have risen from the status of savages to being respectable Mechs over the course of history. Even Orion's best friend, Shockwave, could be regarded as a mystical creature in some regions due to his gift of flight.

Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.

But even that tiny percentage takes a significant toll on the economy and quality of life, because just one uncontrollable creature can terrorize an entire city.

He notes the weight of Orion's hand on his shoulder. Not judgmental. Orion promised he wouldn't judge.

“I'd get rid of the monsters.”

“Oh” Orion blinks ”Locked them in cages? Chased them away? Killed them?”

Prowl twitches his wings

“Banishment will only move the problem in terms of space, and imprisonment isn't secure enough. It would make sense to get rid of the monsters. Once and for all. It wouldn't be pretty or merciful, but it would greatly improve life for everyone, at the cost of a tiny percentage of living beings who were already of no use.”

“And you believe that would be a good outcome?”

“I believe it would.”

“But you're not a Mech yourself.” Orion reminds “Would you be willing to be exterminated along with the rest of the creatures if your plan were put into action?”

Prowl tilts his head slightly. Just to make it easier to look at Orion.

“You created me to, as you put it, help you make the world a better place. Sometimes in order to improve something you have to cut out the factors that get in the way. It's simple logic.”

“You didn't answer my question” Orion points out ”How would you feel if I decided to take your advice and destroy all mystical creatures, including you?”

“I am not made to feel” straightens Prowl ”My job is to find solutions to problems. I gave you a solution.”

“You don't include yourself in the reckoning.” snorts Orion “Again. You talk as if you will never be affected by anything.”

As it should be, Prowl thinks. He's a conscientious worker and a ..seemingly law-abiding citizen. He does what he can to make Mech's lives better. Even though he may not be a Mech, he's doing the right thing. Why would something happen to him?

Orion removes his hand from his shoulder and shakes his head.

“'Alright. I've heard you. But I want to make it as clear as possible - what you suggested is immoral, cruel, and should never be implemented. Do you understand me? Never. If you want to build a better world, you cannot and will not build it on other people's deaths. Have I made myself clear enough?”

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

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

Ratchet looks...many words could be used to describe him.

He's standing in the center of the trial room with a lot of emotions written all over his face. But if Prowl had to describe - he'd say Ratchet practically radiates rage. Not violent. More of a powerless one.

The rage of a Mech who knows he's cornered, but refuses to even consider giving up and admitting defeat.

Prowl sits in a far dark corner, silently documenting the whole process.

The council is furious. They apparently discovered that Ratchet has been dragging wounded monsters to his house and healing them all this time.

Which is ... very much as expected from Ratchet.

Prowl wants Orion here, but both Orion and Shockwave are now on a diplomatic mission a few days away, so the only support Ratchet has is...Prowl. Who can't help in any way, so he just sits there and meticulously documents the whole process so that Orion can then be informed of every single detail.

The council doesn't look happy. They say that Ratchet is sabotaging the hunters' efforts to contain the monsters by his actions.They are angered by Ratchet's absolute determination to insist that he was doing the right thing.

Prowl would be impressed, if only Ratchet's stubbornness made sense.

It's simple math. Ratchet saves lives. Monsters take them.

Thus Ratchet's life has much, much more weight and is more valuable.

If Ratchet would just accept the Council's decision now and promise to stop curing monsters, the whole problem would be solved as efficiently as possible.

But Ratchet, of course, persists. Probably just because that's his nature.

Ratchet can also afford to be so stubborn because his skill level makes him incredibly valuable to the Council. Prowl knows for a fact that if any other medic were in Ratchet's shoes right now - they would have been sentenced to banishment or execution by now.

When Ratchet realizes exactly how the Council caught him, his rage is instantly replaced by shock.

This revelation is enough to startle him and make him back down. To nod and numbly swear that he will end his "blasphemous hobby."

Prowl carefully folds the scribbled scrolls into the case as the Council doors close behind both his and Ratchet's backs.

“Orion will be happy to know that you were prudent enough to avoid death.”

Ratchet shifts his gaze to him

“You knew? Knew they could see through our optics? Did you know they could find out anything about any Mech at any time?”

Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely

“Knowing things is my job.”

Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.

“How does Orion deal with it...”

“Orion has a reputation with the Council. They consider him a decent, law-abiding Mech, so they see no point in keeping tabs on him.”

“Are you kidding?” Raetchet raises his eyebrows “Orion can't do everything he does and remain ‘decent’ in their eyes. He and Shockwave practically cuddle with every possible creature every day and all they get is a little reprimand????”

Prowl tilts his head

“Orion learned to look away in time. And he has me for everything else.”

Ratchet doesn't answer him. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly and starts to walk away.

His shoulders look oddly tense. He looks defeated, but not in the way a Mech would describe a slain turbofox. No. There is a deep-seated, angry determination.

A willingness to act dictated by desperation.

The news of the surveillance has thrown Ratchet off balance but not knocked him off his feet as the Council had hoped.

Prowl looks at his back and walks off in the opposite direction. The problems of living, feeling Mechs have always been and will always be mysterious to him.

Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.

He doesn't stage protests. He doesn't accept the verdict.

He leaves silently, taking with him only medical supplies and an old lantern.

The council is furious, turning over every stone in an attempt to find him, but all in vain.

Prowl's daily duties now include “keeping track of any possible news related to Ratchet.“

And then, no matter what he finds, report to Orion that he's found nothing.

Put on a little regular show for all concerned. Show the Mechs in the Council that Orion remains loyal and does his best to find and bring to justice any blasphemer whether it's a friend of his or not.

He is his purpose. But the more time passes, the harder it becomes for him to trace the path to the fulfillment of that purpose. He envies the golems whose only function is to scrub floors. Their lives are understandable. A clean floor is a temporary but easily attainable goal. They are happy to fulfill the goal for which they were created. And then they're happy knowing their job is done well, until the floor gets dirty again.

Prowl is walking towards his goal, but it's not getting any closer. He knows what he needs to do to get there, but the variables are constantly changing and he has to adjust his course of action each time according to new information, conditions, and Orion's opinion on them.

Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.

————————————

Orion doesn't turn around on him as they walk down the hall. But Prowl can physically feel the attention focused on him.

“Prowl. Did you know I was awarded today for my ''outstanding service'' by the entire Council?”

“I did not.

“They've gone through all the reports and discovered that according to the logs me and my mechs are performing excellently when it comes to eliminating mystical threats.”

“Congratulations.”

“It's funny that you feel the need to congratulate me too” Orion continues ”Because I certainly didn't give orders to eliminate anyone.”

Their pacing doesn't falter. They continue to walk calmly down the hallway as if nothing is happening. But Prowl can practically taste the increased tension.

“Prowl” says Orion “Why is the Council rewarding me for murder? And where are the Mechs they think I killed now?”

Prowl checks the scrolls. Not because he doesn't remember. Just to buy some time to formulate an answer.

“They were the inevitable casualties. I took charge of their destruction. On your behalf.”

“You know how I feel about killing.”

“I know.” nods Prowl for some reason. Why? Not that Orion can see it “I also know how the Council feels about Mechs showing suspicious activity. They would have started watching you as soon as they noticed you were letting monsters slip away from you suspiciously often.”

Orion...sounds... conflicted. He sounds struggling.

“You killed them.”

“I gave the order. As any other hunter would have done in my place.”

Orion stops so abruptly that Prowl doesn't catch the moment and bumps into his back.

“We're supposed to be better than other hunters Prowl! How can you still not grasp that concept!!!”

Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.

Around them is a relatively empty hall. Windows covered by heavy curtains. The cleaning golems scurrying back and forth.

“I understand” he says “But let me remind you that you cannot test their trust infinitely. Your 'being better' rests on your reputation. And it's my job to make sure your reputation lives up to it.”

Orion looks at him...Prowl isn't even sure how to describe it. Usually he has to argue with Orion's logic, proving his point but this time...Orion is the one arguing with him.

It feels strange. Uncomfortable.

He's doing everything Orion wanted him to do, but for the sake of it he has to do something Orion can't stand.

Orion clenches and unclenches his fists helplessly. Rubbing the fabric of his cloak.

“Shockwave can save lives without killing anyone.”

“Shockwave is one unfortunate act away from serious consequences” shakes his head Prowl “His academy is looking more and more like his own small army every day. His students are not loyal to the Council, they are loyal to Shockwave. And the Council knows that. And will use it. And it won't be pretty when it happens.”

“No...” shakes his head Orion, not addressing anyone in particular ”No no no no no...”

Prowl can understand why Orion is upset. But he also knows he's right this time. Shockwave may look like a fine example of mercy, but he walks on the very edge of the law and any wrong move will instantly turn him from “out of the box thinker” to renegade.

The Council will come for his head and the Council will get his head because Shockwave will have nothing to prove his loyalty with.

Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.

Orion can bend the rules, can borrow the Council's trust, can do all sorts of reprehensible things. He can stumble and fall and then fall a couple more times and find that it doesn't hurt him because Prowl caught him even before he stumbled.

He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.

But Orion's life is far more valuable than the lives of monsters.

Society doesn't need monsters to become better, but society needs Orion. Monsters need Orion. Because if Orion is gone, no one else will care about his idealistic goal.

“Sometimes I forget how creepy you can be...” mutters Orion ”You're going to betray me sooner or later.”

“I could never betray you.” Prowl twitches his wing.

“You've successfully betrayed what I believe in.”

“It's fine with me if you hate me for it. As long as you are alive, safe, and can continue your quest.”

Orion falls silent.

He turns away to stare at a strip of light from a nearby window. There are beautiful, wrought iron grates that cast an intricate, curved shadow on the floor and walls.

A golem janitor hurries past them.

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Shockwave falls.

Prowl isn't there to see for himself, but a lot of rumors reach him. Lots. Lots of rumors.

The Mechs say the time of the Great Hunt has come.

They say that when the hunters arrived on the Academy's doorstep, Shockwave didn't let them in.

They say. He stood in front of the gates.

With sword in one hand and the Primus Covenant in the other, and declared that his school was a sanctuary for all living beings in need of protection.

Claimed that anyone who dared set foot inside with a weapon would have to go through him.

“And they retreated!” gestures Orion frantically ”They didn't dare test him! They backed away from the walls of the Academy. I don't know how many monsters were left alive in the forests that night, but none of Shockwave's students were harmed...”

Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness

“The Council wouldn't just let him do that.”

Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.

“You're right, you're right. You're right now and you were right back then. They're going to bring him before the Court by tomorrow, and...”

“There's no chance of that ending well,...is there?" Prowl finishes his thought.

Orion looks pained

“They'll be going through everything he's been up to. Every forged document, every enrolled Mech who by all criteria should be considered a monster. Every time he sheltered them from the Council instead of destroying them. They'll realize what he's been doing and they won't like it at all.”

Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.

“Shockwave has tremendous support from his Academy. There's a chance the Council will be afraid of invoking their wrath and won't judge Shockwave too harshly.”

Orion continues to walk in circles

“You think so?”

“There is a good chance.”

Prowl finds Orion in Sickbay. Which is very disturbing and wrong, because Orion was supposed to be at the Trial. Supporting Shockwave and begging the Council to relent.

But Orion is in Sick Bay. When he shouldn't be.

And he's covered in ugly dark burns. From something Prowl can't recognize.

This is all wrong. It's all--

“What happened at the trial?”

Orion sounds. Startled.

“There was no Trial.”

“What?”

Orion sounds as if something inside him has cracked. In every sense of the phrase.

“The Trial hasn't even had time to begin. He...” Orion clutches his trembling fingers, hoping to still them, but it has no tangible effect. His shoulders are trembling.

He looks like his whole body could be torn apart with one careless touch. “They asked him if he would plead guilty to aiding and abetting dark creatures. All they had time to ask was if he realized he was wrong.”

An uncomfortable, prickly feeling settles in Prowl's mind.

"And?”

Orion squeezes his fingers so hard the creaking of hinges becomes audible.

“It...I...Prowl, his very spark began to ooze dark magic. It was horrible, it was like.. it was eating him from the inside. The entire courtroom became darker than night, many Mechs got burned. I've never seen anything like this before! He..It.. started attacking Mechs and destroying everything...it was like it went crazy...it attacked me and I had to...Prowl I had to fight it! I didn't...I'd heard about it happening but I believed until the last minute that I wouldn't have to face it...”

Gears of chaotic detail fall into place in Prowl's mind.

“Shockwave...turned into a demon...?”

Orion nods shakily

“The Council didn't even have a chance to sentence him or spare him or even sort out what happened.....

He stated that he did not consider himself guilty for what he had done and...Primus was the one who made the judgment before anyone else could...”

That's... terrifying really. For a number of reasons. Losing a close friend is awful, being subjected to such merciless punishment is awful, but also...

What sends a chill down Prowl's back is the moral implication that such punishment carries.

Orion, as if reading his thoughts, raises his gaze to him

“Is what we are doing...wrong? I don't...does Primus think helping monsters is worthy of punishment?”

Now that's a really reasonable question.

Shockwave would say that Primus is merciful and would never condemn a Mech for an act of kindness. But Shockwave ended up being condemned.

Ratchet would say that he doesn't care about Primus' opinion because Primus isn't real. But Ratchet isn't here.

Prowl wants to say that it doesn't matter whether or not Primus thinks they're wrong, what matters is that he can at any moment force his justice on any living spark, so his concept of right has to become Orion's too, or else he's doomed. But Orion is definitely in no state to have a philosophical argument. He looks shattered and Prowl almost instinctively is about to go and find Shockwave, but remembers that option is no longer available.

He's not made for this. Shockwave has always been the one to cheer Orion up on a bad day. Not Prowl, no. Prowl isn't sure what to do so he just sits down next to him and gently places a hand on Orion's shoulder. The one where he can't see the burns, so it shouldn't hurt.

“I don't. I'm used to always relying on your point of view as a reference for what's right and what's wrong.”

“I know” runs a shaky hand over his face Orion “But it's not like I'm perfect. I try, god, I try but just like with the logical part - my vision isn't flawless. Have I been...wrong all this time? Trying to disrupt Primus' intended vision? Maybe what I've been trying to fix never needed fixing. Maybe it's just me being so stupid and not understanding things maybe...???”

Orion cuts himself off mid sentence, realizing that he's started raising his voice and waving his arms around again. He sits back down on the medical bed and curls back up into a miserable ball.

“What should I do....”

“I don't know,” Prowl repeats awkwardly.

He is his goal. But his goal ..doesn't exist anymore?

He doesn't know where to put himself.

Golems are made to fulfill requests. But Orion's request system has been evolving and complicating for so long that Prowl can't tell where its boundaries are anymore.

He feels lost.

——————————

Orion stops cold.

“What...”

Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.

They are in a spacious courtyard bordering directly on the Council building. It's a very beautiful, open and spacious place because it was originally built with large crowds of Mechs in mind. There's wide walkways, a massive circular plaza with fountains and statues.

And right now, it's filled to the brim with Mechs, most of whom Prowl is seeing for the first time. They're all wearing knight armor and carrying weapons, however still kept in their scabbards.

They look like a small army. A very, very diverse army, Prowl realizes. Because there are almost no regular Mechs among them.

Orion looks... distraught.

Mechs? Monsters? A few knights separate and come closer, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Orion Pax.”

There is so much grief and disbelief in Orion's eyes that it physically hurts to look at him.

When he begins to speak his voice sounds hoarse, like someone has poured sand down his throat.

“What...what are you doing here...?”

The knight standing in front of everyone ceremoniously places his palm on his spark.

“We are here to fulfill the last will of our mentor and your friend. Shockwave has decreed in his last will that in the event of his death his legacy must pass to you and those of us who wish to carry on his work must publicly pledge our allegiance to your will.”

Orion clutches his hands together to keep them from starting to shake again.

“But...I was there. I...your mentor was slain by my hands...how can you..."

"It doesn't matter. Everything that was his is now yours." smiles the knight sadly "We will make sure his legacy lives on. And even if the Academy falls - you can always count on us."

At the same time as he finishes speaking, the knight in blue armor drops to one knee, pulling Shockwave's sword from its sheath and holding it out respectfully to Orion... who looks like he's about to start crying.

He dazedly accepts the sword, twitching in surprise when it turns out to be heavier than expected and probably tries to say something, but all that comes out is a short sorrowful sigh.

He just.

Clutches the sword to his chest, watching in disbelief as all the arriving mechs get down on one knee following the blue knight. There aren't that many mechs, but at this point - they seem to rival the sea.

Prowl knows some of them. Many of them made their way to Shockwave after Orion found them. There's the harpy over there who nearly ripped Orion's head off the first time they met. A few ghosts he can remember the faces of but doesn't know the names. He'd had a long argument with Orion that day, trying to convince him that he shouldn't take their word for it when they promised to make it up to him.

And now they're all here. In beautiful new armor. Executing their mentor's last will and testament.

Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.

The crowd of hunters that has come to find out what's going on looks as speechless and dumbfounded as Orion.

" What" Orion also gets down on one knee to be on the same level as the knight "what's your name?"

Prowl squints warily from behind Orion's shoulder. The blue mech looks normal, but to be honest, there's no way someone coming out of the Shockwave Academy is going to be an normal plain mech. There has to be a catch somewhere.

"My name is Skids," smiles the knight shyly. "I am...was...Shockwave's best student."

"You are very brave Skids" smiles Orion sorrowfully "I promise to do my best to take care of Shockwave's legacy. And you."

Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.

"This is crazy..."

Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head

"It's also quite devious. Shockwave told them specifically to swear to you where all comers can see it. So there's no way for the Council to accuse you of purposely swaying an army of monsters to your side. Everyone saw that this gift was given by force. Now you have many allies with unique skills who are loyal to you and the Council won't try to take them away because they are firmly convinced that you are loyal to the Council."

Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.

"It is..."

"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."

"And I don't know what to do with it!" raises his head Orion "Shockwave was smarter than me and made a lot of plans in case of...I don't know...anything?? I didn't...Prowl. We've been down this path for so long and I was always sure there would be something good at the end of it. Or at least better than it is now..."

Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly

"...But if there's only the wrath of Primus and endless darkness at the end...I can't ask anyone to follow me there. I'm not sure if I can keep going myself..."

He sighs helplessly

"I'm not even sure if that even matters."

"The chance that Shockwave would try to use you in some way was about twenty-eight percent."

Orion twitches

"What?"

"I understand that you're hurt by his...fate." Says Prowl "But have you considered the possibility that Shockwave was being punished for betraying you rather than the Council?"

Orion doesn't even answer at first. Just looks at him dazed and bitter.

"Prowl...no. He couldn't have."

"I'm just speculating" shrugs Prowl "Shockwave was punished but as far as I know God didn't bother to name the exact charge. We don't know one hundred percent what exactly caused his...sentence. He may have betrayed the Council's ideas, or he may have betrayed yours."

They both just exist in silence for a while. Processing the information.

"If...and I mean if!!! If Shockwave was convicted of harboring monsters, then everything we've been doing all this time can be considered useless blasphemy..." says Orion slowly "...but if he was punished for something else..."

"...then that would mean there's nothing wrong with your idea." finishes Prowl.

Orion frowns

"It would also mean that Shockwave lied to me..."

Prowl nods. The situation is ugly no matter which way you look at it.

Shockwave, as Prowl knows him, would hardly have framed Orion, but Mechs tend to go to great lengths to avoid execution.

If Shockwave had shifted some of the blame to Orion then, it would have partially saved him. Was that what he was going to do? Was this what Primus had stopped him from doing?

Orion's finials twitch slowly

"I don't know Prowl. I don't know what to do. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my fantasies."

Orion is hard to read, but right now he's an open book.

Prowl tilts his head

"You're scared."

Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.

Discolored.

" I am."

Prowl can't work with that. He's used to solving logical problems and making lists and strategies.

He doesn't know how to get someone to stop being scared.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." mutters Orion "I don't know, I have no idea. It's too much...All these new knights, this whole council situation and now you're also saying that the mech I treasured the most could actually be a liar and...just leave me alone."

"But..."

"Just go away!" shakes his head Orion "Go find something else to do, find a hobby, I don't know! Get out of my head and out of my personal life!"

Prowl nods silently.

Places a couple papers in their places and silently walks out the door.

Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.

And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.

Orion's too stunned by everything that's happened to give him a clear purpose. And without a purpose, he...he's gone.

He continues to stand by the closed door.

A thought runs obsessively through his mind.

If Shockwave was sentenced for something no one knew about, then punishing him the moment of that trial was a truly terrible decision and even worse timing.

But if Shockwave was sentenced for helping monsters...Prowl isn't sure why his mind resists the idea.

Maybe he's not being objective because he shares Orion's views and aspirations.

Maybe because he has looked at the entire square filled with dangerous monsters and has seen nothing but sorrow and respect in them.

The idea comes naturally.

Then God must be wrong.

He looks at the cleaning golems again. He envies them.

They are peace and contentment.

They are a clear and simple goal.

Probably the biggest stress that happens to them is random mechs passing by and interfering with their cleaning.

And then there's Prowl, standing by with no meaning or purpose and wishing he could throw something heavy because the one who gets in his way is an indefinable force of nature and a complex system of values and beliefs created by millions of years of cultural development....

But Primus can't stop him, can he?

Prowl is not alive. He has no emotion so that his intentions can be categorized as evil, but more importantly he has no spark so that its magic can turn him into a demon.

He is his purpose. His purpose is his god. And Primus stands in his way.

He turns around and walks away.

#maccadam #transformers #tf mimics au #prowl #Prowl’s beef with God #Orion pax #shockwave #senator shockwave #Ratchet #Skids #Oh no Prowler #Orion doesn’t want you around right now #go find someone else 👁#I’m done with Prowl’s backstory. Now you know how he thinks so #when you see him being weird later you will know exactly what is wrong with him haha #also eheheh. the great hunt lore #the reason there was almost no foxes in Ratchets part of the story #I have a lot of thoughts about religion and all the ways it fucks people up

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reds-hoodies · 2 days ago

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You see, I can’t stop thinking about how Jason would rest his head on your chest when you two are cuddling.

He likes to listen to your heart beat.

It grounds him.

Maybe he’s had a bad day. Maybe nothing special happened at all. But either way, at the end of the day, he’ll be seeking you out.

Because Jason’s life is crazy. And yes, he’s proud of what he does and who he is, but sometimes (a lot of the time) he can’t stop thinking about…Everything.

He thinks about the nightmares. About everything he’s lost. About the hollow space in his chest that never quite fills. And how sometimes, the world is just too loud. Too much.

But when he lays his head against your chest and listens to your heartbeat, it all quiets.

It’s a proof of life. Proof that you’re still here. Proof that he is, too.

And when you run your fingers through his hair and press a kiss to his temple; When you just hold him, steady and warm, and let him listen-

He finally lets go. Of the noise, of the ghosts, of the weight he carries.

(And though he’ll never admit it, that’s some of the best damn sleep he’s ever gotten.)

#I like half asleep rn so I’m sorry if this makes no sense #I’m just rambling at this point #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #gotham knights #red hood #gotham knights jason todd #dc #dc x reader #dc jason todd #dc redhood #dcu #dc comics x reader

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amfstargirl · 18 hours ago

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Yandere batfam x neglected reader

Standing in the yard, dressed like a kid, the house is white and the lawn is dead ⋆·˚ ༘ *

You stood firm on the ground, eyes stern and unwavering. In front of you was a place all too familiar—the "shelter" where you grew up, the house that had been your home for five years of your childhood. As you stood there, memories flooded your mind, both the happy ones and the melancholy ones. Your eyes roamed around the place, taking in every detail before you finally decided to enter, lest anyone mistake you for some kind of lunatic loitering outside someone's house.

As your feet mindlessly carried you into the room, a heavy, shaky sigh escaped your quivering lips. It hadn't even been five seconds since you entered, yet you already felt the urge to cry. Oh well, that's what memories do to you. You gently caressed the dirty white wall adorned with your old, fading doodles. Most of them were pink—your favorite color then and even now as an adult. You smiled sadly as the memories of your time in the house flooded back, making you nostalgic. You scoffed sarcastically at the irony that you missed this place more than the manor where you'd spent a longer time.

Perhaps it was because the old you—the innocent, sweet, and pure one—was still within these thin walls that had sheltered them through all the bad times. You could feel their giggles and laughter lingering in the air. Tears streamed down your face as you stared at every sticker, doodle, and writing spread across the walls. Somehow, you cried out of joy, relishing the fact that the child you left behind in this house was still here in some way. Still innocent, still unaware of the harm the world could do.

In the manor, all the love you ever knew came from the man who introduced himself as the family butler but whom you soon came to know as your father. He was the love you craved and begged for at Bruce's feet. He fed you, took care of you, and taught you the things you needed to know. He attended family days, PTA meetings, and other events that your biological father should have been at. Under Alfred's shelter, you did everything you could to try to level with your siblings' talents—learning acrobatics, martial arts, drawing, baking, and more.

Yet it was Alfred who, in the dead of night, under the whispers of the cold wind whipping past your teary face, assured you that you would never need any of those skills to truly earn your family's love. All you needed was to be yourself. You allowed yourself to believe his words and lived them as your truth for a short time, but soon gave up on the idea, accepting that they wouldn't truly see you.

Now, dwelling on your lingering past and memories outside the manor, you remembered those you knew before coming to live with them. You reminisced on the thought of your mother. You remembered her.

You remembered how poverty ate your mother away and that she couldn't provide necessary needs for you but you, sweet, beautiful, angel you never complained.

You remembered how much you loved those barbie shows and movies but couldn't afford the dvds and even a proper functioning television so you sometimes watched it from your window across your neighbors, and while watching you saw a glimpse of their life. Their happy, perfect family life. How they cuddled their daughter and watched those silly barbie movies together. Your eyes softened as you thought "I wanted that" the little you hoped that maybe one day momma will get better and finally love me. Your tears poured from your eyes at the thought.

You remembered while you were doing your homework alone, you heard a whimper outside your window near the alley. As you peeked your tiny head outside, your braids flowing with the cold, harsh wind, your eyes searching for the source of noise. As you let your gaze travel through every corner of the alley, you saw a dirty, poor puppy whimpering, alone, calling out for its mother, its father, anyone. You ran hastily outside and collected its tiny and fragile form gently in your arms. "I'm here, I'm okay, you're safe," you whispered softly to the creature. And from. That very day you fed it and kept it sheltered secretly from your mother. You named her Amara. It suited her. You didn't have much play mates so you sometimes play with her by the yard where you and her would either run together or lay down. You never really got to say goodbye to her. From "that" moment on, you never got to go back to your house. You wondered how she was. Was she well fed? Did she think you abandoned her? Does she miss you? The guilt of living her ate you up the longer you dwelt on the past. You shook your head and sighed, trying to forget about all of it. You mourned every version of you. And this was your most treasured one. Thinking back on all the memories you had of the old you, of her. You thanked them for being so forgiving, for being so brave, for being so content with what she had, and for never trading anything for it.

They Were such a kind soul. And you're glad that they gets to stay where they were the happiest despite the nightmare they endured those days. You will always look up to them. They were and will always be a part of you. You took one last look at the house, the drawings, the dirty corners of the room, and released a breath as you closed your eyes. This was it. You'll finally get to say goodbye-

Whimper

You froze as you heard a familiar whimper. You turned around and slowly walked towards the opened door, and you saw her. Amara, your friend. You can't help but let the tears fall as her once brown fluffy appearance is now old and grey. You wondered how even in the light of old age she somehow still seems so youthful. She was still your baby. With a shaky voice, you tested the name. "Amara...?" she wags her tail in delight as a response to the familiar name she's been waiting to be called for so many years. You kneeled down and gently caressed her. "Oh, baby. You've been waiting for me, haven't you?" she whimpered as if answering you. You noticed her trying to catch her breath and her body growing weaker. You glance at her tail and see its wagging has become more frail and slow. You glance at your eyes, and you know. You smiled at her and whispered, "It's okay, baby. You can rest now." Her face weakly lit up, and she slowly closed her eyes, calm and loved, finally in your embrace.

After some time, you tenderly wrapped her body in a blanket. You carried her to the yard where you both used to play together as kids, a place where you ran freely without a care in the world. Borrowing a shovel from a tenant in the apartment, you buried her there, in the spot where you both were the happiest.

You whispered silent prayers for your companion and left with the memories. This was it. You've made your peace with the old you. Almost. There was one more thing you have to do.

You used believed that your mother could have been so much more. She was a beautiful woman. Smart, even if other would beg to disagree. But, you knew that she knew how to play her cards right to get what she desired for. She would have been so powerful if she used her sharp mind to something much more.. Productive. Yet she chose to sleep with men, abandon her daughter, and let herself be eaten by poverty and lust. Well, you didn't really mind if she abandoned you. You've always felt like you were the burden, the barrier to her way of succeeding and the chain locked onto her feet, keeping her from truly running away to what she has become. You've seen it in her eyes, the thought of running away and living a new life, but when she looks at you.. She saw a mistake she could never be freed of. A mistake. If only you weren't born, she would have been so happy.

Blink.

Blink. "Ma'am?" the nurse asked. Suddenly, you were back to reality. You blinked again, processing her words. You glanced at her expectant expression and blurted out, "Y-yes, yes, uhm. Yeah. I'm ready." She smiled and said, "Great. Let's go this way, ma'am." You followed her hurriedly, not wanting to test her patience. As you walked, dissociating and thinking of all the possible outcomes, the nurse suddenly stopped in front of a room and said, "We're here. You can enter now." You nodded and thanked her silently.

Facing the door, you chanted in your mind, "You can do this," with a mix of determination and uncertainty. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and opened the door. There she was—your mother, in all her glory. Bare-faced and vulnerable in her comfy hospital gown. You almost choked on your saliva, seeing her this... bare. You had always seen her so filtered, her face adorned with colors, her clothes tight and bright. Awkwardly, you shifted in your place and slowly sat beside her bed as her gaze followed your every move. You cleared your throat, preparing to speak, but she beat you to it.

“I know you.” you widen your eyes at her as she continues “you're my child.” you weren't shocked at the fact that she acknowledged you but the fact that she called you Her child, and the softness in her eyes. You were starting to think that maybe this isn't your mother, because she never looked at you like that. Never in years of living together has she even glance at you.

She chuckled at the sight of your confused and shocked state, bringing you out of your thoughts. "What? Shocked? Of course, I still remember you, Y/n," she weakly said, her voice small and quite different from the harsh tone she used to yell at you with. You inhaled sharply, trying to stop your tears from falling. What the heck? Were you about to cry again?

"I thought with how much resentment you harbor for me, you would have forgotten about me by now," you smiled sadly at her, watching her face drop slightly but still smiling weakly.

"Oh, Y/n," you almost crumbled right then and there. Oh, how much you had longed to be called so sweetly by your mother's voice. "I never hated you... that much," she said bitterly, and you stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue. "I just wasn't born to be a mother, no—at least not in this life. I'm a mess and I always will be. And I'm sorry I couldn't change for you because nothing can and nothing will change me anymore."

Your lips frowned at her words. "I always thought that maybe you could have been better without me," you said. You miss her, and you will always miss her. She was your whole world, but now seeing her and talking to her made you realize her world was clearly much different from yours. Her world was something one could not escape. You knew you couldn't live like that, and it seems that she cannot live any other way. They said that a mother and children exist as wretched mirrors of each other. You were all she could have been and she was all you might have been.

She closed the distance between you and embraced you for the first time. "You never were. It was me. I was the problem. You were just a child. In another life, I would've been able to care for you." You didn't question her on why she couldn't do it in this life because you knew. You knew she didn't have the capability to be a good mother and a morally good person now, and that was okay. You couldn't live with The fact that she will never truly care for you and will always hold secret animosity towards you if you force her to be a mother to you. You closed your eyes for a minute and silently took in the feeling of a mother's embrace for the first and last time.

"This is the last time you're ever gonna see me again," you said. Your mother chuckled bitterly and replied, "I know. Good for you, kid. Leave everything behind and start anew. You deserve it."

You soon moved out of her arms and held her hands tightly, looking into her eyes. With a deep exhale, you walked out of the hospital. This was it—you were finally free from your past. You had made your peace with it, and now it was time for you to move forward. You knew that if you didn't confront the horrors of your past, they would haunt you for the rest of your life. You had made a good choice.

As you stepped outside, the cool breeze greeted you, and you felt a sense of liberation wash over you. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. It was as if the universe itself was acknowledging your newfound freedom. You took a moment to breathe in the fresh air, savoring the feeling of lightness that now enveloped you. Walking down the street, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. The city seemed different somehow—brighter, more alive. You noticed the little things that you had overlooked before: the vibrant colors of the flowers in the park, the laughter of children playing, the distant hum of traffic. It was as if you were seeing the world with fresh eyes, unburdened by the weight of your past.

For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace. The past no longer held you captive. You were free to live your life, to pursue your passions, and to surround yourself with people who truly cared for you. It was the beginning of a new chapter. You get home to your apartment and sit at your couch grabbing some blankets and making hot cocoa. You thought to yourself that this is what you exactly needed. Watching barbie movies in your new cozy apartment without any burden past onto your shoulders, the little you would have been so proud, making you smile at the thought. This was it. Nothing was going to stop you now.

That's what you thought.

It has been 2 weeks since you've moved in your apartment and you're getting ready for your ballet rehearsal. You were especially excited about this as you were going to perform swan lake when you got to enact one of the most important and famous characters, how cool was that? As you were about to grab your pink bowed pointe shoes a sudden “ping!” notification was heard from your phone. You turned your head and went to grab it expecting a message from one of your close friends or even your ballet mates but all you were met with was a message from a person you least wanted a one from.

Dick. Your supposed older brother is asking you to hang out with him. At this very moment. You dropped your phone and stared at nothing while breathing heavily. You feel your heartbeat rapidly breathing, the knot in your stomach growing more tighter and tighter each minute you let the thought sink into your brain. You almost tripped at your foot as a result of your vision disfigured, as if you were looking through a fish-eye lens. This wasn't right, this wasn't supposed to happen. When-how?-why?! Why was this happening now? You were only starting to feel like everything in your life was finally starting to go your way. Why did this have to happen? It was as if the universe was mocking you. You bit your lips until it bled but you couldn't care less. You were numb. You hadn't even realized that you were nowate for today's rehearsals. With trembling hands you reached for your phone and shakily pressed the button “block” as you silently prayed that he-they would never come in contact with you ever again.

Of Course that wouldn't happen though. The universe was never really on your side.

Dick? What's happening here?

A sudden deep voice spoke, bringing Dick out of his deep trance. He turned around and saw his father standing outside the door, looking suspiciously at him. He stared at his father and saw the look on his face—full of confusion and unfamiliarity, not towards him but the room he was in. "I-it's Y/n," he stuttered, the name tasting so sweet on his tongue. He wanted to roll around in the scent of you. Was that weird? No—he just missed you, that's all.

"What about them?" Bruce's voice carried a nonchalance that almost made Dick angry. How could he be so indifferent about his precious sibling? With a hard voice, Dick replied, "They're gone." Bruce's eyes widened slightly at the response. What did he mean you were gone? You were just here when... Wait, when? He worriedly glanced at Dick, and as if understanding, Dick answered, "I know."

Bruce inhaled sharply and stepped inside the room, your lingering scent greeting him. Your trophies adorned the walls. This was your room? No, it couldn't be. This was too little. This was just... not it. The difference between his other childrens bedrooms and yours was so noticeable. You didn't have any fancy chandelier decorating yours. You didn't have your own bathroom.

Bruce's eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail. The neatly arranged trophies, the faded posters on the walls, and the small bed that seemed too empty now. He walked over to the desk and picked up a framed photo of you, when was this? You look so.. Grown? How old were you? Were you old enough to live alone? How come he didn't know? Did you have a job-were you even allowed to have one? he clenches his fist as he stares at the sight of your image and sees your bright smile. His heart ached at the sight. How had he missed this? How had he not noticed the signs?

Dick watched his father, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He wanted to scream, to demand why Bruce hadn't paid more attention, why he hadn't been there for you. But he knew he wasn't any better than his adoptive father was. Besides, it wouldn't change anything. The damage was done.

Bruce set the photo back down and turned to Dick, his expression a mix of regret and determination. He saw the tiny diary and other papers scattered across the floor and picked them up, reading them one by one as he slowly spiraled into regret and guilt. Dick watched as he knew this was going to make him understand. Today made it all clear to him. Why there was a nagging feeling inside of him saying that there was something missing in the manor. It was why the sweet muffled music of the orchestra haunted the manor, the same kind of music haunting their bedroom. Like it was a reminder, a warning. That something special was lost. The soothing sound of humming, light footsteps around the manor now gone. The pink bows tied around the handles of the stairs, the love that the plants receive now nowhere to be found. It was because you took that love with you.

"We need to find them," Bruce spoke, his voice steady but filled with urgency. His knees bounce as his Jaws tighten anxiously.

Dick nodded, his resolve matching his father's. "We'll find them," he replied, his voice firm. "And we'll make things right."

As they left the room, Bruce carrying the framed image of you tightly, almost as if he was paranoid that something would take it from him, and dick gently running his thumb through the texture of your pink, bowed, bright diary, the weight of their mission settled on their shoulders. They knew it wouldn't be easy, but they were determined to bring you back. The silence of the manor was a stark reminder of what they had lost, and they were ready to do whatever it took to make amends.

Bruce was anxious. He didn't have a plan. Ironic, because Batman always had a plan. It was an unspoken rule—Batman was always prepared. But now, he found himself at a loss, his mind racing with uncertainty. Perhaps it was because he knew every single person in Gotham. As the guardian of Lady Gotham, he prided himself on understanding the intricate web of connections and motives that defined the city's inhabitants. He calculated every person's actions, paid attention to every detail, and watched from the heart of Gotham.

He paid extensive attention to everyone... except you.

It wasn't intentional. He had always been consumed by the weight of his responsibilities, the never-ending battle against crime, and the need to protect the city. But now, standing in your room, surrounded by the remnants of your presence, he realized his failure. The irony of it all struck him—Batman, the meticulous planner, had overlooked the most important person in his life.

Now he was desperate, he may not have a plan but he was desperate. He'll do anything to get you back. Any possible way to get back all the times he failed you, when he failed to be a father to you. He swore to protect you and never let you out of his sight ever again.

Dick wasn't any better. As he walked, his thoughts played tricks on him, but in a way he almost relished. His mind insisted that you must be so scared without him, without your older brother to protect you. He didn't even consider the possibility that you could be an independent, fully functioning individual on your own, or the fact that you had grown and most likely abandoned the thought of "bonding" with him. In this moment, his mind was consumed by the image of you and the curiosity of what more you had within yourself that he had neglected. His anxiousness grew, causing him to bite his nails and run his hands through his hair in frustration. His breathing became ragged, and his heart pounded in his chest. It was as if he had turned feral, his bloodshot blue eyes itching to be blessed with a vision of your face.

The more he thought about it, the more his mind played tricks on him. He imagined you scared and alone, wondering why your older brother wasn't there to protect you. He couldn't bear the thought of you suffering because of his neglect. His thoughts raced, each one more frantic than the last. What if you were hurt? What if you were in danger? What if you had given up on ever reconnecting with him?

The guilt gnawed at him, making it hard to focus on anything else. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed you, that he had missed so many opportunities to be there for you. His heart ached at the thought of all the moments you had spent alone, craving the attention and love that he hadn't given.

As he continued to walk, his thoughts became more erratic. He imagined you thriving without him, having found your own path and your own sense of independence. The possibility that you no longer needed him stung, but it also filled him with a strange sense of pride. You had grown, despite everything, and that was something to be admired.

Still, his mind couldn't rest. He needed to see you, to know that you were okay. The uncertainty was driving him to the brink of madness. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, determined to find you and make amends.

he wouldn't rest until he saw you again.

Both Bruce and Dick disregarded everything around them, unaware of the curious look Tim gave them. He followed quietly behind their backs, raising an eyebrow as he wondered why they hadn't noticed his presence yet. Normally, these two were incredibly guarded, so Tim was shocked by their lack of awareness. What could have made them so unfocused?

Bruce—the Batman—and Dick—the first Robin and now Nightwing—were both engrossed in a particular object. They seemed to be completely absorbed, their usual vigilance overshadowed by their intense fixation. Tim watched as Bruce's eyes remained glued to a framed photo on the desk, his expression a mix of regret and determination. Meanwhile, Dick's gaze was fixed on the pink notebook in his hands, his fingers gently tracing the glittery cover.

Tim couldn't help but wonder what was so important about these items that it made two of the most vigilant people he knew drop their guard. The framed photo of you, smiling brightly, seemed to hold Bruce in a trance, while the pink notebook, adorned with bows and glitters, seemed to capture all of Dick's attention. They were so consumed by these objects that they had let down the walls they had built through years of vigilantism.

It had to be something incredibly significant—something better yet, special.

“What are you two doing?” asked Tim, suddenly breaking the silence between the three of them as he watched the father and son duo flinch, obviously flabbergasted at his sudden interruption at their deep trance. He observed as their face turned from shock to going back to their frowning faces making him mirror the same expression. Dick clenches his jaw and exhales sharply preparing himself to speak when he is suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice he would always recognize.

"What is going on here?" a figure with deep forest-green eyes asked, standing tall in the shadows, his cold demeanor unwavering. Dick's eyes met his, and he said his name. "Damian. Wha—"

"You have deliberately abandoned your promise to train with me today. Why?" Damian's voice was sharp, full of accusation. Shoot. That was right. Dick had forgotten to train with his younger brother today. But it didn't matter now; his other sibling needed him, and it was about time they knew about them too. He glanced at Bruce's unfocused state, feral and restless.

"It's about Y/n," Dick said firmly.

Tim stood still for a moment, trying to figure out who "Y/n" was, while Damian immediately sneered at the mention of his "rival." He couldn't pinpoint why your presence angered him so much. Maybe it was because he had to share the title of being the Wayne heir with someone so... normal, someone so far below his level. You both were so different. Perhaps he was jealous of you for being so normal, for not having to worry about tainting your hands with blood and painting others black and blue. What did you even do? He didn't know, but he bet it was something a normal civilian would.

Meanwhile, his peripheral vision caught Tim standing still, deep in thought. Damian saw him processing quickly, his mind running fast as he tried to figure out who you were and why you were so relevant at the moment. Then suddenly—aha! Tim remembered now! You were the kid who had pestered him non-stop about some game.

Tim's eyes widened as he recalled the memory. The realization hit him like a wave. He had been so dismissive back then, but now he understood the significance. Guilt washed over him, mixing with curiosity and concern. What had happened to you? Why were you so important now?

Damian's sneer softened slightly, replaced with a look of contemplation. “What about them?” asked damian. While Tim wondered the same. Suddenly Bruce's cold and deep voice said “they're gone.” Damian raising an eyebrow of his response, and Tim answering “gone? Gone how?” switching his gaze from dick and Bruce's form awaiting for one of them to answer his question as the tension in the room thickens. “I mean that they're gone. All their things not found in their room, no trace of them not in the mansion, and not even a goodbye.” Tim and Damian frowned at the same time. Damian scoffed and thought you were probably just making a big scene so the attention would be on you. Bruce said “we need to find them. Now.” his voice left no choice for them to abide by his command.

Now alone in the CCTV room, Tim let his bored gaze wander over the footage from a long time ago, his palm supporting his head. Suddenly, something caught his attention. He watched as you sat, his fingers tapping the keyboard to increase the volume. You hummed lightly at the footage, a simple gesture but not to him. Your voice was so familiar to him. His eyes dilated as you continued humming, your voice sweet as honey, as light as a mother's touch trying to lull her baby to sleep.

He zoomed the footage closer and closer, almost as if he wanted to go through the screen just to hear your sweet, angelic, melancholic voice. Your voice was like a soft fur blanket to him. He didn't know if he was hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but he swore you were covered by a soft light, hugging your form and kissing your skin gently.

Tim sat in your "presence" for a bit, soaking in your voice. As he listened, memories flooded back. He recalled distant muffled sounds within the thin walls, lulling him to sleep, chasing away the demons that kept him awake at night. He had so desperately wanted to close his eyes and rest, and he remembered thinking maybe it was just a voice in his head, or maybe a real-life angel offering him salvation from suffering and the sweet pleasure of sleep. Now he knew, the angel was called "Y/n."

His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk as he leaned in closer, his breathing steadying as he watched the footage. The realization hit him hard. How had he missed this before? How had he not recognized that comforting voice? The gentle humming, the presence that had brought him solace on sleepless nights—it was all you.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued to watch, his heart aching with a mix of regret and longing. He remembered the nights he had spent tormented by nightmares, the countless times he had struggled to find peace. Your voice had been his lifeline, a beacon of hope in the darkness.

He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. How had he been so blind? How had he not seen the importance of your presence in the manor? Tim's thoughts spiraled as he recalled the moments he had dismissed you, the times he had been too wrapped up in his own world to notice you reaching out. He needed to see you. To hear your voice, to take you back, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness as his forehead kisses the cold, dirty floor, or to maybe steal you back without a word. He didn't know, he just had to see you.

The footage continued to play, your voice a soothing balm to his troubled mind. He sat there, never unwavering, always in awe of your voice and never taking his attention off you. He sat there,Unaware that he had been playing the same footage for hours and hours. His dilated eyes worshipping you as if you were a god.

He felt a deep sense of loss, realizing that you were gone, and he hadn't even had the chance to thank you for all the nights you had unknowingly saved him. Determined, he knew he had to find you. He had to make things right.

After some time, finally. Tim's resolve hardened as he stood up, his eyes never leaving the screen. He would find you, and he would make sure you knew how much you meant to him. With renewed purpose, he left the CCTV room, ready to join Bruce and Dick in their search. Together, they would bring you back and rebuild the bond that had been neglected for far too long.

With much focus on the object of his obsession attention, he failed to notice a tall figure in the shadows, watchin. Thinking after all these years they have finally come to their senses, realizing the greatest gift of all was right under their noses.

Damian was a dangerous person. To be fair, he was raised to be an assassin and an heir to the throne from the moment he was born. Not even a moment out of the womb did he catch a glimpse of the normal life he so desperately wanted. He trained day and night, month after month, year after year, to become the perfect product of the world's greatest detective and the daughter of the king of assassins. Imagine the inner turmoil within him when he didn't meet the expectations set upon his shoulders. All his life, all he knew was to fight. In any situation, his first instinct was to fight and guard himself for his life.

Sometimes, he wondered how they expected a child to lead thousands of assassins to create a bloodbath. Behind his pride and arrogance was a deep-seated anger towards those in charge of his fate. He was furious that his innocence had been stripped away, clawing its way back to him, but ultimately, they succeeded in giving him a future burdened with the weight of guilt for painting the young and innocent red.

Damian's upbringing left him with a constant battle within himself. The expectations placed upon him were immense, and he often felt like he was suffocating under the pressure. The relentless training, the unyielding discipline, and the need to prove himself consumed his every waking moment. The anger he felt was not just directed at those who shaped his fate but also at himself for not being able to escape it. Many didn't know of it but he found it hard to be Robin. The conflict between leaning to your instincts or “your- now- morals” was hard. To kill and to save was wrong and somehow to save and to forgive was right.

Despite his impressive skills and abilities, there was a part of him that longed for something more—something normal. He envied those who lived ordinary lives, free from the burden of bloodshed and violence. He wondered what it would have been like to have a childhood filled with laughter and innocence rather than combat and survival. As to why he wonders what more could you possibly want? He was so sure that you had so much wonderful time living such a luxurious life in the manor and never having to prove yourself to be worthy of something in being able to get the object of your desire. How could you run away from this life? From your life? You were so unfair, so selfish.

As he continued to grapple with these conflicting emotions, Damian's exterior remained cold and guarded. He rarely allowed anyone to see the vulnerable side of him, the side that yearned for a different life. But deep down, the scars of his past lingered, a constant reminder of the life he was forced into and the innocence that was stolen from him.

He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and released a heavy sigh. What a bother. Making his way to every corner of the manor to "inspect" and see if you had left any trace of yourself there. As he walked down the path, letting his bored state guide him, he glanced at the thick walls and noticed some unfamiliar works of art. His gaze roamed around the room, settling on various paintings he had never noticed before. It was as if the paintings spoke for themselves, screaming out for anyone to notice and appreciate them. The different textures, colors, shapes, and stories behind the art captivated him.

Damian liked to think that he noticed everything and had the ability to be highly aware of his surroundings, whether he was familiar with them or not. But at this moment, he paused, questioning himself. If he was truly aware, how had he managed to overlook these breathtaking canvases filled with bright colors that made him... feel things? He took a step forward and saw a tiny signature on the left side of one of the canvases. He brought his hand up to softly caress the painting, gently and carefully, as if he were afraid that a mere touch could destroy it.

Engrossed in admiring the paintings, he failed to notice the tall figure beside him. It was only when the man spoke, "Master Damian," addressing him, that he flinched slightly.

"Ah, Alfred. My apologies, I was a bit distracted by the art adorning the walls, which seems to be... unfamiliar to me. Would you mind telling me where my father keeps buying these paintings? I must say I'm quite... impressed."

Alfred frowned and smiled sadly at the youngest Wayne. "Well, Master Damian, these paintings are actually not your father's doing. Rather, they are Master Y/n's work of art."

Damian's eyes widened in surprise. He turned back to the paintings and said "Y/n did these?" he asked, almost incredulous. The realization that you had created such beautiful and meaningful art struck him deeply. He didn't even know that you could draw much less create such.. Beautiful art. While he was thinking about it he realize that he had complimented you, you!

"Indeed, Master Damian," Alfred confirmed. "Y/n spent countless hours creating these pieces. Each one holds a story, a piece of their heart."

Damian felt a pang of emotion through his chest, he couldn't pinpoint what it was but it was somehow nagging him about something, or rather someone. His fingers traced the brushstrokes with a newfound reverence, as if trying to understand the emotions you had captured on canvas.

"I never knew..." Damian whispered, more to himself than to Alfred. The layers of vibrant colors, the delicate details, and the raw emotions conveyed through your art were all a testament to the depth of your soul. He felt a connection to you that he hadn't realized before, a sense of camaraderie and understanding. And he was totally not dissing you just minutes ago.

Alfred placed a comforting hand on Damian's shoulder. "Art has a way of speaking to us, Master Damian. It reveals truths that words often cannot. Y/n's art is a reflection of their experiences, their joys, and their sorrows. It is a part of them that they have shared with the world."

Damian nodded, taking a step back to fully appreciate the entirety of your work. Your art had opened a door to a deeper connection, and he was willing to walk through it. He didn't know why but in a way this was proof that you had always had some kind of connection to him.

As Damian and Alfred stood there, surrounded by the masterpieces you had created, a sense of resolve settled over Damian. He frowns and takes a look around all the work of your art. His style doesn't differ much from yours. the caress of brush ever so slightly seen, and the emotions behind the soul of your paintings, like his. What made you so similar to him? And that, he will not know until he finds you.

He knew that finding you and bringing you back was not just about making amends—it was about recognizing and celebrating the unique and irreplaceable person you were.

Y/n considered themselves a keen observer, attuned to the delicate nuances of the world around them. They noticed the gentle yet sometimes harsh swaying of the wind as it danced with the leaves, creating a symphony of nature's whispers. They noticed the lady sitting on the park bench, quietly absorbing the view of the home she once grew up in, her memories interwoven with the present. They noticed the ducks by the pond, gracefully gliding through the water alongside their mother, a portrait of serene tranquility.

Y/n noticed everything, yet no one noticed them. And it was fine. They had long accepted this reality, enduring the loneliness of being invisible in a world where they saw so much. The weight of being unnoticed had become a familiar companion, a constant presence that shaped their existence. In the silent spaces between moments, Y/n found solace in their observations, finding beauty in the overlooked and meaning in the mundane.

So why were they just noticing you just now? Why? When you have just started to accept and move on. Why must they bring the horrors of the past when your current life is filled with hope arraying a new journey, now destroyed.

Why couldn’t Dick just let you be, drifting away in the silence you’d crafted? Why couldn’t he leave you to fade quietly, just as you had promised yourself you would, a ghost of your former self, untouched and unbothered? Yet there he was, an ever-present weight, his hands—rough, calloused, scarred by years of untold burdens—forcing your face into the past, as if his touch could rewrite history. His fingers dug into your skin, twisted into the soft contours of your face, tearing through the years of numbness, of denial, dragging you back to a place you had sworn you’d never return.

And then, Tim. Oh, Tim. The boy who once didn’t even see you, who barely even remembered your name when it lingered in the air of the manor. Now, he’s relentless, his fingers tapping into your phone with the same quiet insistence that his presence once had in the dark halls of that place you used to call home. You want to scream, to rip the silence apart, to do anything but feel what you’re feeling now—this suffocating pull to return to them, to face them, even when you know you never should have to again.

The ache swells, the lump in your throat is a tangible thing now, a choking presence you can’t swallow down. It’s the same searing pain that’s lingered, festering, hidden beneath layers of what you pretended was healing. How cruel it is, to have spent so much time trying to break free, only to find that some things, some people, are never quite done with you.

The ghost of them lingers, burrows deeper, with every unanswered message. They still haunt you, even from afar. You hate them for it, for still holding the power to break you open, to make you bleed from places you thought had long scarred over. It feels like a thousand wounds opening up again—slow, deliberate, bleeding you dry in a way you don’t know how to stop.

You stared blankly into the emptiness, feeling numb, when suddenly a hand rested on your shoulder. You flinched instinctively and turned to see who it was. Your eyes widened as you recognized your ballet teacher standing behind you. "Miss Kavinsky! I-I... Hi! I’m—" you stammered, but she quickly cut you off with a smile.

"Y/N L/N-Wayne, I know," she said with a warm tone. "It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you."

You winced slightly, the sound barely audible, but Miss Kavinsky didn’t seem to notice. "Come on, let’s meet the other dancers. I’m sure they’re eager to meet you."

The surprise hit you hard, and you stuttered, "M-me?" You couldn’t help but feel like an idiot.

She grinned, a playful mix of amusement and mild disbelief on her face. "Yes, you. You're kind of a celebrity here, Wayne. Not surprised with a talent like yours."

Her words lingered in the air, but you went quiet, caught off guard by the compliment. You couldn’t fully process it, the idea of anyone looking up to you seemed so foreign, so distant. And somewhere in the haze, you barely registered the way she had called you "Wayne.”

As you and the other dancers gathered at the stage, a wave of anxiety washed over you. The weight of thoughts about Tim and Dick pressed heavily on your mind, and the pressure of the moment only made it worse. Just as your mind started to spiral, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Hey! You're Y/N, right? I'm Desiree, but you can just call me Des."

You forced a smile, barely hearing Miss Kavinsky as her voice faded into the background, announcing something about attendance. Your attention was now solely focused on Des, who had just broken the ice. You shook her hand and smiled more genuinely, the tension in your body loosening up a bit.

"Hi, Des. Yeah, you already know who I am. Nice to meet you."

You both exchanged a quiet laugh, and the chatter around you faded as you continued talking. For a moment, you felt like you could breathe again. You asked the usual questions: "How old are you?" "What's your favorite ballet?" The conversation flowed easily, but when your name was suddenly called for attendance, you were snapped back to reality.

"Here!" you called out, your voice getting lost in the sea of dancers.

But then Des said something that made you freeze.

"So, are you excited that both of you are here?" she asked with a playful giggle, her smile sweet and innocent.

You blinked, confused, but smiled through it. "Both of us...?" you repeated, trying to follow along.

Des chuckled softly at your puzzled expression. "You and your sister, silly! It must be so nice to perform together. My brother wouldn't even try to get into ballet, you know?"

Her words, lighthearted as they were, suddenly made your world feel like it was crashing down around you. You felt a cold panic begin to rise. Your fingers instinctively dug into your palms, almost drawing blood. Your smile wavered, barely holding on, while your eyes fluttered, teetering on the edge of tears. Des’s voice became distant, her words fading into a muffled blur as your thoughts spiraled out of control, bloodshot eyes starting to sting with unshed tears. Your heart raced, and the chaos inside you was too much to contain.

In that very moment, her name echoed through the air, sharp and clear. Without thinking, your gaze shifted, and you locked eyes with her. Her wide, unblinking stare pierced through the noise, anchoring you in place. For a fleeting second, you wondered if she had been watching you all along—since the instant your name was called, or perhaps even before. You couldn't be sure.

What you did know, however, was that the weight of her gaze felt like a force, pulling you into a quiet abyss. It made you feel small, fragile—as if you were prey beneath the steady, unyielding gaze of a predator. A shiver ran through you, and suddenly, all you wanted was to escape, to flee from the suffocating intensity of her eyes, which seemed to strip away every layer of protection you had left.

The fates were clearly playing with you now.

Cassandra was an exceptionally gifted individual, much like her siblings, each of whom possessed their own unique abilities. From the moment she first pursued ballet, her family showered her with unwavering love and support. She had access to training that most could only dream of—privileges afforded to her not because of her wealth, but because she was no ordinary person. She was Batgirl, the daughter of Batman by choice, a mantle she wore with pride. So, when an invitation arrived for her to join the prestigious Swan Lake performance alongside other top-tier dancers, it hardly came as a surprise. After all, excellence was something she had always embraced, both on the stage and off.

As she gets ready for her first rehearsal she can't help but notice that some of her siblings are missing. She shook it off and ate her food but also not abandoning the thought of asking about the absence of her siblings and father, to a familiar companion of their family:Alfred. As where Alfred only replies with them being busy about.. Something, yet said to her to fret not and just worry her mind about her ballet play, quickly chasing away her concerns for her family with a smile that made her feel lighthearted. With a chuckle she got up and made her way to the location of where the dancers were told to meet.

Cass had always believed she was the only one in her family who truly appreciated the delicate artistry of ballet. Her passion for the graceful movements, the precision of each step, and the beauty of the performances had always felt like a private world to her, a world she inhabited alone. She couldn’t recall a single moment where anyone in her family shared even the slightest interest in it. So, when she entered the crowded theater that evening, expecting to be surrounded only by fellow ballet enthusiasts, she was taken aback by something unexpected.

Amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, she spotted you. For a fleeting moment, her heart skipped a beat, not from the rush of seeing someone in the crowd, but from an overwhelming sense of familiarity that washed over her. There you were, standing like a ghost from a forgotten past, an unexplainable connection sparking between you both. Cass couldn’t place it, but it was as though she had known you forever, even though your paths had never crossed before.

Her mind wandered, replaying the memories that had been buried deep within her. A distant image flashed across her thoughts: she was standing in a room filled with soft, pastel-colored fabrics, the scent of leather and polish hanging in the air. Two pairs of pointe shoes rested beside one another on the floor—one was familiar, worn and well-loved, the other brand new, the laces still fresh and untangled. The second pair, the one that felt entirely foreign, immediately piqued her curiosity. She was certain it wasn’t hers, yet the connection to it lingered, something so subtle but undeniable.

The realization hit her like a wave. She didn’t know you, not consciously, but somehow she felt bound to you, as if fate had woven your lives together in some strange, invisible thread long before either of you had even been aware of it.

The entire day she watched and observed you. She paid extra attention to every detail of your expressions, body language, and posture. She didn't know why but you seemed to be very clear–in her case, in distress, like you were panicking over something. And she didn't know why she somehow hated seeing you that way. As the minutes passed, she found herself simply just staring at you. Not even for a fleeting moment had she taken her gaze of you. She watched and observed tensely at every person who looks at you, who talks to you, who breathes near you. Almost as if she was guarding you. As they were told to gather she followed silently after the crowd and placed herself purposely in front of the other side from you. She scoffs in amusement as you barely notice her, too focused on your own little world. As minutes continued to pass, suddenly a girl broke you out of her thoughts with her voice making you flinch. Her breath hitched as irritation started to crawl their way through her chest. Why couldn't the girl be more gentle with you? Can't she see that you were clearly stressed? She frowns slightly at the girl, surprising herself by the sudden change of mood. She holds her breath and watches you like a hawk would at its prey. Her vision was filled with your now loosen frame, giggling with the girl who approached you earlier. A new feeling started to claw its way through her chest, now bigger and stronger. The green monster eating her up when suddenly the call of her voice brought her out of her thoughts as she, for a moment took her eyes off of you to answer quietly to her name and as she bring back her gaze to you, quickly to not miss anything she might take the pleasure in seeing, suddenly your eyes are on her too. Her eyes couldn't leave the sight of your gaze who held such horror in them, as if seeing her was too much for you. As she was your living nightmare sitting right in front of you.

The remaining time the dancers practiced, you avoided her gaze and her presence. The more you avoided her, the more she itched to be in your presence alone, to be near you. The whole time at the practice she was, for the first time, distracted. Her thoughts are consumed by you. Her thoughts came up with every question she could ask about her and your current situation. What were you doing here? Why didn't she know? Were you at the manor? No, if you were she would've known.. Right? Okay if you weren't, then why weren't you? Those questions alone made her uneasy and frustrated. As it was time to go home, she watched as you hurriedly got out and quickly went home to wherever your home was. The nagging feeling screamed at her to follow you but decided against it and thought that going home and bringing the news to her family might help more. After all, they were stronger together.

She stormed into the manor, urgency in her every step, and sought out Alfred with a single, breathless demand: "Boys. Where?" Without hesitation, he led her to them. Her gaze fell upon them, intense and unyielding, her pupils trembling with an unspoken storm. She whispered a single name, a breathless, haunting utterance: "Y/N." The boys, in unison, responded, "We know."

A deep breath escaped her, the weight of their actions—venturing after you without so much as a word—forgotten for the moment. She snatched a laptop, her fingers flying over the keys in a frantic dance of their own. The screen flickered to life, revealing a video that stole the breath from the room. There you were, dancing—each movement a testament to grace, each step more captivating than the last.

The world had already fallen under your spell. The internet buzzed with adoration, praising the way your every turn, every leap, every pause held the audience in thrall. Under the stage lights, you seemed more than human—a celestial being, your form bathed in soft light, glowing like an ethereal angel, kissed by the very air around you. The boys stood frozen, their gaze fixed upon you, entranced.

Your presence was no illusion. You were a goddess of their own making, and in that moment, they knew: they were already devoted, bound by the silent understanding that they would worship you, body and soul.

As the video played, the room fell into a hushed reverence. The boys, once brimming with urgency and tension, now stood motionless, their eyes locked onto the screen, as if spellbound. Every fluid movement you made seemed to breathe life into the very air around them. They couldn’t look away; they didn’t want to. Your every step, every pirouette, was poetry in motion, a delicate balance of strength and grace that made their hearts race.

The way you arched your back mid-spin, the soft brush of your fingertips against your skin, the quiet breath you took before every leap—it all drew them in, slowly, methodically, as though they were witnessing something far beyond the ordinary. Each turn of your body mirrored the very rhythm of their own hearts, synchronized with the ethereal pulse of the music, and they couldn’t help but feel as if the entire world had narrowed down to this one sacred moment.

Your eyes, though focused on the stage, seemed to flicker with a spark of something far deeper, something they couldn't quite place but could almost taste. It was like watching a dream unfold, where every movement became a metaphor—each glide across the stage spoke to something eternal, something untouchable. They found themselves lost in the elegance of your form, the way your body seemed to move with a natural fluidity that defied the laws of physics.

The lights above you softened, caressing your silhouette, painting you in a divine glow. And in that moment, they felt small, insignificant even, as if you had been carved out of stardust itself, too perfect to comprehend, yet impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the skill of your dance—it was your presence, your essence that held them captive.

They felt an almost primal pull, as though your every movement was speaking directly to their souls. The way your body spoke without words—your elegance and power blending seamlessly—rendered them speechless. They were entranced by the aura you carried, intoxicated by your beauty and the mystery you exuded, a beauty that wasn’t merely skin-deep but radiated from within, a force of nature.

For a fleeting moment, they could almost believe that you were more than human, that you were something higher, something divine. They stood there, wide-eyed and breathless, as if they had been granted a glimpse of something sacred—something that no one else could understand. And in that moment, they knew that they would follow you, worship you, in a devotion that transcended mere admiration. You weren’t just captivating; you were everything. They couldn't believe that someone like you had been overlooked by then.

Bruce now understands that with no plan in mind he would still follow you till the end of the earth. Oh his little baby. He would do anything to earn your love and affection for him. To see you and to bask under the ray of sunshine your smile brings. To feel your presence alone.

Dick now understands that he owes you more than a few dinners or dates as siblings. No. He owes you the world. As guilt eats his flesh up one by one, mourning all the versions of you that he could have witnessed right before his eyes are now long gone. But that's okay, he'll make it up to you.

Tim now understands that you were surely his angel. His savior. His form of salvation. He could watch you all day and never get bored. He could listen to you all day until his ears bled but never say a word.

Damian now understands that the disbelief he felt when looking at your paintings full of emotions overflowing with a sense of overwhelming feel, was now long gone because he knew that only such being like you, almost like a supernatural being, could be the only one who has the ability to capture such deep emotions in one painting, to be able to create such beautiful, breathtaking object.

Cassandra now understands why she felt like she somehow had a connection to you and that was because she was your sister. And as she was a daughter to batman by choice, that she will also be a sister by choice to you. She was an observer, someone who guards-and she will guard you with her life for all eternity.

As the overwhelming tension fills the room Alfred stands at the corner with a small smile. “apologies master y/n had I done this sooner, you would have not slipped through my grasp dear child. Do not fret for your family is coming to get you.”

Ah, Alfred, the mastermind. He knew this would happen. He just needed to intertwine a little. He did not worry because he knew. He knew that leaving your bedroom door open the moment he knew Dick was coming over to the manor while the others were busy, and knowing Dick's tendency to wander off in the vast expanse of Wayne Manor, the chances of him finding your room were high. He knew that rearranging your trophies inside your room (which you had told him to get rid of) would pique the interest of your family even more. He knew that decorating your hidden paintings around the minimalist and empty walls of the house would catch the attention of the youngest Wayne. He knew that playing those soft melodies of your voice through the small TV in the kitchen would enchant a certain sleep-deprived boy, making him miss the sweet sound of your voice.

Alfred knew that when Cassandra was called for the big ballet play, you would be at the same play too, as you had told him over the phone, giggling and excited with a high-pitched voice. He didn't bother to tell you about your sister's similar invitation, nor did he inform your sister about yours. He knew every single detail, every thread that needed to be woven together to create this intricate tapestry of reconnection.

Alfred's wisdom was like a silent symphony, orchestrating events with a delicate touch. He understood the nuances of each family member, their strengths, their weaknesses, and their desires. He knew that Dick's curiosity would lead him to your room, where the trophies would spark memories and questions. He knew that Damian's keen eye for detail would be drawn to the vibrant paintings, each brushstroke a testament to your hidden talents. He knew that Tim, in his sleep-deprived state, would be captivated by the melodies of your voice, a soothing balm to his restless mind.

Alfred's heart ached with the knowledge of your absence, but he also held hope. Hope that these carefully placed breadcrumbs would lead your family back to you, to the realization of what they had lost and the determination to make amends. He knew that the path to reconciliation was not an easy one, but it was a journey worth taking.

As the days passed, Alfred watched with a knowing smile as the pieces began to fall into place. He saw the flicker of recognition in Dick's eyes, the softening of Damian's demeanor, and the spark of determination in Tim's gaze. He knew that the seeds he had planted were beginning to grow, and soon, the family would be whole again.

Alfred was getting old and he couldn't bare the vision of his children Bruce and you, drifting away from each other, and you from him. Maybe it was his own selfish reason but he couldn't help it. He raised you from the moment you got to the manor. Teached you everything he knew and gave you all the love he could. He watched you grew up and maybe it was a moment of rush that he allowed himself to be selfish and turn the tables around.

In the quiet moments, Alfred allowed himself a moment of reflection. He thought of you, the child who had brought so much light into his life. He knew that you deserved to be seen, to be cherished, and to be loved. And he would do everything in his power to ensure that you found your way back to the family that needed you just as much as you needed them.

Authors note: I'm sorry I took so long in writing this! I hope yall enjoy the 10k+ words I wrote. One tip tho is to read and observe the details very carefully! Dw I'm gonna explain it soon tho. Hope yall enjoy this cuz imma take a break after this.

#batfam x batbro #yandere batfam #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #yandere batboys #batfam #neglected reader #amfstargirl #Spotify

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 2 days ago

Text

The Return of Superman- Jaemin

(cw: f!reader called “mama”, children)

Jaemin liked his privacy. He liked knowing that only certain parts of his life were shown, certain parts he shared, he liked having the clear distinction or public and private. He, of course, enjoyed providing content for his fans and living a dream that millions of people could only dream of.

He got the best of both worlds. He got to date you for a good few years without getting caught, he'd spent two years of newlywed marital bliss with you with only so much as a statement from his company to let the world know that he was a married man. When he was asked about you, his wife, he merely smiled and expertly evaded answering. So how did he get himself here?

What had happened in his years of famous privacy to now allow a whole camera crew into his home to film him and his daughters-- who, no one had even seen since they were posted with obscured faces in a birth announcement post 3 years ago?!

It had definitely been his management that suggested he do the show, they planted the seed in his brain, but it was you who pushed him to do it! "Come on, my love, the fans will love it. You can do just one episode and then the girls won't be seen until their 30! Come on, it'll be fun," You'd convinced him. And Jaemin, well, he wasn't a strong man when his wife was whispering so sweetly in his ear and pressing even sweeter kisses against his cheeks.

So that's how he got into this mess, at least he would have you to help him out... right, he wouldn't. Damn this show!

"Would you stop rubbing your head against the pillow, please?! Appa just did your hair!" Jaemin yelled in exasperation, his eyes locked on the three year old who for some reason was rubbing her head across the pillows on his bed. Meanwhile, his hands were preoccupied with the identical girl standing on a stool right in front of him.

"Well, what an introduction to the Na family," a commentator laughs while they all watch Jaemin struggle to pull one of his daughter's hair into a bun while simultaneously also trying to sweet talk the other twin to stop being a menace. He was unsuccessful.

The scene cuts to show Jaemin sitting in front of a black backdrop smiling at the cameras as he introduces himself, "Hello, I'm Na Jaemin from NCT. I have twin daughters, Taera and Sora. They're both 3 years and 5 months old and the light of my life-- along with my wife, of course. Taera is the older of the two and struggles with listening, at least to me while Sora is the better listener of the two."

The producer behind the camera asks a question and Jaemin listens intently before answering, "honestly, of the two of us, I'm the parent that let's the girls get away with a lot. She plays the authoritarian role, which admittedly, I struggle with. The girls are just too cute to get mad at!" He takes a break to think over his answer, "I do think it will be a little difficult with it being just me and the girls. Usually my wife and I are each responsible for one of the girls, and we rarely go out just one of us with both of them. It will be very interesting to see how this plays out."

The scene cuts to a scene of the toddlers running around the living room, hair done in tiny buns on top of their head, looking messy, though no one can tell whether that's from their running around or their dad's lack of skill. Jaemin can be seen scrambling around the kitchen filling matching purple and pink water bottles with water and tossing snacks into the bags.

"I wonder what Jaemin is getting the girls ready for..." One of the commentators adds as the girls play tag with each other, giggling wildly.

There's nothing telling quite yet, both girls are wearing matching pastel pink shirts and pink sweat pants with white socks. Jaemin wrestles them into sweaters, then their backpacks, and finally their matching Crocs. He holds one twin on each hip, making his way to the car to load them into car seats.

"Wow! He's a professional! Look at the way he carries both of them at once!" A commentator exclaims in wonder.

"Wait a second, this song sounds familiar," Another commentator adds quickly. The panel quiets down, all eyes locked on the screen to watch the girls dance around in their car seats.

"Chew-chew-chew-chew chewing gum! Chew-chew-chew-chew," the girls chant, legs kicking out as they wiggle and dance in their chairs. They look so happy, smiles plastered on their faces and Jaemin, he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else right now. His face is set in a mild frown, listening to this repetitive song that he made when he was 16.

The scene changes, showing Jaemin helping one of the girls into a tutu while the other, who is already dressed, twirls around laughing as her skirt flares out. "Oh my! The girls are in ballet! How cute!" One of the producers coos.

Jaemin can be seen sitting in front of the black screen once more. "Oh yes, the girls are trying out ballet. We want to get them more involved in other activities and find some way to get their energy out. They're not very... good yet, but it is only their third lesson. I think Sora might be more of a ballerina in the future, and maybe Taera will be better at something more... energetic."

True to his word, the scene cuts to show a very focused Sora following her dance teacher's instructions. Her arms are posed in front of her while in the first position. She listens intently and copies the teacher's moves, she wiggles her feet out until they point outward and extends her arm.

"Good job, Sora. That's perfect!" The teacher praises softly. Sora giggles excitedly, a blush spreading across her small, chubby cheeks.

On the opposite end of the room, her twin is jumping and reaching for the small window that allows parents to look into the small studio. Jaemin is busy taking pictures of Sora among other adoring parents to send to you when he hears a familiar sound, even muffled he'd know that sound anywhere. He casts his eyes down and catches Taera with tears in her eyes and red cheeks with her arms reaching for the window.

Jaemin jumps into action quickly, moving his way through the small group of parents around the window and enters the small room with a look of concern on his face. Taera has never reacted like this before. He pulls Taera into a hug, calming her down until her tears have stopped. He sends an apologetic smile to the teacher and she sends him a small bat of her hand as if to say, 'it's fine.' Jaemin cups Taera's face, wiping away her remaining tears with the pads of his thumbs, "princess, what's wrong?"

She lets out a shuddery breath, her tiny chest trembling while she tries to breathe in a deep breath, "I want Mama to watch me too."

Jaemin feels his heart break, pouting sympathetically at his daughter, "I want her to be here too, princess, but she'll be back before you know it. Tomorrow we can wake up early and make breakfast for her when she gets back. How does that sound?"

"With berries?" Taera asks with wide eyes.

Jaemin laughs softly, booping the girl's nose, "yes, with berries. Now, go be a good big sister and dance with Sora. We can't leave her alone can we?"

"No," She smiles, turning to run to her sister's side before she comes bounding back to Jaemin. She presses a kiss to Jaemin's cheek, "love you, Appa. Stay with us?"

Like Jaemin said, he can never say no to them. Instead of joining the rest of the parents on the other side of the small window, he finds himself following along with the teacher's instructions behind the rest of the children in the class.

His daughter's turn to look at him with the biggest smiles he's ever seen. They're so excited that he's in class with him and even more so, doing the dances with them!

The commentators coo at the scene, gushing over Jaemin being such a good dad. He raises his arms, drops them, extends them forward, and situates his feet into the right positions to follow along with the teacher.

At the very end of the episode and his girls sit in front of the black backdrop. The girls raise their arms over their heads, forming the biggest hearts their little bodies will allow. In unison, all three Na's scream out, "we love you Mama!"

Jaemin leans forward, getting close to the camera with his arms wrapped around the twins to keep them from falling, "you're not allowed to leave me alone with these monsters ever again!"

The girls giggles persist as the episode fades away, a faint, "but Appa you said we're princesses."

"Yes, baby I did say that. You're like monster princesses, do you like that?"

The girls can be heard screaming a loud, "no!" in perfect harmony.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct drabbles #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin x reader #jaemin fic #jaemin fluff #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x you

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eclipixels · 2 days ago

Text

Casual

Characters: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage

Content: "Casual relationship with the boys but it’s just you getting ahead of yourself and planning to talk to them about getting serious until you saw a headline about 'your' man going official with another lady." - @captainshindo

Isagi

You weren’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Isagi Yoichi was never officially yours, not in the way that mattered. Sure, he kissed you like you were the only person in the world, pulled you into his arms like he had no intention of letting go, and whispered things at night that made your stomach flip. But there had never been a label.

It was fine. You were fine. Until you saw the headline.

"Blue Lock’s Rising Star Isagi Yoichi Goes Official With Mystery Beauty!"

Your stomach dropped. The article featured blurry paparazzi shots of him with some woman—her face obscured, but her hand was clearly clutching his wrist. You read every line, dissecting every word like it held the key to your survival of your heart. The journalist speculated, fans freaked out, and suddenly, it felt like the whole world was deciding where Isagi’s heart belonged.

Except, no one had asked you.

You slammed your phone down, anger bubbling up, not just at him but at yourself. You had been ready, so ready, to have the talk, to define what this thing between you really was. But now? What was the point?

When Isagi came home later, he immediately noticed something was off.

"You’re mad at me."

"Really?” You scoffed.

"Yeah, you are." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Is this about the article? I have no idea who that woman even was, I’m pretty sure it was a fan."

Your eyes snapped to him. He looked guilty. Good.

"Why would I care?" you asked, voice tight. "We’re not dating, right? I mean, not really. So why should I care?"

His heart cracked when you said that. Did this mean nothing to you? Truth be told, he was planning to talk to you soon about your relationship. He wanted to be yours officially, now he feels dumb for not doing it sooner. Because now, his baby’s heart was broken and he didn’t know how to fix it.

�� "Come on, you know that’s not—"

"Not what? Not true?"

And it wasn’t like he could just announce to the world that he was taken. Right? But still, he could’ve done something. At least that's what you told yourself.

Isagi sat in bed that night, phone in hand, searching for ways to subtly (or not-so-subtly) let people know he was taken.

What he found was… questionable.

“Give her your hoodie, post her on your story, make it obvious.”

Okay. Normal enough. What else, though? He wanted to do something more than that.

“Hickeys are the ultimate mark of possession.”

His face burned. He thought about it for half a second, then realized they were temporary. That wasn’t enough.

And then he saw it.

A tattoo. Permanent. Undeniable. Forever.

It was impulsive, but so was he.

Isagi came home, a slight wince on his face as he rolled his shoulder as he began experiencing the weak symptoms of a tattoo flu.

"Hey."

You barely looked up from your phone.

He hovered for a second, then sighed dramatically. "You’re still mad."

Silence.

"Okay, well, can you at least look at me?"

With an exaggerated eye-roll, you glanced up and immediately did a double take.

"What the hell is that?" you asked, pointing at the fresh ink on the side of his neck.

Bold, black letters. Your name. Right there for the world to see.

"A tattoo," he said casually, like he hadn’t just done the most insane thing in history.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. "No, yeah, I can see that. Why?"

Isagi scratched the back of his head, suddenly sheepish. "Well, I wanted people to know I’m taken."

"That’s the way you went about it?"

"Yeah, but this way, they can’t argue about it." He grinned, a little too pleased with himself.

“Check my socials” He said with a smug expression. You gave him a puzzled but cautious look as you slowly opened your social media.

He posted you. Not just that, he put your name in his bio with a heart emoji.

You blinked. Slowly.

"You’re insane."

"Maybe." He stepped closer, tilting his head with a smirk. "But now you can’t say I’m not serious."

“That is a good picture of us,” You hummed, squealing on the inside at the gesture. He really did that.

“Match bios with me before it looks like I’m embarrassing myself.” He said sternly and you laughed, your eyes falling past from his lips to the fresh tattoo on his neck.

“That’s permanent”

“So is this,” He smiled slyly, pulling you in for a kiss.

Damn him. Damn him and his stupid, reckless, insanely hot commitment.

You exhaled, shaking your head. "You’re lucky I love you, Isagi Yoichi."

That was the first time you said those words to him. I love you.

"I know. I love you too.” He grinned. Yeah, and so does the whole world know now too.

Bachira

You weren’t the type to rush into things.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself when you first started seeing Bachira Meguru. It had been casual, fun, and effortless. The kind of relationship where dates blurred into late-night calls, where teasing turned into lingering touches, and where stolen kisses didn’t come with strings attached. You liked him. A lot. Maybe too much.

That was the problem.

You told yourself it was just fun. That the way he’d tug you close after a match, sweat still dripping from his bangs, meant nothing. The way he sent you voice notes about the most random things, like how the vending machine near his training center always stole his coins. It wasn’t anything special.

But you wanted more. And after weeks of convincing yourself it wasn’t just one-sided, you’d decided it was time to have the conversation. The ‘what are we?’ talk. The ‘I think I want to be with you officially’ talk.

You had it all planned out. You’d meet him after practice, maybe go for a walk, maybe grab something to eat. You’d be subtle about it, ease into it the way you always did with him. No pressure. No big declarations.

Then, fate decided to punch you in the gut.

Your phone screen lit up with a notification, the kind you usually ignored. But the name caught your eye. Bachira Meguru.

It wasn’t a text. It wasn’t even a message from him. It was a headline. A big, bold, soul-crushing headline plastered across a sports gossip site.

“Blue Lock Star Bachira Meguru Goes Official with Rising Model Hana Yoshida!”

The article was filled with pictures, ones you’d never seen before. Bachira with his arm draped over her shoulders, grinning like he had no worries in the world. Her hand playfully on his chest. Them standing too close, their body language screaming intimacy.

You stared at your phone, the weight of your own naivety sinking in.

Had he ever mentioned her? No.

Had he ever given you any reason to believe it was just you? Also no.

You had assumed. And that was your mistake.

The realization was sobering. The night before, he had sent you a voice note about his latest match, his usual excited rambling filling your ears. It felt normal. Easy. Safe. But now, the words rang hollow in your memory, like they belonged to a different story altogether.

You inhaled sharply and forced a laugh, the sound bitter in your own ears.

Wasn’t this a blessing in disguise? If you had spoken to him any sooner, you would’ve made a fool of yourself.

Dodged a bullet. Saved yourself from embarrassment.

You locked your phone and tossed it onto the couch, letting out a long breath. Maybe it was time to let go of the idea of ‘what could’ve been’ and accept what was staring you in the face.

Bachira Meguru was never yours to begin with.

You had ignored his calls. His texts. His voice notes. Bachira was starting to panic. Had he done something wrong? Had he messed up what you two had, without even realizing it?

The overwhelming feelings he had for you were impossible to express, no matter how hard he tried. He never quite knew the right words, but he knew this. He couldn’t lose you. After years of isolation, of feeling like no one truly understood him, you had come into his life. You got him. And now, the thought of that slipping away, of you slipping away, was unbearable.

So, in the dead of night, with anxiety clawing at his chest, Bachira showed up at your door. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand, a bag of your favorite snacks in the other, and an apology for whatever the hell it was he had done to make you pull away. He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, but he knew he couldn’t stand this silence between you two any longer.

When he stood there, nervously shifting from foot to foot, the words he blurted out took you by surprise, and all the anger you had been holding onto melted away in an instant.

“Are you breaking up with me or something? What did I do?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Meguru, you really don’t know? You didn’t see the articles and— wait, you thought we’re together?”

“Well, yeah," he said, frowning, his eyes wide with confusion. "I’m your boyfriend, right? Or did… Oh no, did I assume wrong?” He looked at you in a mix of worry and uncertainty, and something in your chest tightened. He looked so lost, so vulnerable, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy.

“No, no, it’s not that,” you said quickly, trying to explain. “I just saw you with that model, and I thought—”

“It was for a commercial for Chris Prince’s brand,” he interrupted, his expression softening slightly. “Wait… people are thinking it’s more than that?”

“The article says it’s official,” you said, biting your lip, unsure how to explain the confusion that had swept over you.

He froze, processing what you said, then his face shifted to a mix of disbelief and determination. “The hell? No, no way. I’m fixing that. But first,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours, “I need to fix this.” The cool night air swirled around him, his features glowing in the soft light, giving him an almost ethereal quality.

You blinked, momentarily speechless.

He stepped closer, leaning in as he looked into your eyes with such intensity that you couldn’t look away. “We are together. Yes?”

You felt your heart race. “Okay,” you answered, the tension in your body easing with the words.

Without another word, Bachira leaned in and kissed you. Soft, sweet, but with a warmth that melted away any remaining uncertainty. When he pulled back, he glanced up at you with a shy grin.

“Good. Can I, uh, come in?”

You blinked again stunned from the kiss before quickly stepping aside. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, come in!”

Chigiri

Chigiri was great—amazing, even. Every moment spent with him was effortless. The two of you didn’t define things; it was simple. Casual. Late night skin care dates, movies, shopping, boba. No pressure, no expectations. Or so you thought. But somewhere between laughing over late-night games and the quiet mornings at his apartment, you’d started to wish for more. You didn’t just want him in your life—you wanted him. And not just as a casual companion, but as someone who would be there in the long run. So, you had decided to talk to him about taking things a step further.

You reread your draft one more time.

“Hey, Hyoma. I know we’ve been having a lot of fun, but... I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I think I’m ready for something more serious. What do you think?”

You bit your lip, ready to send it, but then the familiar buzz of a notification caught your attention. A headline. Your eyes widened in disbelief.

“Hyoma Chigiri Goes Official with Miku Takeda”

Your breath caught. The picture accompanying the article was of Chigiri, smiling brightly beside a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a radiant expression. She looked happy. And he was happy, too. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the wave of disappointment, but it was too much. The words blurred before your eyes as a dull ache settled deep in your chest.

You blinked rapidly, trying to piece everything together. You two hadn’t exactly made anything official, sure, but... hadn’t the connection felt special? You had been special, hadn’t you? There had been nights spent tangled in each other’s arms, mornings where you stayed in bed a little too long, stealing kisses between sleepy grins.

A dark thought crept in, taunting you, Was he even serious about me?

Without thinking, you grabbed your things, leaving the coffee shop in a daze. The cold wind bit at your skin, but you barely noticed. You didn’t know what you were feeling anymore. You had imagined a future with him, and now it was slipping through your fingers like sand.

The next day, the confusion still gnawed at you. It was hard to focus on anything other than the image of Chigiri standing next to someone else. The woman was probably sweet, charming, someone who could give him everything you could never offer. Was that why he hadn’t wanted to make things official? You were a fool to have expected more.

You were lost in your thoughts when your phone buzzed again. A text from him.

“Hey, can I see you later?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You stared at the message, reading it over and over. He wanted to see you? What could he possibly want to talk about?

It wasn’t long before you heard a knock on your apartment door. You hesitated for a moment before opening it, only to find Chigiri standing there, his usual calm expression now tinged with uncertainty. His eyes softened when he saw you.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I can't,” you replied, trying to sound neutral, but your voice wavered.

“Why?”

“I have to um, walk my pet fish.” You gave a poor excuse.

“Princess, you don’t have a fish.” He bluntly said, giving you a pointed look. Your heart fluttered at the nickname. Why was he here? Why was he calling you that? Why was he playing with you like this? You defeatedly let him in, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on you. There was an awkward silence between you two. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly unsure of where to start.

“You saw the article, didn’t you” he said finally, his tone a little more serious.

You nodded, avoiding his gaze. “I did. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

“I am,” He said defensively and you gave him a confused look. Was he here to break your heart all over again?

“If that's all you came here to say then—”

“You.” He interrupted you. “It’s you. I’m serious about you.”

“What?”

“It’s not what you think,” he replied quickly, his voice tense. “That woman in the photo, she was just a fan who asked to take a picture. Nothing more. I don’t know how that rumor even got started.”

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood through you. Of course, you hadn’t asked him about her. You’d just jumped to conclusions, letting insecurity take hold of you.

“Oh.” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice.

Chigiri ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself. “No, this is my fault. I should’ve made it clear our relationship so you’d never have to feel this way.” His eyes softened as he stepped closer to you. “But what I’m saying is, I’ve only been focused on you.”

Your heart skipped in your chest, and you met his gaze at last. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his eyes.

“Yeah, um, me too.” You awkwardly answered, suddenly feeling small under his gaze.

“Can I be your boyfriend? Officially?”

“Yes.”

Rin

You had always known that Rin Itoshi wasn’t the type for deep emotions. His cool demeanor, sharp gaze, and the way he carried himself on and off the field. it all screamed that he was in control, always. And when you found yourself in a casual relationship with him, it was easy to slip into that mindset.

For weeks, it had been nothing more than stolen moments. Quiet, private conversations after practice, a few casual dinners here and there, and the occasional late-night texts. You were often there for him during his more emotional problems. You knew Rin wasn’t big on showing affection, and in return, you respected his boundaries. But in the back of your mind, you started to wonder if there was something more. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself, but you couldn’t help it. Every time he looked at you, there was a flicker of something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to share.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You were enjoying the moments you shared with him, and that was enough, right? But as the days went by, something inside you told you that you wanted more. You had no idea how he would respond, but the thought of asking had you nervous.

You planned it all out. You’d wait for the perfect moment, maybe after one of his matches when his energy was high, and then you’d talk. Just the two of you, no distractions. You’d explain how you felt.You hoped he wouldn’t brush you off, maybe, just maybe, he’d feel the same way.

But of course, life had a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expected them.

It all started on a random afternoon when you were scrolling through your phone. You were at home, taking a much-needed break from work and from your thoughts of Rin. The screen flickered to a news headline that made your stomach drop.

"Rin Itoshi Goes Public with New Girlfriend—Is the Blue Lock Star Finally Settling Down?"

Your eyes went wide, and your heart skipped a beat. There, on your screen, was a picture of Rin and a woman, someone you had never seen before.

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. Your mind raced as you scrolled through the article, each sentence tightening the knot in your stomach.

Was this it? Had you been just a casual fling for him all along? Was this the end of whatever bond you thought you had? The thought of Rin moving on with someone else. Someone so glamorous and perfect for him, of course. It lleft you feeling small and foolish. You had been planning to have that conversation, and now, it felt like everything was too late.

With trembling fingers, you dropped your phone on the couch and buried your face in your hands. It was the ultimate slap to your pride, the crushing reality that your feelings were never going to be returned the way you had hoped.

What had you been thinking? You had let yourself get carried away, fantasizing about something more than what was real. You had never asked him where you stood, and now it was too late to fix it. You laughed bitterly at yourself, feeling the sting of embarrassment.

The next day, you avoided Rin. You weren’t ready to confront him, not yet—not with the painful sting of the news still so fresh in your mind. It hurt more than you expected, this grief, and you needed space to think. You decided to take a walk, but somehow, your feet led you to the one place you always went when you were hurt—a quiet pond tucked away near the park.

You hadn’t expected to find him there.

As soon as you spotted him, your breath caught in your throat. You froze, a sharp pang of discomfort settling in your chest. You considered turning and walking away before he noticed you, but it was too late. He saw you.

"Y/n..." Rin's voice broke through the silence, and there was something in his tone that made you pause. Relief. You didn’t know how to explain it, but it was unmistakable.

You took a step back, instinctively wanting to retreat, but he caught it. Panic flashed in his eyes, and the urgency in his voice grew. “Don’t go.”

You stood still, unsure of what to say or do, as he closed the distance between you. The cool air felt heavier with the weight of the moment. Rin’s usual composure was gone. He looked almost vulnerable as he started to speak again.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it before. “The woman in that article... I’ve known her for a while, but we’re not dating. It was just a misunderstanding.”

You blinked, your mind racing to process his words. "Oh... okay."

You didn’t know how to respond. The silence stretched between you, thick with all the things unsaid. Now didn’t feel like the right time to voice your feelings, not with everything still so raw.

Rin seemed to sense your hesitation, though. He took a deep breath, his gaze steady but intense. "I think... we should be together."

Your heart skipped, confused by the sudden shift. "What?"

“I don’t like the thought of us not being together,” he continued, his voice firm yet vulnerable. He was a mess. His emotions were all over the place. He was so scared of messing this up with you. “So, will you...?”

You blinked again, unsure if you heard him correctly. “You’re asking me to be your girlfriend?”

His expression softened, the edges of his usual coldness melting away. “I am.”

�� You hesitated, the doubts swirling in your mind. "I don’t want to get hurt."

Rin stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that took you by surprise. “I promise, I won’t do that to you.”

You took a shaky breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Okay."

As soon as you responded, he shocked you with a chaste kiss, his face heating up immedietly afterwards.

Nagi

It had been an unusually calm week for you and Seishiro Nagi. Despite the usual chaos that surrounded him, whether it was from Blue Lock’s relentless competition or his fanbase constantly buzzing about his status, you and Nagi had settled into a nice routine. There was no commitment, no promises. Just the two of you enjoying each other’s company in a casual, laid-back way. He’d show up at yours some nights, you'd binge-watch youtube or play video games, and the occasional kiss was exchanged, but it was never anything too serious.

It was comfortable. Simple. And deep down, you felt like it was enough for you.

But lately? Lately, something has shifted. Maybe it was the way his hands lingered just a bit longer when they brushed yours, or the way his smile made your heart beat faster than it ever had before. He didn’t say it, but you could feel something brewing underneath the surface. You wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was time to talk to him about what this was, what you two were.

You stood in front of your mirror one morning, nervously adjusting your hair. The moment had to be right. You’d already rehearsed what you were going to say. “Seishiro, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could try something more serious?” The words sounded perfect in your mind, a perfect reflection of your growing feelings. No turning back now.

However, fate had other plans.

While scrolling through your phone that afternoon, you stumbled upon an article. The headline hit you like a ton of bricks:

"Seishiro Nagi Officially Goes Public with New Girlfriend!"

Your heart stopped. You felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Your hands trembled as you read the article further. There was Nagi, smiling in a photo with some unknown woman. The words “new girlfriend” loomed over the image like a cruel reminder that whatever you and Nagi had shared, whatever you had hoped for, wasn’t real.

You had been overthinking things. This was just a casual thing to him, wasn’t it? You’d misread everything.

Suddenly, the message you had planned to send him felt ridiculous. Why bother talking about getting serious when clearly, he was already with someone else?

At that moment, the emotional whiplash was too much. You needed space. You couldn’t face him. You locked your phone screen and pushed all thoughts of the conversation aside.

For the rest of the day, you tried to distract yourself. You threw yourself into your work, watched mindless videos, but it was all in vain. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw that headline. Your Nagi, someone you had been secretly falling for, was with someone else.

Meanwhile, Nagi had no clue that his whole world had just fallen apart.

He was sleeping soundly, sprawled out in his bed, his phone discarded on the nightstand.

The evening sunset pierced through his window as he blinked his eyes open, groggy but still content. He missed you, he wonderd if you were busy. A small smile tugged at his lips as he sent you a message. You always knew how to cheer him up after a long day.

But there was no reply.

Weird.

Nagi tilted his head, frowning as he locked his phone and stretched his arms above his head. He figured you were just busy or had fallen asleep early. Still, he felt a little disappointed. You two hadn’t played together in a while.

He got out of bed, grabbing a quick snack before going back to his room to play a few rounds of valorant on his pc. Yet, something gnawed at him, something felt off. He decided to call you.

But you didn’t pick up.

Weird.

He tried again. Still, no response.

Now, Nagi was starting to get that feeling in his gut. It wasn’t like you to ignore him like this. His thoughts were interrupted when his phone buzzed again.

This time, it was an article. The same one from earlier, only now it was everywhere. Nagi’s eyes widened as he saw the headline about him and the new “girlfriend.” He froze.

What the hell was going on?

His first instinct was to brush it off as some stupid gossip, but his feelings quickly turned into panic as he realized you must’ve seen the article.

You were sitting on your couch, trying to make sense of everything, when you heard a knock at your door.

Your heart skipped a beat. Part of you wanted to believe it was him, but the other half knew that was unrealistic. Even if he was here, you didn’t want to face him. Not like this. You didn’t want to explain the mess in your mind, the whirlwind of emotions, and the jealousy that had sprung up when you saw that article.

You opened the door and there he was. Nagi.

And before you could say anything, he kissed you—firmly, his lips pressing against yours in a way that made your mind go blank. His hand cupped your cheek, and when he pulled away, his eyes bore into yours, a mix of determination and something else you couldn’t quite place. He hoped you could feel all of his love for you through it.

“You’re mine. Not anyone else,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “That news article? Fake. All of it.”

You blinked, completely shocked. “What… what do you mean?”

Nagi sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what was going on until just now. I didn’t even realize you saw it. But I wasn’t with her. I was never with her. It’s all some stupid misunderstanding.”

You could hardly process his words. Your heart pounded in your chest, and suddenly the flood of emotions that had built up came rushing in. But before you could speak, Nagi kissed you again before pouting.

“Now that we’ve cleared that, can we play Overwatch?”

It was absurd. You were still trying to digest the fact that he’d kissed you that passionately and now he was asking to game? Your face was still red from the gesture.

“...Okay,” you finally muttered, still a little dazed.

“Good, I’ve missed playing with my girlfriend.” He smiled, ruffling your hair as he walked past you to get to your room. You almost choked. You’ve been his girlfriend? Since when?

Reo

You had always known your relationship with Reo Mikage wasn’t exactly typical, but that never stopped you from dreaming. Reo had a way of making everything feel effortless. He was charming, with an enigmatic allure that seemed to make everyone gravitate toward him. And yet, he always found a way to make you feel special. Whether it was through a text, spoiling you with gifts, late night walks, a shared glance during class, or a quiet dinner date at one of the many upscale restaurants his family frequented, Reo knew how to make you feel like you were the only one in his world.

You weren't from the same social circle as Reo, and that difference stung every time you allowed yourself to think about it. Reo was the heir to a vast fortune, a golden boy in the world of soccer, destined for greatness. His family’s wealth and influence were legendary. Meanwhile, you were just another girl trying to make it through school, scraping together money for lunch while juggling part-time jobs. You didn’t feel like you belonged in his world, even if Reo never seemed to care about that. He had a way of looking past the things that defined people’s worth in the eyes of the world. But the reality of your difference in status was something you couldn’t fully ignore.

It wasn’t as if Reo was outwardly dismissive about your life or background. No, Reo was sweet, considerate, and—frustratingly—always seemed like he genuinely enjoyed your company. But lately, you were starting to wonder if you had been kidding yourself. Maybe you were just another fleeting thing in his life, a distraction before he inevitably moved on to someone more suited for him. Someone from a wealthier, more established family. Someone who could fit seamlessly into his world.

That was why, after months of casually seeing each other, you found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed one evening, staring at your phone screen and rehearsing what you were going to say to him. You’d been thinking about it for weeks now. Maybe it was time to have the conversation, to ask him where you stood and if there could be something more between you. You had convinced yourself that it was the right time. Reo was always warm toward you, his touches tender and his words soft. Maybe he was waiting for you to make the first move.

But then, as you scrolled through your social media feed while absently flipping through notes for your upcoming exam, you saw it.

The headline nearly knocked the breath out of you: "Reo Mikage Goes Official with Korean Chaebol Heiress, Seung Hae."

Your heart dropped into your stomach as your finger hovered over the screen. Was this some kind of joke? You blinked twice, then read the article again. It showed pictures of Reo with a beautiful, tall woman at a high-profile event. Her arms draped around his, smiles exchanged, the kind of chemistry you never seemed to get from him.

The worst part? The woman was breathtaking, with long black hair, flawless skin, and a designer outfit that screamed money. Her family was a significant part of the Chaebol world in Korea, and she fit perfectly into the realm of Reo’s lifestyle. Someone his family would approve of.

A strange mix of anger, sadness, and embarrassment bubbled up inside you. You could feel your face flush with humiliation. It wasn’t the first time you had thought about the possibility of Reo seeing someone else, but this felt different. It felt real.

Reo had been so kind to you, so sweet, that you thought maybe you were building something together. But now it all felt like a lie. You had been foolish to think he could ever be serious about someone like you. Maybe this was his way of showing you that your relationship could never be more than a fleeting thing.

I guess I was just a phase, you thought bitterly.

The next day, you avoided Reo. It wasn’t easy, especially since he always found ways to pick you up after school or find a day to hang out but you kept your distance. Whenever he texted you, asking if you could meet, you came up with a vague excuse about needing to study or work. Every time your phone buzzed with his name, you winced.

But despite all your avoidance, Reo never seemed to give up. His persistence only fueled the fire of your insecurities. What could he possibly want from you now?

Then came the day he appeared at your school’s courtyard, standing by a bench, watching you from afar. His expression wasn’t one of frustration or confusion; it was one of pure determination. It was oddly nostalgic back from when he used to go to school here.

“Y/n, we need to talk,” he called out.

You froze, clutching your bag tighter as you forced a tight smile. “There’s nothing to talk about, Reo.”

“Don’t give me that,” he said, closing the distance between you. “You’re avoiding me, and it’s clear something’s wrong.”

Your breath hitched. You could feel the tears starting to prickle at your eyes as the weight of it all hit you.

“I saw the article,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I saw the pictures of you and her.”

Reo’s face paled for a second before his usual calm demeanor returned. He raised a hand, gently cupping your face. “Love,” he began, his voice steady. “She’s just a family friend.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up at him, uncertain. “Then why was she wrapped around you like that? You and her, together like that... it didn’t look like business.”

“She was posed up like that with several other sons of prestigious families there. I promise you, you’re my only one.”

You swallowed, the tightness in your throat easing slightly. “But I’m not... I’m not like you. You have your world, Reo, and I’m just... me. It’s not the same.”

Reo stepped even closer, his eyes soft and focused on you. “You are my world, and that is more than enough for me. Don’t ever think it isn’t.”

The sincerity in his voice hit you like a wave, and suddenly the weight you had carried for so long felt like it was lifting.

“I’m sorry I didn’t explain it sooner,” Reo said, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “I should’ve told you about the event but I didn’t know the press would spin a story like this.”

“Oh”

Reo chuckled softly, his hands still gently holding your face. “I hope you know that you’re it for me, Y/n.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. This was real. In that moment, all your insecurities seemed to vanish. Maybe you didn’t come from the same world as Reo, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t share a future with him.

“Does that mean we’re together?” You asked.

“My heart was yours since the day we met.” He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

428 notes · View notes

jaikoyaki · 3 days ago

Text

My Lover

//Kang Haerin x 6thMember!Reader//Short Oneshot//

SYPNOSIS ♡︎ Haerin isn’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what she tells herself—until she starts seeing clips of you and Minji all over the internet.

WARNINGS ♡︎ Jealousy, Possessiveness (soft and non-toxic), Brief Miscommunication, Shipping culture, Hidden Relationship(the members know lol)

WORDCOUNT ♡︎ 1.7k

TAGS ♡︎ Jealous!Haerin, Established Relationship, fluff, FLUFF(was literally kicking my feet while writing this), Light Angst??

A/N:This is a little 1am brain fart so If I cringe at it tomorrow, I’ll probably end up deleting it lol

"MINY/N SUPREMACY!!"

"Their chemistry is insane, are we SURE they’re just best friends??"

"Minji and Y/N have been inseparable lately."

Haerin scrolls through the comments under the latest clip of you and Minji’s interactions. The video itself is nothing special, just you laughing at one of Minji’s jokes, leaning into her like it’s second nature. But the fans eat it up.

The video loops again.

Your eyes crinkle when you smile at Minji. She reaches out instinctively when you stumble, her hand lingering just a second too long. And it’s not just one clip, there are dozens of them now. Edits spliced together, set to soft love songs, moments slowed down to exaggerate the way you two look at each other.

You aren’t Minji’s girlfriend.

You’re Haerin’s. Only hers.

But no one ever ships Haerin and Y/N. No one ever slows down the moments where she is the one next to you.

The thought settles in her chest, foreign and unfamiliar.

Jealousy.

But Haerin doesn’t get jealous.

…Right?

"They’re reaching." Haerin mutters under her breath.

She locks her phone and tosses it onto the bed. It’s just fan edits. Just harmless shipping. She’s known for a long time that people see what they want to see.

"Don’t let them get in your head.”

But then why does her chest feel so tight?

Because one comment keeps repeating in her mind.

"Minji and Y/N have been inseparable lately."

And it’s true.

Lately, you’ve been stuck to Minji like glue. On stage. In the waiting room. During interviews. Even in practice.

And Haerin remembers—earlier, while filming behind-the-scenes content, you had shoved your phone in Minji’s face, barely able to contain your laughter.

"Min, look! "Minji looking at Y/N like she's the love of her life" oh my god, the heart eyes emoji is killing me! They're reaching so muchhh."

You wheezed, whispering the last part, playfully smacking Minji’s shoulder over and over as she groaned in embarrassment.

The members had laughed. Even the staff chuckled.

Haerin hadn’t.

She had been standing by the water station, fingers curling a little too tightly around a flimsy paper cup, watching as you laughed with Minji like it was the easiest thing in the world.

‘You’re not Minji’s girlfriend.’

She let the water run down her throat, but it did nothing to wash away the strange, unsettled feeling gnawing at her chest.

‘You’re mine.’

Before she even realized it, she was walking back toward the group.

She didn’t say anything, but you noticed immediately.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" You stepped in front of her, voice soft, concern evident in your eyes.

Haerin barely nodded.

You frowned, about to press further—

"Alright, break’s over!" the choreographer called.

You hesitated, eyes scanning her face, but eventually sighed and gave her hand a light squeeze before stepping back into position.

Haerin watched you go.

She told herself it didn’t bother her.

But that was a lie.

And now, before she even realizes it, she’s standing in front of your door.

Her jealousy isn’t loud. It never is.

But when she pushes the door open, stepping into the dim glow of your room, you feel it instantly—heavy in the air, simmering just beneath the surface.

The kind of jealousy that doesn’t need words to be known.

You barely register the sound of the door creaking open before a familiar presence fills the room.

“Rinnie?” Your voice is soft, questioning, as you sit up in bed. There’s only one person who wouldn’t bother knocking.

Your girlfriend.

Sure enough, Haerin steps inside, her small frame swallowed by an oversized pink hoodie, the hood pulled up with little bear ears perched on top. On any other night, you’d tease her about how ridiculously cute she looks.

But something feels off.

Despite the cozy hoodie, her posture is rigid, her expression unreadable. Haerin has always been hard to read, but this, this is different.

You frown slightly, setting your phone aside. “Rinnie?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she takes a slow step forward, then another, her gaze locked onto yours. And for some reason, the air between you shifts, thicker, heavier.

You swallow.

Something is definitely wrong.

You frown slightly. “Is something wrong, love?”

The second the word love leaves your lips, Haerin stiffens. Then, as if short-circuiting, she speed-walks toward you, her ears turning the faintest shade of pink.

Before you can react, she climbs onto the bed, quietly straddling your lap. Her arms snake around your waist as she buries her face into your neck, pressing impossibly close.

Warmth instantly floods your chest.

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her in return. "You’re clingy tonight" you tease lightly, rubbing slow circles against her back.

Haerin hums in response, but doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, she tightens her grip, nuzzling further into you, her soft hair tickling your skin.

Gently, you murmur, “Seriously Though, what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. A few beats pass, filled only by the quiet sound of your breathing. Then, finally, she mumbles against your skin, her voice barely above a whisper—

“Do you like seeing those videos?”

Your fingers still against her back.

Oh.

So that’s what this is about.

Smiling softly, you shift slightly, pressing a gentle kiss against the top of her hood. “Rinnie…”

She doesn’t lift her head, but you feel the way she tenses ever so slightly, waiting for your answer.

You sigh, pulling back just enough to cup her cheeks to meet your eyes. She resists at first, gaze flickering away, but you don’t let up. Your thumbs brush over the warmth of her skin, and slowly, reluctantly, her eyes find yours.

Her lips are pressed into a pout, her usual neutral expression betraying just the faintest hint of something vulnerable. It’s almost too cute to handle.

“The edits are kind of funny,” you admit, brushing your thumb along her cheek. “But they don’t mean anything.”

Haerin’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t respond.

A small pause.

“You’re always with Minji when we film,” she mutters.

You blink, momentarily taken aback by the shift in her tone.

“Minji isn’t your girlfriend,” she says, quieter this time. “I am.”

Your chest tightens at how small her voice sounds.

A soft laugh escapes you before you can stop it—not out of mockery, but out of sheer disbelief that this is what’s been eating at her. That your Haerin, quiet and composed, is sulking over some fan edits.

“Wait, are you jealous?” you tease, poking her cheek playfully.

Haerin doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she gently takes your wrist, her fingers curling around it, thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

“…You don’t act like that with me.”

Your teasing smile fades.

“On camera, no,” you clarify, voice softer now. “You know how careful we have to be, Rinnie. I didn’t want to make things harder for you, so I thought keeping some distance was the best thing.”

Haerin stays quiet, her gaze locked onto where her fingers are still brushing against yours.

You tilt your head slightly, watching her. “I’m sorry, baby. I thought it was what you wanted.”

“I don’t like it,” she murmurs.

You exhale, squeezing her hand. “Then tell me what you do want.”

“I don’t want you getting shipped with Minji.”

“I don’t want you to distance yourself from me on camera.”

You hold her gaze for a moment before nodding.

“Okay.”

You don’t break your promise.

The next time the cameras are rolling, you make sure Haerin feels it.

During a phoning live, when Minji passes you a snack, you thank her without much thought—but instead of eating it right away, you turn to Haerin, holding it up to her lips first. She blinks, startled, but opens her mouth after a small hesitation. The chat explodes instantly.

📌@stayrkieeiiw

"Did I miss an update?? Since when were they like THIS???"

💬 @ynhaerinupdate

"WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? WHY WAS I NOT INFORMED???"

🔁 @haerinno111

"Haerin’s little hesitation before eating lmao she was definitely malfunctioning."

During a music show, while the members are waiting backstage, you casually walk up behind Haerin and rest your chin on her shoulder. The cameras catch the moment as she flinches slightly in surprise before relaxing against you. You don’t move, just standing there with your arms loosely draped around her. The staff members barely react, too used to your antics, but the fans? They lose their minds.

📌 @gay4haerin

"WAIT, Y/N AND HAERIN?? HELLO???"

💬 @haerinsoftie

"They act like a married couple and expect us to be normal about it"

🔁@kpopfangirl24

“Y/N and Haerin have been so touchy lately???”

During a variety show game, you and Haerin end up on the same team. Every time she gets an answer right, you don’t just cheer, you grab her hands and shake them excitedly, or wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close in celebration. At one point, you’re so excited that you practically tackle her into a hug. She stumbles slightly, laughing, and the members tease you, but you don’t let go.

📌 @ynhaerin4life

“The way Y/N is all over her I CAN’T.”

💬 @njzrawr

“golden retriever x black cat energy”

🔁 @idkwhotostan

“Y/N and Haerin are so clingy In here, I need them to explain themselves IMMEDIATELY.”

On a phoning live, you’re seated next to Haerin, and for some reason, you can’t stop messing with her hoodie strings. You keep tugging them playfully, leaning in close whenever she tries to bat your hands away. Eventually, you give up on the strings and just rest your head on her shoulder instead. She freezes for a second, then lets out the softest sigh before tilting her head slightly so your temple rests against hers. The moment is short, but fans catch it instantly.

📌 @ynhaerin4life

"Haerin’s little smile when Y/N leans on her 😭.”

🔁 @multistan010

"Omg...do they know we can see them..?"

💬 @fuckhybeomg

"ARE WE ALL SEEING THIS?? IS THIS REAL??"

After a long day of promotions, the group films a short vlog in their practice room. You’re exhausted, so you naturally gravitate toward Haerin, flopping down beside her and resting your head against her lap. She stiffens at first, her hands hovering awkwardly over you before she hesitantly starts running her fingers through your hair. The fans don’t miss the way she tries to hide her smile, but the cameras catch it anyway.

📌 @haerinupdates

"SHE TRIED TO HIDE IT BUT WE SAW IT. WE ALL SAW IT."

💬 @idkiwannasleepsb

"DID YOU SEE THAT. DID YOU GUYS SEE HER SMILE!?"

🔁 @Y/nupdates

“Theyre not even trying to hide it atp. #YNsold”

🔁 @haerinwinning

"Y/N used to keep her distance from Haerin, now she’s acting like a lovesick puppy… what CHANGED???? 🤨"

📌 @ynhaerin_cult

"THEM. THAT’S IT. THAT’S THE TWEET. #YNSold #Theyremarriedsir"

💬 @minjynomg

"Miny/n shippers are in shambles rn"