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casewonnie · 2 days ago

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For books and all - Park Sunghoon

Pairing: Park Sunghoon x fem!reader

Summary: the day arrives where one of your favorite book series gets another part of the series and you can't wait to go and get a copy. little did you know it wouldn't be as easy as you think

Genre: dislike to friends, fluff, attempt at humor, chaotic?, talk of books, i dont know how to promote this it came to me in a vision

Warnings: none really, nothing explicit just mild swearing, oh and nonsensical insults, i am cringe but i am free, sunghoon is weird, y/n is weird, both of them have mild anger issues, sunoo is sassy, he also gets dragged and tickled, all of enha are here of course <3 i put the hunger games as the chosen book but you can imagine whatever

Word count: 5.2k

a/n: Hello! First of all, my writing debut wow. Second, thank you for being here and choosing to read my au. I decided to get back into writing, and this is my first ever fic that I finish and actually leaves the vault. I didn't know how to do the text messages so I just left them. If it sucks I apologise it was not beta-read, english is not my first language and I haven't written in a while but I really hope it's not too bad. I also didn't proof read the whole thing. I'm kind of scared to post this.

Sunghoon being chosen for this random prompt was purely based on the fact that I would love to fight him (affectionately, positively)

Any constructive criticism or praise is greatly appreciated. I love interactions.

ENOUGH WITH THE YAP LET'S BEGIN

>The day before the incident<

“Do you know who I love the most?” Niki, the youngest of Sunghoon’s friend group barged in his room all smiles and bright energy.

“How’d you get in, the apartment was locked.” Sunghoon lived with the rest of his friend group who were currently out and about with him enjoying the peace and quiet, well, up until a minute ago... As the youngest, Niki was still living with his family but he stayed over and hung out with them more times than he can count. This wasn’t a complaint, they all loved him like their own little brother, what concerned him is that he was fairly certain Niki didn’t have a spare key to the apartment and the door was definitely locked, so he had no idea how he got in.

“You! I love you the most! Also, don’t worry about it I have my ways.” Niki dismissed him like he asked a banal question.

“That is terrifying?” he replied.

“Anyways, my dear Hoonie, do you know how much I appreciate and look up to you as an older brother?” oh no. Niki was a sweet and thoughtful kid, wrapped in like a... dark, emo-looking exterior that wasn’t fooling anyone, but when he was this sweet, it usually meant he wanted something... “Okay now I’m really scared. You’re not gonna make me like, do something illegal... are you?”

Niki let out a laugh. “Don't be ridiculous... I just need a favor.” he assured him. “So... you know the hunger games, right?”

“You mean one of the most famous book series and movie franchise? Yeah, I’m familiar.” Sunghoon deadpanned.

“The newest book comes out tomorrow, and I need you to go to the store and get me a copy. I have the money and everything I just can’t go because I have a class in the morning. I asked the others but Heeseung and Jake apparently had some math project to finish and Jungwon said he was supposed to go to a... dora the explorer convention...”

Sunghoon scrunched his face in confusion, not even wanting to comment on that last one, and then he realized something. “Wait, wait, wait a second... I wasn’t the first person you asked, not even second, but fourth!? What’s up with that?”

“Oh, well umm, I just didn’t think you’d be up for it that’s all.” Niki didn’t think it would be a big deal to Sunghoon but seems like he was wrong.

“Of course I’m up for it! I’m wayy up... I’m flying with the birds! I’ve basically turned into a satellite.” Sunghoon tried not to sound offended by his friends’ statement but it may not sound as convincing as he thought. “Whatever!”

Niki hadn’t said a word, he just kind of stood there with his hand on his mouth, slightly frozen as if his friend would turn him into a shish kebab if he moved.

Sunghoon got up from where he was laying on his bed to stand in front of Niki, he put his hands on the others’ shoulders and looked him in the eyes, Niki tilting his head backwards now, wondering what he got himself into. “Don’t you worry about a damn thing! I’ll make sure I get you that book. Even if it’s the last thing I do.” he finished the last sentence by shaking the other man back and forth. “I’ll go get it right now!”

Sunghoon let go and sprinted out of the room as fast as he could, Niki snapped out of the weird trance and realized what was happening. “Sunghoon where are you going?! The book comes out tomorrow!” he ran after him out of the apartment and into the hallway but couldn’t see his friend. “I haven’t even shown you how the book looks like!” he tried but just ended up yelling into an empty hallway.

“Man, what the hell...” he whispered to himself lightly rubbing the back of his head, huffed and put his hands on his hips awkwardly. “He’s so odd.” he said and went back inside.

>Day of the incident<

This was it. Today was the big day. You have been anticipating this for almost a year and in just a few hours you will get your hands on what would be your most prized possession, because later today comes out the second prequel to one of your favorite book series. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since the news came out, and you even decided to re-read all the previous books and rewatch all the movies. You made a whole event out of it and watched the movies together with your friends Sunoo and Jay, who were big fans as well, maybe not on the same level as you... you had the tendency to get a little too obsessed with certain things... but hey, at least they were supportive. Anyways, the whole thing made you even more excited for the release, which is why you were currently sweating out of your eyeballs trying to think of anything else that will calm you down.

“Oh god I really need to relax.” you said to yourself out loud, even though you were currently alone in your room because to your disdain, both your roommates had their respective uni classes that morning. Wondering if you should text the group chat anyway, not wanting to bother them, you made yourself some food, got a glass of water and sat down to eat before you started getting ready and decided to message your friends.

>text messages<

Y/N: GUYS... IM REALLY NERVOUS PLS HELP ME

Y/N: ignore this if you’re in class

Jay: Is this about the book that comes out later

Jay: Also we have like an hour break rn

Sunoo: oh my god get a LIFE

Y/N: WHAT THE FUCK SUNOO

Y/N: and yes my dearest and only friend jay... it is

Jay: It’s going to be fine don’t worry about it! You’ll get a copy

Sunoo: this is what having only two friends does to you

Y/N: STOPPP WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

Y/N: yk what i see how it is

Jay: Hey come on now you two

Jay: Let’s all love each other <3

Y/N: Sunoo you’ve just lost all your privileges and are now demoted to “some guy i live with”. from now on you may refer me to Miss Awesome-Sauce or M’lady

Sunoo: NEVER say awesome sauce again

Jay: You should’ve gone with pumpkin spice

Y/N: what?

Sunoo: and also what privileges lmaoooo

Sunoo: if its your weekly concerts then im not really at a loss am i

Y/N: im revoking your... “can i borrow the book” privilege :)

Y/N: *mic drop*

Jay: GASP

Jay: oh no she didn’t

Sunoo: ....

Sunoo: Listen...

Sunoo: My dear, lovely Y/N, my best friend, light of my life, the moon to my sun

Sunoo: the palm to my tree

Sunoo: the swimming to my pool

Jay: I have never heard anyone say those...

Sunoo: the lip to my stick

Jay: HELLO???”@#@$%

Y/N: I feel uncomfortable...

Sunoo: I have made a grave mistake and from now on I’ll think about my words and how they can affect people. I will take time off of social media to deeply reflect on myself.

Sunoo: *sends a selfie*

Sunoo: Me self-reflecting

Jay: NOT THE LEE MINHO REF

Y/N: omg who is this DIVA

Y/N: okay you’re forgiven but only because you’re cute

Sunoo: I know <3

>end of text messages<

You turned off your phone now that you’ve calmed down a bit due to you and your friends’ goofy antics. You looked at the clock and realized you had just over 3 hours to properly get ready, catch the bus to go to your nearest bookstore and be there at least 30 minutes before they stock up on the books. You haven’t done math this much since graduating high school. The next question was what to wear.... I mean it was kind of a special occasion, right? If you could say that. Man, maybe Sunoo was right, you did need to make more friends... Whatever! Now was not the time for that.

You got ready and got to the bus station 10 minutes early just in case. The ride there was calm with no incidents with you listening to your playlist with songs you loved lately. It was just before 10:30am when you arrived but when you got to the bookstore it was surprisingly... empty. Too empty. Something was wrong.

Never in your life have you seen the bookstore so free of life before, with a just a couple of customers roaming around. You looked around for the table with new releases and just as you saw it you noticed that, that too... was free of books... umm... okay so they might just have not taken them out yet, that must be it. You asked the bookseller at the cash register and she kindly informed you that the book was in fact, ahem... sold out.

Your jaw dropped. “There’s no way, you must have some copies left.” you had to make sure you understood right and that this wasn’t a case of miscommunication. “I’m so sorry, we had to open an hour early today and everyone just got here after that. It sold out in like 20 minutes.” the cashier spoke with a little smile, her eyebrows scrunched as if she was looking at a hurt puppy.

“Can you please check your stock again? Or if I can make an early order if you receive a new batch soon?” you tried the only thing you can think of. Luckily the lady was nice and let you leave your phone number, marked down your order and told you she’ll give you a call if they have a copy left or get new ones.

“Thank you so much!” oh dear, that wasn’t your plan in the slightest. It’s alright though! You weren’t going to lose hope but you still wanted to search the store just in case there was another copy on the loose, maybe it was hidden somewhere, misplaced, mixed up with the others, in another genre section, you get it.

Looking thoroughly on the shelves where it could be sorted by genre was to no avail, so the only option left was to roam around and quite possibly stumble upon it, I mean if it’s meant to be it will find you. Something about not chasing but attracting it instead. Yeah, that could work, delusion was the best motivator in this case.

You got to the “thriller” section just as you noticed a book on one of the shelves, well you saw the spine to be exact, with a similar color scheme to the one you were searching for and gasped. Okay Y/N, calm down, maybe it’s not that one, don’t get your hopes up too high now, was your initial thought, but as you got closer to it, the book became all the more familiar. Could this really be it? Huh, maybe you weren’t surrounded by misfortunes and the universe granted you a lucky break. It took everything in you not to scream out loud or jump around in excitement but instead you walked normally to the shelf, the second you grabbed the lower half of the book to pull it, another hand landed on the top half of it. Oh you must be joking right now...

You turned to the stranger who was trying to get between you and the most important thing in your life right now, a fictional world... still important nonetheless. It surprised you to see that the person next to you was probably the most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. He looked like he was your age and was fairly taller than you, with jet black hair, dressed in casual clothes and a face that could launch fifty spaceships into the orbit. Okay you didn’t really know how to explain it but the point still stands. He had a few moles on his face, the prettiest eyes and eyebrows that seemed like they were drawn by a single stroke of an artists’ brush, which made him even more gorgeous. If that was possible.

“Hi there.” he spoke after a few seconds.

“Hello.” you replied confidently not wanting to back down even a bit because realistically, you knew what was about to go down. “Looks like we reached for the same book.” you added.

“Yeah, seems so.” he answered cockily both of your hands tightly holding the book, you could tell he was a stubborn one and it pissed you off, this was not going to be easy...

“Are you sure you aren’t lost? The self-help section is over by the entrance.” you tried to rile him up and pointed in the direction behind him but he didn’t even blink. Instead, he just turned fully in your direction, hand still firmly on the book.

“Nope. This is the book I was looking for.” you were expecting a snarky comeback that never came and instead he got closer, towering over you just enough for you to feel a teeny-tiny bit intimated. “This is the only copy left and I’m not leaving this store without it darling.” his voice was sweet and tender but his words weren’t. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Your bogus charm won’t work on me.” as if you’d let a man deceive you with such cheap tricks. You sighed. “Alright, how about this. We both put the book on that table over there...” you pointed to the small seating area behind you, near the windows “...and then we have a calm, rational talk on who should have it, okay? What’s your name?”

The guy studied you for a bit, unsure on whether he should trust you or not. After a moment he released a long breath and let go of the book, you pulled it out of its place on the shelf, got over to the table and placed it down. “It’s Sunghoon by the way.” he said quietly.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Sunghoon.” he repeated.

“Oh.” pretty name, you thought. “I’m Y/N.” it was only fair to let him know yours too.

“So... how will we decide this?” he continued the conversation. You thought about it but nothing really came to mind. “Umm… maybe we could list of our reasons and whoever has a better reason wins?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth in an attempt to speak but you interrupted him instead. “I’ll start first,” you said without letting him have a word in, you did him dirty but this was not the time to play nice. Your life depended on it, or more like... a couple of hours of enjoyment.

“My reason is that I really like the series and want to read it.” you continued.

“Right. Well, I promised a dear friend of mine that I’ll get it for him because he couldn’t come.” damn him, that was an infinitely better reason, why did he have to be so selfless.

“How do I know you’re not lying? I mean at least I gave an honest reason.” you didn’t know why you just said that but in all honestly it was the only way you could’ve stalled this until, well... whatever you planned to do, but you had to think of something first.

“Are you kidding me?” you could tell he was getting more annoyed by the minute and you decided to push it further. God why were you like this.

“I mean… I just want to make sure we’re both being a hundred percent transparent with each other. Is there even a “friend” you’re helping?” oh yeah he definitely bought that.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing. Your reason sucked compared to mine so now you’re just trying to slither your way through an excuse. Well it’s not going to work, so you can stop with the air quotes.” Sunghoon was getting really tired of your shit and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna go down without a fight.

“Slither my way through? What does that even mean?! And my reason doesn’t suck. It's just as valid as yours but I'm making sure the copy is not going to waste and that your “friend" actually appreciates the story.” maybe it would’ve been a better idea to be more... civil, but something about him made you want to keep pushing his buttons and he was no better either so you didn’t really feel guilty.

“Hey! My best friend Niki, who is very much real, has been a fan of this series since the first book came out, so this copy is basically his birth right and there’s no way I’ll let some sea urchin have it!” Sunghoon was, let’s say a bit surprised at his own tone, he wasn’t the type of person to just have beef with random strangers over silly things, but I guess he was just feeling protective over Niki and wanted to win this for him.

“A... a sea urchin?! How dare you, you... potato peeler...” way to call someone names.

Sunghoon gasped as he clutched his chest.

“I’ve been a fan for a whole YEAR, your friends’ love for it has been on stand-by, okay? Mine is fresh in my memory and if I don’t read that book immediately, I’m going to explode.” You emphasized with your hands.

“Well gosh darn that’s just awful, what will the world do without a life ruining angry kitten like you.” he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

“Oh real funny Mr. Probably wears coats all the time.” in your defense he did seem like a coat guy.

“Wow you got me... I’m so embarrassed, you carrot muffin.” yeah let’s go with that, he thought.

“What did you just call me?!”

“You heard me!”

“Screw you, pencil biter!” you were starting to get sick of this pointless “battle” so it was the best you could come up with.

“Bet you like plain pasta, don’t you?” he put his hands on his hips.

Sunghoon scoffed but then noticed the way your face sank at the last “insult”. There’s no way you actually got offended from that, is there? Maybe it was a touchy subject for you... dang it, how could he have been so stupid. What was going on with him today, this whole thing was so stupid, he didn't actually want to offend you... aaand great now he felt bad...

“Hey look, I’m sorry, I didn’t actually mean what I said, it’s just the first thing that popped into my mind. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.” you were standing very still while awkwardly fiddling with your hands looking anywhere but at him and frankly, he didn’t know what else to do.

“It’s not like I always eat it plain, you know.” you spoke softly and sighed. “My friends make fun of me for it so it’s a bit of a touchy subject but...it’s just so good! If you make it right, cook it for long enough and then... leave a bit of the uhh... left-over pasta flavored water. It’s amazing.” you were scrambling for words which at this point made it 10 times weirder than it was.

Sunghoon nodded while listening intently. “I know, I know. Forget your friends, you eat pasta however you want to! Don’t let anyone tell you it’s wrong, okay? If you want to eat it plain then do that, who cares...” you still had your head down and after some internal debating and awkward back and forth hand movement, Sunghoon reached his hand and pat your head a few times with a soft “There, there. It’ll be okay.”

You feel like your eyes bulged out of the pop sockets from the shock of feeling his hand on your head. Was he... comforting you? Never mind the weird air around you both and the weight of his gaze on you, it was... warm and tender.

In Sunghoon’s case however, he didn’t know what he was saying nor why he just patted you head but at this point he would’ve done anything to stop you from sulking and bring back that insane fiery energy of yours from before and... wait a minute. Why was he thinking all this and why did he even care? Oh god he was going mad... he hadn’t thought any of this trough.

At that moment, you slowly raised your head and looked at him with a small smile on your face, thanked him and... okay he was definitely going insane because he just found you so cute, he felt like a butterfly gave birth to a million small butterflies in his stomach...or was it the gut? Either way, this was not good, he needed to get his head out of the clouds and remember what his objective was.

“Okay! Enough with the dilly-dallying!” you exclaimed, stopping his train of thought but the complete 180 change from arguing to whatever the other thing was to arguing again was going to give him a migraine.

“We need to settle this once and for all. And I’m afraid there’s only one way to do it...”

Sunghoon nodded. “A sword fight!” he declared.

You stopped for a second to scowl at him. “What? No. Where would we find swords, although I would love that, it always seemed really fun on tv. I was thinking more of like rock, paper, scissors?”

“Okay, yeah, that’s way more doable.” he straightened his posture and squeezed his hand into a fist “Let’s settle this once and for all.”

“Ready? Rock, paper, scissors, sho-”

“Excuse me?...” Before you were able to throw the hand signs, a lady came up to you. “May I ask if you need any help, is there a specific book you’re looking for? Maybe I can help you look for it?” she had a nametag on her shirt and you could make out a small ‘Louise’ so you figured she was one of the store sellers.

Sunghoon spoke first “Oh no ma’am. Thank you very much for offering, but we were just about to decide who gets to have this book...” He turned to show the book where they last left it on the table next to them, only to realize it wasn’t there. Both of their jaws dropped in disbelief.

“It’s... gone.” You looked up right at the register as another girl about their age was checking out, the same book she had in her hands just a few minutes ago... The girl turned away from the counter, now with the book in a tiny bag heading towards the exit. As she opened the door, she turned back to them and gave them a snarky smile and wriggled her fingers in a wave and exited the store.

“Oh, that little...” You were about to head in her direction but Sunghoon grabbed your shoulders and stopped you from doing something stupid.

“Alright~ Let’s calm down a bit. She already bought it, there’s nothing you can do. We should’ve paid more attention to our surroundings. It’s over let’s just leave it.”

“You’re right. How are you more clear-headed than me? It’s odd.”

“I have my strong points.” he flashed a grin in your direction and you froze for a second. Wow his smile was so... gorgeous. How can someone be this good looking... it wasn’t fair to anyone. You turned to the woman before she witnessed any more stupid shenanigans, thanked her and exited the store with Sunghoon following behind.

“Hey, can we both agree that this entire morning and everything that happened in there was genuinely insane and definitely not something we should be fighting over?” you said once you were both out on the sidewalk. The sun was peeking out through some clouds so it was still quite cold, the streets were busy with cars and people going on about their day.

“Yeah, I mean, it does seem quite silly now, doesn’t it?” he laughed, leaving a big goofy grin on his face. “I guess this means we’re friends now?” he added, looking at you with anticipation. Well that was new, you weren’t expecting that, especially not from him but hey, what the hell.

“I guess so.” you nodded, smiling back at him and extended your hand for a handshake which he gladly accepted and shook it with his own.

It got quiet and after a few seconds you asked “So... what do we do now?”

“Umm...” he answered which gave you the impression that he probably didn’t know either “If you want, we can go hangout at my apartment, it’s close by, maybe we can have some of that plain pasta. And don’t worry I have roommates and you can invite your friends over. Niki will be there because, one, I want you to know that he’s real” you rolled your eyes “and two, since he’s a big fan of the series you’ll probably get along well.”

NEVER go to a complete strangers house or invite one over, stay safe please <3

“Okay. Yeah sure, why not. I’ll call my friends we can go together once they get here.” you knew their class had already ended so you texted Sunoo and Jay to come to a nearby cafe since you made plans with Sunghoon to wait for them there and chat in the meantime until you headed to the original hang-out location.

When the four of you got there you got greeted by 3 of Sunghoon friends which you found out were Jungwon, Jake and Niki who, to your surprise ended up being very real and for the next 5 minutes you didn’t hear the end of it from Sunghoon, meaning you were bombarded with a bunch of attacks like “See? I told you he exists.” or “I can’t believe you’d think I’d lie about having friends, how low do you think of me?” to which your answers were either intense eye rolls or random outbursts of “Okay! I get it! Stop bothering me!”

Once you filled everyone in on your...disagreement and everything from the moment you and Sunghoon met that led to you becoming friends of some sort, which to be fair, was very silly everyone fell into a comfortable small talk, slowly getting to know each other.

Sunghoon was right about you getting along with the youngest, about whom you found out later on, that Niki was just a combination of his last and first name and his actual name was Riki. Your main topics of conversations being, of course, the hunger games but also the pain of not managing to get your hands on a copy of the newest book. Call that a tragic inconvenience bonding.

Jay and Sunoo seemed to be getting along well with the others considering that for the past 15 minutes Jungwon explained, in great detail, all about his time at the dora the explorer convention and then dragged off Sunoo into the kitchen to show him his favorite episodes of the show. Jay bonded with Sunghoon and Jake over all three of them being born in the same year, called it fate that they met and something about soulmatism or whatever... they ended up putting their birth times into an astrology calculator to see if they, in Jake’s words, “match each other's freak”.

As Niki stood up from the couch and into the kitchen with Sunoo and Jungwon, the space next to Y/N was free for just a few seconds before Sunghoon decided to take it up.

“So...I think everything is going well. Heesung said he’d be back soon, said he was on some side quest. Are you having fun?” he asked expectantly.

“Yeah, your friends are really cool, I really like them. And I’m glad the guys are getting along.” a high-pitched scream came from the kitchen the moment you said that, both your heads turning in the direction of the scream just in time to see Sunoo getting dragged by both Niki and Jungwon, followed by a bunch of cackles. You could see them trying to tickle Sunoo which forced him to get on the floor in an armadillo position, a surprised expression landing on your face.

“Will he be okay or should I intervene?” Sunghoon asked, voice drowned in concern.

“Oh don’t worry about Sunoo, he may not look like it but he can fend for himself if he wants to.” you said dismissively and Sunghoon mumbled an “alright then”, still a bit worried because he knew how his friends could be, but listened to you anyway.

“You know, I’m kind of glad all the books were sold out, otherwise we might’ve never met. I got to be honest, you’re completely insane but it’s been a while since I’ve gotten into an argument with a stranger over a banal reason. It was honestly refreshing.” Sunghoon’s rambling was honestly so cute you didn’t even mind he called you crazy, and by the way he said it so excitedly and joyfully, you were sure he meant that as a compliment, and you didn’t mind it.

“Aww, thanks. I think you’re pretty insane too, if it’s under any consolation.” the two of you fell into a bit of small talk, giggling and laughing over something the other one has said, getting along quite well, that is until Heeseung showed up.

“Guys! I’m back and you’ll never believe what I found.” the guy you guessed was Heeseung, based on the single blurry picture Jungwon showed you, burst into the apartment without a care that, what was once his home, was now a chaos playground full of adult children running around and screaming. “Look what I got at a discount in a random mini market.” both you and Sunghoon stared in disbelief, eyes bulged out and jaws down to the floor as Heeseung pulled out a brand-new copy of the hunger games book you spent the whole morning fighting over. “Oh no.” mumbled Sunoo once he noticed what was happening.

“It’s mine!” Sunghoon and you burst out simultaneously, turning to look at each other to once again continue your squabble from before your friends arc. The others now going over to Heeseung to see what the fuss was all about before collectively groaning in understanding.

“Do you think Sunghoon remembers he went to get the book for Niki and not himself?” asked Jake, crossing his arms.

“I didn’t know it was gonna cause this much drama or I would’ve just stayed silent.” Heeseung put the book back in his bag, now clearly worried about the damage he accidentally caused.

“Knowing Y/N, she will stop at nothing to win this, since she basically let him off the hook earlier.” Jay joined in.

“Umm,” Niki began a bit unsure of himself. “Does anyone wanna leave them at it and go get coffee or something?”

“Sure.” Sunoo said without a second thought.

“Oh! I know this cafe nearby that just opened up it’s really cute and has a bunch of delicious looking pastries, if you guys are up for it.” suggested Jake, already on his way to put on his shoes and went out on his own.

“Well I guess we’re going either way. Let’s go everyone, we’ll text them when we get there. I wonder how long it takes them to notice they’ve been abandoned.” Jungwon giggled sneakily pushing the others out the door and closed it, the faint sound of muffled voices still audible from the hallway slowly disappearing as the boys went on with their mission, leaving the two angry penguins to fend for themselves.

-the end- hope you enjoyed :)

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wethotcrazy · 3 days ago

Text

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (iv)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 1865

part 4 this has some very minor mentions of body image stuff if you dont like it you could just skip over it ://

part i part ii part iii

Yn’s arrival in Monza carried a sense of self that had been slowly rebuilding all season. She moved with renewed confidence through the paddock, her head held high, embodying the fierce passion and easy-going charm that had once captivated fans in her junior days. Here, under the electric atmosphere of Italy’s temple of speed, she felt herself settling in, embracing the spotlight rather than shrinking from it.

Press day buzzed around her, a mix of genuine questions and the probing kind that often skirted on invasive. She answered with a cool, unwavering smile, handling questions about her race performance and strategy with ease. But some journalists were still hung up on the idea of her supposed transformation, finding subtle ways to question her ambition and intensity.

A reporter cut through the murmur with a pointed question: “Yn, some fans feel you’ve changed since moving into Formula 1. They say your intensity now is… well, a bit harsh compared to your easy-going reputation before. What do you think about that?”

Yn took a measured breath, holding the reporter’s gaze. “I think everyone grows and adapts,” she replied, her tone steady. “I’ve had to become tougher—this is Formula 1. You don’t get to this level by staying exactly the same.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly, knowing her response might surprise them. “But I’m still me. Maybe they just don’t know the whole me yet.”

Inside, however, Yn felt the familiar weight of their criticisms. Headlines seemed to dissect her appearance as much as her performance. She’s always known what it felt like to be looked at but not seen, to feel reduced to surface-level perceptions. Later in the garage, she scrolled through social media, seeing how her every move was scrutinized, with articles speculating on her appearance and attitude. A headline caught her eye, dissecting how she looked and speculating on her dedication. It stung, yet Yn brushed it off as best as she could, knowing what mattered most were the hours she put in, the passion and drive that defined her journey.

During a break, she slipped outside for a moment, breathing in the cool air and finding a rare sense of calm. Standing by the paddock entrance, she felt a nudge on her shoulder. Yuki, with a comforting grin, extended a cup of coffee toward her.

“All good?” he asked, his eyes bright with the same familiar warmth she’d come to count on.

She chuckled, taking the coffee. “Am I that transparent?”

He shook his head, nudging her gently. “No, you’re strong as hell. Just don’t forget that,” he replied.

Yn smiled down at the coffee, grateful for Yuki’s support. In Monza, she felt a freedom that hadn’t been there for a long time—permission to be herself without apology, knowing she had someone in her corner.

The weekend drew out a renewed side of her, and fans were quick to notice her lighthearted interactions with Yuki. TikTok and Instagram filled with reels and montages of the two sharing inside jokes, quiet encouragements, and lingering glances. Their connection sparked countless posts:

@GridGoddess: If Yn has a #1 fan, it’s Yuki for sure 🥹 #YukiYn

@RaceRomantics: The way they just… get each other? God when will it be my turn?!

@PitStopParadise: Can’t believe people judge her she’s literally my GOAT.

Amid the noise of judgment, Yn also felt a quiet source of strength growing, both from Yuki’s presence and her newfound resilience. She realized that her journey wasn’t for validation from fans or critics, but for herself.

That night, she and Yuki found a quiet corner at a small Monza restaurant, sharing stories over dinner as if it were just them against the world. When a few photos of them laughing surfaced online, fans noticed the quiet bond between them—an understanding that went beyond words. She deserves someone like Yuki, a fan tweeted, someone who’s her equal on and off the track.

With race day approaching, Yn’s focus intensified. Every lap around the circuit, every second shaved off her time, felt like her own triumph, undiluted by headlines or opinions. As she put on her helmet before practice the next day, she caught Yuki’s eye, and he gave her a confident nod.

Race day in Monza held a restless energy in the air, heightened by the sharp roar of engines and the flash of flags. Yn felt a pulse of determination beating through her, gripping the wheel with an intensity she hoped would carry her through the demanding laps ahead. As the lights went out, she carved her way through each corner, holding off fierce competition and securing a spot within the points. By the time she crossed the finish line, she could feel the relief of a race well-executed, even as she knew the spotlight would focus just as much on her demeanor as her results.

She made her way to the pit lane, pulling off her helmet and savoring the sounds of her team’s cheers, the satisfaction of another solid performance in the books. But as she looked around, her eyes fell on Yuki, who had also finished within the points but seemed to be reeling with adrenaline. His helmet was off, and his expression held a smirk of satisfaction that was more defiant than usual. Yn couldn’t help but laugh; she’d heard his radios during the race, the frustration and raw emotion that bled through his exchanges with his engineers. He’d been more aggressive on track than ever, pushing boundaries and holding his ground in a way she admired.

Yn walked over to him, smiling as he caught her eye. “Pushed it a bit today, huh?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Yuki shrugged, smirking in return. “Didn’t hear them complaining when it got us into the points,” he replied, unbothered. “Sometimes you have to ignore the noise and go for it.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Guess so,” she said, both of them knowing how different the reaction would be if she’d been the one shutting down her engineers with the same bite or cutting through the grid with that kind of aggression.

But as they made their way back into the paddock, social media was quick to start dissecting the race. Fans and analysts alike noted the sharpness in Yuki’s demeanor over the radio, his unabashed intensity on the track. Comments trickled in about his fierceness:

@F1Hearted: “Yuki’s intensity out there—exactly what we need. He was just defending his position like a champ.”

@GridGoddess: “Seeing Yuki hold his ground? No one could say he wasn’t going all-in today.”

@RaceForGlory: “Yuki letting out some heat on the radio… we love a driver who knows what he wants.”

But alongside these supportive voices, Yn saw a few familiar phrases creeping into her feed—posts from those who’d noticed the contrast. No one was labeling Yuki’s behavior as “too much” or “emotional.” No one was implying he lacked the control to handle the pressure. The familiar double standard sat in the back of her mind like a shadow, a reminder of how different things could look when she was the one showing that level of intensity.

@F1RaceQueen: “Funny how when Yuki goes full throttle, it’s ‘passion,’ but when Yn does it, they can’t wait to call her ‘too emotional’ or ‘out of control.’”

@EqualSpeed: “Imagine if Yn spoke to her engineers like that? Guarantee they’d be all over it in the media by now.”

@PitStopPrincess: “Yuki’s aggression: ‘Driven.’ Yn’s aggression: ‘Emotional.’ When are we gonna let her race with the same freedom?”

Yn didn’t need these comments to tell her what she already knew. She’d felt the double standard for years—how her every move, every calculated risk, came under scrutiny, analyzed and picked apart with an intensity that often felt like it wasn’t even about her driving at all. Sympathy’s a knife when they only want to use it to cut you down, she thought. Yet somehow, her every success only sharpened the blade.

Later, she found Yuki relaxing in the hospitality tent, still carrying that sense of accomplishment despite the edgy drive. She joined him, pulling out a chair and watching as he glanced over, eyes glinting with amusement.

“So… intense race today?” she asked, unable to hide a grin.

“Had to be,” he replied, shrugging. “They’ll get over it. We’re here to drive, not win any popularity contests, right?”

She smiled, but her gaze softened. “If only it were that easy. Sometimes it feels like we’re driving two different races, you know? You can go out there, push the limits, and they see it for what it is. For me… they don’t just want to watch me drive…”

Yuki’s face fell for a moment, and he gave her a sympathetic nod. “Trust me, I see it too. It’s messed up… the things they say about you, about how you handle yourself.” He sighed, crossing his arms.

She took a breath, “I’m learning to tune it out. Most of the time, anyway.” She glanced up at him, managing a small smile. “But thanks for seeing it.”

Yn would be lying if she said that she wasn’t even just a little bit jealous of the other drivers on the grid. Sure, they too got their fair share of criticisms, but they were also afforded a lot more freedom than she was. They could push boundaries, show frustration, and even make mistakes without it being dissected into a commentary on their character or capability. They weren’t labeled as “emotional” or “out of control” for a bit of aggression or a curt radio message. Instead, their passion was seen as intensity, their mistakes as just a part of the game.

She knew it was because they were men, that their presence on the grid was never questioned, never viewed as something “out of place.” No one saw their outbursts as a threat or their ambition as too much to handle. They were allowed to be fierce, even volatile, because it was accepted as part of what made them great competitors. Meanwhile, she had to fight not only for her results but for the right to be seen as a competitor at all—without every emotion or misstep being judged under a microscope.

Sometimes she wished she had that same freedom to just drive, to let herself be ruthless without second-guessing every reaction, wondering how it would be spun or if it would become a talking point. She wanted the same unspoken allowance to be aggressive, to be a risk-taker, without it being a commentary on her “femininity” or a challenge to her professionalism. But instead, she had to keep a tight hold on every word, every expression, every surge of frustration, because the world was waiting, eager to box her in or define her by anything other than her skill.

The jealousy wasn’t rooted in resentment toward her fellow drivers but in a longing to be given the same space to race freely, to know that her drive, her ambition, her mistakes, and her success could simply be hers. And as she watched the other drivers on the grid, it became clear: she wanted nothing more than to be seen as one of them, an equal, no qualifiers attached.

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iheartsteve0704 · 2 days ago

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welcome to my agathario rant:

Hold on rewind pause. I just realized that Agatha didn’t have to kiss Rio to die. She could have just been like okay fine I’ll go with you Rio and walked with her and that would’ve been that but instead she decided to kiss her and hold her one last time. Which is nice but I guess when you are WLW you have to just work with the absolute bare minimum because they’re gonna give you nothing. Don’t even get me started on Agatha dying at the expense of a man. I know it’s comic canon but they decided to finally be comic accurate NOW???

For hours I’ve been trying to grapple with Agatha’s switch up on Rio in epsiode 8. It just seemed so jarring and misplaced. Like all of a sudden they had gone from seeking out each others touch to “I never want to see your face again. You make my life a living hell”.

And with the context of 8, you honestly feel bad for Rio. This really WAS her job. She wasn’t killing people on purpose, she can’t even do that. And then we learn she’s given Agatha all this special treatment and this blessed time with her son, who shouldn’t even be alive, and she ends up spiting her and hating her forever when that time is up. But Rio clearly didn’t let that deter her. She clearly still loved Agatha (as we saw from literally the show season). She defended Agatha in front of her mother, defended her from the coven, the broom ritual, showing up the Westview to break her out of the spell and being so gentle with her, telling her the truth about Billy in episode 4. And then they tried to make her the crazy ex by making her say “WHY DONT YOU WANT ME” and “walking the road with ANOTHER WOMAN’S SON”. When she wasn’t crazy. She didn’t even do anything wrong but give Agatha extra time that didn’t even exist in the first place.

It honestly still doesn’t make sense and the last two episodes don’t feel like the characters they built up and the relationship they created in the first seven at all.

Agatha referring to Rio as “my love” in the Salem flashback but there was no context to how they had gotten to that point. Rio calling Nicholas “nicky” even though they apparently had never met each other even though his mom loved Rio apparently. And the killer for me was when Rio came to get Nicky and told him to give his mom a kiss goodbye. I wonder if Rio ever tried to tell Agatha this but she was so consumed in her own grief to even listen.

I’m just sad with how this story was handled. I’m sad that in the last episode of a show called Agatha All Along, the character who’s name is in the title got the back burner for the last 20 minutes. I’m sad that the agatahrio storyline was handled like that. I get that maybe they couldn’t have ended up together because of grief and because Agatha just couldn’t grapple with Rio and her job but the storyline was so inconsistent like it felt like they cut out a huge chunk of Agathario that would’ve given us the proper backstory to have gotten Agatha banishing Rio from her life in episode 8.

Because your honor! Those bitches were clearly in love and then you wrote them like that! Made Rio the crazy ex and Agatha switch up on a woman she spent the entire season pining for. Kevin idk if I can ever forgive you, I’m so serious! Wronging MCU fans, eh whatever. I can move past old man Steve but wronging lesbians??? Having a women led show and then killing 3 of them and most of all the person whose name is in the title and who the show is about? And then using the whole last episode to introduce a new character and his story instead of honoring the women led show from beginning to end? Oh that’s personal.

#I WILL AVENGE YOU RIO #Ugh the MCU ALWAYS wrongs me #what’s next? they’re gonna k word Yelena in thunderbolts #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agathario #aubrey plaza #kathryn hahn #rio x agatha #agatha x rio #wlw #rio vidal #mcu

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firefly--bright · 1 day ago

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unearthed.

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u., buzzfeed unsolved a.u.

summary ; you dont know just how many watchful souls listen to you and jean speak, waiting, watching. maybe it's just you, but the prison air feels warmer. warnings ; mentions of violence, a little horror (? literally just the tiniest bit), talks of death. cringe humor. a/n ; happy halloween my beloveds. crazy that halloween and diwali were on the same day. kinda poetic lowkey. im DEAD TIRED so ykw that means! happy fireflyfic day! (and happy diwali to those who celebrate :)) taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable , @zombiefiedskeivy

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

The prison wasnt eerie, which should’ve struck you as concerning.

No, rather, the opposite, the fact that it was a little too comfortable, a little too lived-in to be considered ghostly was what you found…weird. Or maybe it was jean’s presence next to yours, the coldness of the air masked by his warmth and stolen jacket perched over your shoulders that made the air feel a little more breathable.

Connie and marco are huddled over the camera, speaking in hushed whispers - some technical jargon that your brain is too tired to recognize.

Jean shifted from beside you, adjusting his own coat - not stolen - and thumbed the straps over his chest that snuggly held a smaller camera so it fit better over him. He cleared his throat when he caught you zoning out, “know your lines?” he asked, a prompt for you to speak your mind.

You smiled cheekily, looking at him under the dim, sole flashlight. “By heart. Scared, jean-boy?”

“Dont call me that on camera, please,” he says, eyes screwing shut when you shine your light straight into them.

“Have i ever embarrassed you? You do that to yourself more than i do,” “okay that’s…intentional. It helps with the character im going for.” you snort. “Damsel in distress?” he scoffs, “i had to save you last time, remember?” “that was just an excuse for you to hold my hand, you can admit it. The cameras arent rolling yet,” you tease, bumping your shoe with his worn-out converses. He lets you. There isnt much he doesnt let you do to him.

“Alright, cameras are gonna start in three…two.. One!” marco’s voice is characteristically calming, even at a higher pitch.

Your shoulders stand straighter as you look into the lens, placing the flashlight right under your chin. “hello, watchers! Welcome back to another episode of Unearth - a series where we try to gather evidence of the paranormal to see who wins - a believer,” you say, pointing the light under jeans chin briefly before settling it back under yours, “or a skeptic.” “it’s not a competition,” “right. Of course not.” you say, winking into the camera. Its jean’s turn to speak, his voice a low baritone, and you can see his breath becoming foggy into the now november air. “We are here today at the Marley Prison, rumored to be the host of seventy percent of the state’s most wanted criminals since the early eighteen hundred's. And we’re standing infront of it now and it’s fucking creepy,” “right, and it was also incredibly overcrowded, so-” “-so just, a terrible place to live in.” “yeah, but they killed people,” “...right. Most of them.” “i’ve heard it smells like shit,” you say, almost forgetting that this might get broadcasted, but jean’s eyes on you seemed to have that effect. forgetting the size of your own beating hear, forgetting where you were, melting away any proof of life except his.

He smirks, looking straight at the camera once more. “Right, that’s why i have-” he pulls out a small spray bottle. From what you could read, the text flashed, “FLOWER POWER!” and your smile turned into a laugh. “- this air freshener right here.” “right. That’ll protect us.” “if i get possessed i’d want.. It to smell, like-” “-like flower power-” “right.” now the both of you are laughing, shoulders shaking.

“Great. Let’s head inside, guys,” marco says, smile on his face, and eren puts the camera down to view what he had gathered.

“After you,” jean says, his shoes scruffing against the harsh stones underneath, spreading his arm infront of you as a guide.

“Pussy,” you muttered, making him sputter.

“Alright,” you say, settling on the cold hard ground. Cell number 509, holding the last inmate of the entire prison who passed away in the very same, cramped room. Only a mattress and a sink to keep him company, a small, hand-sized window on the wall opposite to the door, meant to be locked at all times.

“Dangerous people in this place,” you say, mostly to yourself. Your partner was on the ground floor of the vicinity, in another building entirely, investigating by himself. You decided to split up to see if that might spite any spirits to act, planning on asking questions to the different people that were barely alive, living in the space so freely disturbed. The camera crew were also downstairs, waiting on the two of you to be done. All you had was an old walkie-talkie that connected to jean’s.

“You there?” his voice - filled with static and concern - reaches the confines of the prison cell. “Yep. where are you?” you ask, sitting in the middle of the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest, your flashlight flickering. “Im at the uh… that punishment place.” “ah. Im in Dean Cooper’s cell.” “oh,” he says. “Why dont we just use our phones for this part?” he asks, a beep following him. You smile. “I dont know, actually. Do you- should we?” “yeah that’d be.. I mean, better communication. Audio..quality - there are so many bugs here,” he speaks as you switch your phone on, dialing his number. He picks up not even a second in.

“Okay, can you hear me better?” he asks, and you rest your back against the thick wall. The door - heavy and cold - is fully closed so you could get a better experience, the full creeps. You nod, knowing he cant see it. “yep. Its crazy that people had to live like this,” you speak, holding the microphone part of your device close to your mouth, his voice on speaker. Something alive to fill the walls, more than your own presence. “Yeah. well it’s crazy that they committed so many crimes, honestly,” “i know.”

You’re supposed to be filming. Your camera is rolling already and youre supposed to be speaking to a presumed dead person but a holy one is roaming downstairs without you and all you have is his voice as proof. “Hey,” jean calls out, and you thank good network reception and technology to have his voice be so clear, without cuts, real against your hand. “Im at the uh… what’s it called? The place where they could talk to their loved ones right now.” “ah,” “it feels weird.” a beat of silence. “Weird how?” you ask, your voice quiet.

“Like-” theres a shifting sound at the end of the line, followed by a slight creak. “- weird in the sense that… i dont know, like, people still loved and cared for quote-unquote bad people,”

You hum. Your head now also rests against the wall, too unaware to keep it up, too comfortable to find your own muscles. “I dont know. You’re always better with the words and shit.” he says, and you give him a small laugh. “Words and shit?” “yeah like, you know what to say.” “i mean, these people are dead, jean, theres a real small chance they can even hear us.” “i know, but like, even to alive people.” its almost 3 am, your phone says, and your heart increases in size, a little too comfortable against your ribcage.

Have you ever felt that before? the muscle that’s supposed to be contained in a confined space now opens itself up and you have no choice but to let it. It grows, bigger, until youre body is tattered and all that remains as proof is your heart, big and timid, still beating, waiting for jean’s eyes to look at it. You havent. You wonder if any of the people half-alive in this place have.

“I mean, love is alot of patience,” you start, your fingers fiddling with the end of your jacket. A stray piece of thread. You hear him humming in agreement and continue, “maybe they just… couldnt say it. How many times have you been able to not say that you love someone, y’know? And then you get the chance to but then it gets lost in all the other unimportant things and maybe that… maybe that’s love. The unimportant things.” you say. Your fingers feel funny, tingly, hearing his voice saying something at the end of your sentence. Youre too caught up to say something important as a reply.

So you settle. Listen. “Like, imagining this place alive… y’know. Like not in a creepy way but in like… it’s - like so much time passed, and so much was said here.” he says. His voice holds importance in your hands, and you trace shapes into the side of your phone with your thumb as if its the back of his hand and you’ve taken it in yours, cold and patient, unimportant. Tracing shapes that cant be seen. He hears them though. It’s in every pause he takes, every breath he hears on your end of the line and he wonders if you know how your alive-ness makes him braver than the night. Brave enough to know that speaking is something to be accomplished, that you’re listening.

He stares at the glass window in front of him, sitting on the chairs that prisoners used to sit on with hope in their eyes. At least, that’s how he imagines it. Theres a small hole in the window, enough only to catch a couple breaths and silenced sentences and he can only imagine how the other person mightve felt, seeing their loved one behind a blurry and unkept screen.

“Im not going to empathize with them, obviously, but, i feel like… i mean, obviously this place was built to be inhumane. The fact that they even included that section of the prison, though.. I dont know. it's kinda nice.” you say, and he closes his eyes to pretend youre in front of him. Its not that hard, in all honesty, because your voice fills his ears and he’d rather listen to proof of the living - with her shoe kicking his, with her voice teasing his shrieks - rather than the minute but present proof of the dead. He knew someone - barely alive souls, watching - had to be listening to your conversation but he also knew that he was listening to it too and he’d rather commit to the cold of your familiar hands than the unfortunately lived-in warmth of this place.

“It is.” he agrees, his chin tilting up, his shoulders relaxing. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone, microphone to his lips with the speaker on. He wasnt alone. His phone’s screen is blurry and unkept, but he wasnt alone.

“Y’know that’s what i find kind of… i dont know, comforting? About like, something this hopeless. That, like.. There’s a recreational room that they had. Like the option was there for them to sit down there and talk, maybe. I dont know how that wouldve gone-” you say, voice ending in a self-aware laugh, making him smile, “-but it was there, right. Same with this communication room…thingie. Like the option of loving is there.”

Your voice floats against the walls of the room, touches the glasses separating him and the world, before coming back to him. His chest feels funny, more aware that it’s there. Not just as an organ and something trivial that helps him breathe but now as something larger than himself. Something less candid, hidden under layers of clothing and skin built to be thick, raised to be soft, and it almost lays there, in front of him, inhaling the sound of your voice like it’s a new source of oxygen. And it grows. Alive.

“Option of loving,” he echoes, eyes now fluttering open and looking at the expanse of the tattered ceiling above him, spotting shapes. Option of loving. “Like even now there’s like.. Im sitting here, and there’s notches on the wall. Like the… four standing lines and then a slash through them. Like the hope of getting out isnt gone. Its… cool how humans just do that.” you say. He clings onto every word, his own little prayer against the dark, unsaid but important. Option of loving.

He looks back infront of him, staring at the glass window again. Theres gunk in the corners of it and spiderwebs claiming it as their home in a place as haunted as this. “And even if i dont… believe in ghosts it’s like…cool to think about in the sense that, i dont know, everything is a proof of life. Y’know?” you ask, ready for confirmation knowing that he’d provide it to you. Anything you’d ask.

“Thats… i didnt see it like that,” he admits, “i mean i just saw it as like… confirmation that dead people are dead and that if there’s an afterlife we have to chose a right way to live, something we’re proud of, so that we dont regret it when we’re… dead and roaming the halls, waiting to be found, yknow?” “like grief.” you answer, and he shifts in his seat, getting a bit more comfortable. He nods, knowing you wont see it. “Yeah. kind of.” “that’s…poetic. We should start a podcast-” “-shut up,” and both your voices are broken up by laughs, short and warm and proof of being alive and roaming the halls, waiting to be found.

There’s a dog howling in the distance. No light in the room that you’re in, barely any air, coolness of november flush against your skin despite your layers. His voice holds you, a little blanket, cocooning you around yourself. “Hey, you’re supposed to come find me,” you say, reminding him of his task of peering into the halls, asking ghosts and bugs to come closer to him. Whatever’s alive or half-dead or half-alive or half-already-living. “And you’re supposed to play twenty questions with your hot date,” “i think he’s pretty cold, actually,” you say, he laughs. Another shift in fabric, another creak - he’s gotten up from his place on the chair, now warmed, soon to be claimed by the prison’s musty air, but for now it’s there. Fully alive.

“My battery’s gonna die.” he says, voice a little solemn, his footsteps squeaking against the floor, rubber on hard cement. “We have walkie-talkies,” you provide, your voice full around it’s edges with your own smile and jean almost asks why youre smiling, but refrains. He’ll ask when he finds you. Or maybe he’ll tell you he’s in love with you. Or maybe the words will get lost under all the other unimportant things that he has to say to you.

Or maybe that’s just what love is. The unimportant things, layered, hidden, chest and heart, large, warm, growing.

#sorry this is bad guys #if it is dont tell me pleas #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #jean kirstein x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtein #fireflys rambles #marco bodt #connie springer #eren yeager

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depresssant · 1 hour ago

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NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

wsp guys. it's been pretty long, huh?... OK IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IT QUICKLY. here, damn 🙄. anyways, i hope yall enjoy n im glad u guys liked the first chapter. lets just hope this one lives up to yalls expectations 😭. follow me and repost this if u want a chapter three. also I NEED SOMEONE TO EDUCATE ME ABOUT SUNDAY FROM HSR BC I WANNA WRITE FICS ABOUT HIM SO BAD SO PLS SOMEONE EDUCATE ME N ALSO IF U KNOW LOVE AND DEEP SPACE??? PLS HIT ME UP AND EXPLAIN THIS LORE BC I WANNA WRITE YANDERE FICS FOR THEM SO BAD

“Why are balls called balls when testicles sounds hella fancier?”

At your friend’s bizarre question, the face of your other friend, Zarian, twinges in disgust. “Jayelene… why do you feel the need to put that out there?”

You huff in amusement, focusing on your pizza before what Jaylene says ruins your entire mood.

“I’m just saying! Testicles just seems more appropriate⏤the type of fancy shit drake and his family would say.”

Tim Drake Wayne…

Dinner with him and his freak-a-zoid family was like trying to make it past no-man’s land without any help to shield you from the straight up chilling vibes they gave off with their constant comments about bat facts. Bats. The atmosphere during the entire time you spent there was dreadful and quite literally heavy since Tim's youngest little brother wanted to sneak stares at you as if you wouldn’t notice his bug-looking eyes creeping into your soul.

Rich people really are weird, huh?

The Wayne family is nothing like how you expected them to be. They’re supposed to be cold, mysterious, and irresistibly enchanting, but all you’ve got are creepy vibes and a strong urge to stay away from them as much as possible. From the way Mr. Wayne made that weird comment about your father in the limo to how forcibly happy Richard or “Dick” was with you, you’ve come to an understanding that rich people are complete lunatics.

The Wayne family is full of a bunch of lunatics.

And you’re not afraid to voice that.

“There you go again,” Jaylene sighs when she notices the irritated expression on your face. “It’s never that serious, [Name]. You just hate everyone.”

“No, you don't get it! They were creepy as hell! Like… Like bats in dark caves coming at you all at once. They talk funny, they look funny⏤they act funny! What normal man name drops your mother’s name after knowing each other for about thirty minutes?”

Zarian huffs in amusement. “That’s the creepy part. How does Mr. Wayne know your name?”

“I dont know.” You run your fingers through your hair and lean back against the booth seat. “I don't want anything to do with them. Billionaire or not, how the hell does he know my mother’s name.”

It was perhaps towards the end of your stay at the Wayne’s manor for dinner, and you knew you had to go home, so you had largely hinted at leaving to Drake. Everything had gotten wrapped up, but when you were just about to leave, Mr. Wayne had told you, “make sure to tell [M/n] I said hi.”

You could only stare at him in shock as your body carried along, because how does a man as famous and wealthy as bruce wayne know your mother⏤your mother? He’s the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises yet mentions your mother?

That moment alone is enough to wave every red flag in your brain that screams at you, telling you something is up with these shady people. The only question is what? What can a billionaire possibly want from you? Out of everything the world has to offer, the most influential billionaire in America wants to target some meager high school kid?

What do these people want from you? Is it a rich people thing to play around with those below you? Well, you guess it probably is. Like, is Mr. Wayne gonna pop out with his soulless eyes and say, ‘you’re my long lost child?’ or something?

You still don’t know why you’re being a goat stuffed before slaughtering. These people want something from you, but you? You’ve got nothing to offer that they could want. Why the hell do they even bother? If there's one thing you really hate, it’s being left in the dark like this. Not knowing is terrifying. It's dangerous. Not knowing means not being prepared, and if you’re not prepared, you won’t make it out. Damn it, you should’ve booked it the moment Mr. Wayne mentioned your father in the limo. Movies and shows always display rich people as eccentric and psychopathic weirdos, and now you’re finally believing it.

Damn it.

You’re in danger. Okay.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But maybe it’s not.

You’ve watched enough true crime and have enough intuition and trust in your gut to know when something is wrong.

It’s not adding up.

You’re not dumb. You see all the warnings there, but what if you're exaggerating. What if this is just the nature of the Waynes, and you think you’re special enough to be noticed by them? Mr. Wayne is a damn billionaire! He’s got the money to do whatever he wants, so it’s only natural for him to do a background check on everybody that interacts with his sons, right?

It’s all in your head… It’s all in your head.

Sighing, you stare at the plate of food in front of you, appetite long gone. Still, you grab a fork and continue to eat as Zarian and Jaylene scream back and forth next to you. Drake, who had accompanied the three of you to the diner after practice, has left, thankfully. He left as soon as his food arrived while talking about some family emergency, and honestly, you’re pretty damn grateful for that.

Ever since dinner at his house, he’s surrounded you like a pillow smothering you, and you can’t do anything about it. He’s a billionaire’s son, for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take long for you and your friends to finish up, and you all part ways at the door of the diner before you clutch the straps of your backpack and walk around the city endlessly. This is a habit for you now⏤a way to put off going home as much as possible ever since you found out your mother’s boyfriend doesn’t come home until one or two in the morning.

That balding, ugly, sleazy piece of shit.

He’s as gross as every other man your mother’s brought home under the terribly veiled illusion that he’ll provide her a good life and treat her right. No matter how many times you try to tell that blind bitc… No. It's wrong. It’s not your mother’s fault.

But it sometimes feels like that, though.

Most mother’s destroy their own lives for their children, yet yours cannot even think about leaving the man that beats her child on a daily. Those types of mothers leave their spouses the second they see something wrong, while your mother treats those finger-print bruises around your neck like a necklace instead of abuse.

You’ve given up on her. You gave up on her back when you were eleven years old locked in a room with her boyfriend, and she didn’t listen. Or when you were twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen. Or fifteen. Or sixteen. Or seventeen. And now eighteen.

And each day feels like a repetition of the same. Wake up, go to school, practice, walk around, go home, get beat, and sleep like none of it all happens. It’s a routine you despise with every fiber of your being⏤makes you wanna jump over Gotham City Bridge before thinking about returning home because who would want to? Who wants this average life?

A life where you’re not happy enough, not sad enough. Not good enough, not bad enough. Not energized enough, not tired enough. You feel like a survivor of a plane crash floating on a raft at the center of the endless ocean with no way out. Everything just seems so vast, wide, and unreachable. How can you find the shore on a simple raft? How can you find a way out of inescapable misery if it’s not by drowning?

You’ve been waiting to find the shore, but it’s been a whole eighteen years since you’ve found yourself floating along the ocean.

That whole “it’ll get better” shit is a tragic lie.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter⏤not anymore, at least. You’re going to get far away from this place and never look back. Never have to relieve this wretched city. Never have to be confined by chains again. You’ve only a few months left before you’re free.

Until then, you’ll have to be patient and go home because the sun has fully disappeared.

Nothing but satellites twinkle in the disgustingly polluted sky of Gotham City, and the streets have come to a staggering halt as you stroll about the sidewalks, trying to find the longest path to get home. One in the morning is always the perfect time in Gotham because it’s too late and too early to be outside, so it’s generally safe for a walk.

Of course, the universe likes to prove you wrong at every point.

The sound of a thud followed by a pained groan behind you has your legs locked and ready to run with your brain screaming alerts, but you take a deep breath and turn around. How bad can it get, anyways? The sight before you surprised you nonetheless. It’s… Nightwing, a Bludhaven hero, here in Gotham, just randomly popping up behind you?

With clear bleeding cuts and sprouting bruises across his body.

In the random alley you just happen to be in?

No. You’re looking into it too much.

His eyes lock onto and they make you freeze right then and there like he’s cast some spell upon you. But that’s for a cold, brief second before you’re hooking your thumbs under the straps of your backpacks and turning around hot on your heels, refusing to spare him a single second.

You even hear him murmur a strained, “wait,” but you don't care.

It’s rude, mean, cruel, and it’s also none of your business. All you simply do is walk ahead to your approaching doom with an pit of unease and bitter understanding of your helplessness in your stomach. You can already feel the soon-to-be new bruises blooming along your back.

You’re not a good person.

But, really, who is?

Smoking really does skill.

But now you know why people do it.

Each drag is more out of necessity than it is a choice ever since you’ve met your friend’s plug at the dumb age of sixteen, but it's a way to dull the harsh truth of reality. The world just fades into nothing but muted and mixed colors like the loud city underneath your balcony it blurs into a faint hum the longer you stare at the spiral puffs of smoke that disappear into the air.

Everything’s bitter⏤the joint and you.

Really bitter at the blood semi-dried on your face and the dull ache along your back.

You’ve got about an hour and a half until you have to head out to school, so what other way is there to spend it than smoking away your brain? The joint’s a temporary escape, but it helps you stall whatever new feeling of despair you’ll feel for the day. Until you’re interrupted by your phone buzzing⏤the sound still a dull hum in your ears

“... Hello?”

“[Name]!”

Zarian’s voice?

“Where the hell are you? Hurry up and get to school or else you’re gonna get in trouble for not helping to set up the club fair, and coach will be on our ass! And don't forget to bring money for the tickets!”

Coach?... Club fair?... Club fair! Holy shit!

Your eyes shoot open, and you frantically scramble up, tossing the joint over the balcony railing before hectically staggering through the living room like a drunk man. Damn it, how could you be so clueless and forget such an important event? Especially one you need money for! Damn it⏤damnit! What do you do?

… Mom! She’s got a box of money somewhere in her closet, right? You’ve seen it before! It's just twenty dollars, and she wont notice. Okay… Okay. You’re quick to get ready. You wash away all the blood that’s dried on your face, brush your teeth, and change into baggy jeans and a clean shirt before storming into your mother’s bedroom and rummaging through her things.

She’s off at work. Her bastard boyfriend doesn't come home until late at night, which means he’s probably already taken money for the day. Okay. That's fine. They won't notice.

But you can't find anything! What the hell? Where is that fucking box? You could’ve sworn it was there on the top shelf last night, but as you swipe your hands across everything on the shelf, you can’t find it. All of a sudden, something made of wood hits the top of your head and falls to the ground with a crack. You hiss, palm moving to cover where you got hit, but your eyes land on the box that now has money strewn all across the floor and a broken… false bottom?

What the fuck.

You pull away at the rest of the false bottom to only be met with countless photos of you as a child with your mother. Mom’s shit boyfriend had all the family photos taken down for some weird reason, so they’ve been here this entire time? All of these photos are full of you throughout every stage of your life, but some have different people in them as well. Their faces are either scratched out or they’re ripped out of the photo entirely.

From what you can gather, the figures are a man and what seems to be a teenage boy. The absurdity and even slight creepiness of the scratched out faces has you laughing, yet even with your now dulled senses, your eyes land on a photo you failed to notice earlier. Maybe you’re hallucinating. There must be something wrong with your brain. Or your eyes. The universe must be playing with you because is that a photo of you and a teenage-looking dick grayson?

Your eyes widen because it looks just like the strange man you had the unfortunate opportunity of having a conversation with during dinner with the Waynes. It’s him! More importantly, why the hell is he holding a ‘three year old’ you’s hand? You probably should be screaming. Yelling. Maybe panicking? But all you can do is shuffle through the rest of the box before your fingers graze against something metal that has your heart jumping.

It’s a small camera.

With a bat engraved on its side.

Ears ringing so loudly in your head you can't even think, you wipe your teary and red eyes hastily before grabbing a twenty dollar bill, putting everything except for the photo and camera in the box, set it back on the closet shelf, and hastily grab your backpack before making way to school.

The second you reach the damned place, you seek out your now three friends and drop into a seat with a heavy thud, sighing and meeting Tim's eyes with a burning gaze.

“You mean to tell me [Name] found the camera? And you decided to tell me after school?”

Time Drake Wayne sighs and runs his fingers through his black hair, shrugging apathetically while scrolling through every photo in his phone that he’s taken of you during the club fair. His brother, Richard, is pacing throughout his room anxiously as he rambles off about their latest fuckup.

“Look, Bruce doesn't let any slip ups happen,” Tim murmurs in exasperation. “He wouldn't let this happen because [Name]’s mom and him talked this morning. Relax, he probably knows.”

It's not a lot, but it’s enough to calm Richard down. The man takes a deep breath but finds himself sitting down next to Tim, trying to get a good look at the pictures. “How mad was [Name]?”

“High, for starters, but clearly pissed off. Very observant, too.”

“Don’t tell anyone else. Not until Bruce gives us the okay.”

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so follow me n repost if u want part lll. and somebody pls explain hsr and love and deepspace lore to me. if this post doesnt get as many likes as the first one, im deleting this series 😭. if u see a grammatical mistake, no u didnt 😃🔪

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