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saltysaccharin · 2 years ago

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Med Student

— [PRE-ELYSIUM] {CANON}

• characters :: hawks / takami keigo, ryouga atsumu + hero public safety commission (briefly), others (briefly)

• content :: narrative, backstory arc™, childhood friends to lovers, fluff and angst so hurt/comfort-esque, bittersweet ending

• warnings :: none but remember the hpsc is horrible

prompt / synopsis :: a quick look at doc apollo before he became doc apollo. at least, from a bird's eye view (metaphorically).

word count :: 4.9k

a/n :: i've been wanting to showcase not-adult atsumu for a while, but i can't put his whole heart and soul out for the world to see just yet because he's supposed to be confusing and unreadable and ✨mysterious✨

so i got the next best thing, via hawks' pov <3

"Hawks,"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"That's enough training for today," The handler cleared her throat, uncrossing her legs before standing up. As she dusted off her pencil skirt, scarlet feathers belonging to thirteen-year-old Hawks paused in midair. He looked up at her curiously, which she acknowledged by raising a hand. "We have another task for you."

The dirty blond wiped sweat from his temple as his feathers gathered around him, then repositioned themselves properly onto his wings. He straightened his posture and patiently awaited the details of this new 'task,' although internally, his mind was racing in anticipation — was it his first official mission, perhaps? He realized that he was probably too young for that. Then again, he was barely a fledgling out of the nest when the Hero Public Safety Commission scouted him out, so it wasn't impossible—

He was competent, right? Did they finally trust him enough to handle the real world again? Hawks' chest thrummed in excitement and hope, following his handler out of the training room and into the HPSC's dull hallways.

She hummed, likely noticing his silent enthusiasm but choosing not to comment on it further. Instead, she started, "Sometime last month, the Commission found a preteen..." Hawks furrowed his eyebrows, evidently perplexed while she explained, "He's been gifted a powerful Quirk — like you — but unfortunately, it caused the downfall of his ordinary life. We have since decided to take him in and train him.

"However, he has proven to be a very.. difficult child. It seems that even with time, he refuses to cooperate with us. He either refuses to speak a word or simply has an outburst." The handler sighed, bringing a hand up to the bridge of her nose. Clearing her throat, she turned to look down at Hawks, "So, we were thinking that it might be good for him to interact with someone closer to his age. Maybe you could talk some sense into him, given that you're skilled in almost anything else."

The sound of sugar-laced words were familiar to Hawks' ears by now.

"So, are you up for the task, Hawks?" She asked directly.

...But they had yet to lose their effect, by this point.

The young Hero-in-training nodded, a determined flame in his eyes. "I am. I'll convince him, for sure. I'm willing to deal with him, no matter what he might throw my way!" He declared, balling his hands into fists.

His handler only laughed with mirth, "So dramatic. Well, you're in luck; we're here," The woman abruptly stopped on their stroll, turning to face a door. Hawks scrutinized the lack of a nameplate. "Let us know how it goes, and don't be afraid to back out if it's too much to handle."

'It won't be too much to handle,' Hawks wanted to retort, but ultimately kept the attitude to himself in favor of a quiet nod. He reached for the handle and turned, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him in one swift move.

"I told you people to LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

Almost instantly, a small tray was sent flying his way. It would have hit him right in the face had he not used his wing to block the attack, the tray falling to the floor with a clatter. Hawks scoffed to himself before lowering his makeshift shield, finally getting a good look at his assailant.

"O-Oh. You're not..." Stammered a boy with one too many white strands tangled in his brown hair for his age. He retracted the arm used to attack rather bashfully, grabbing ahold of his gloved left wrist. He couldn't seem to look at Hawks for very long, bright orange eyes darting around the room anxiously; his lip quivered, the beginning syllables of an apology forming, before he settled for a "...Whatever."

The kid slid down the wall with a frown, bringing his knees up to his chest as he sat on the floor. There was a relatively decent bed right beside him, apparently rejected.

Hawks was at a loss. It had been far too long since he'd genuinely socialized with someone his age, not to mention how.. disturbed this particular person was. He understood very early on that maybe he bit off more than he could chew with this one — but that didn't mean he was willing to give up. The higher-ups were counting on him, relying on him; how could he even think about letting them down when he was finally given a chance to show how good of an asset he was?

Taking a deep breath, Hawks took a tentative step forward, which did not get a reaction from the other. He interpreted this as a good sign, choosing to come even closer, and closer, until he was eventually seated beside the boy on the floor.

When he was met with still no response, Hawks awkwardly took a look around the room before speaking. "So," That was not a good start, he winced internally, but pressed onward, "What's your name?"

"Atsumu."

The immediate reply almost caused Hawks' heart to beat right out of his ribcage. He wasn't expecting a reply at all, much less a quick and cooperative one. Steadying himself, the former cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "Well—" An unwanted voice crack made him want to die right then— "It's nice to meet you, Atsumu. My name is Hawks."

"That's a stupid name," Atsumu deadpanned with zero hesitation.

"It— It is not!" Hawks flushed, his wings puffing up defensively.

"Is too," The brunet huffed, looking up from the hiding place that was the space between his arms, "But seriously, what is your name? Don't tell me 'Hawks' is, because I'm not going to believe you."

Hawks glared, his own frown forming on his face. He glanced away and mumbled, "Smartass." Into his palm, only for an exaggerated gasp to come from behind.

"Hey! You're not allowed to say that!"

"Says who? Maybe you're not, but I'm older than you, you know!"

"Do you even know how old I am?"

"...Eleven..?"

"I'M TWELVE—!"

The two boys fell into a rather uncomfortable silence after that. Not so uncomfortable that it'd warrant one wanting the other to leave, but it definitely wasn't as warm and friendly as a normal interaction between children should've been.

Hawks grumbled internally, wrapping his wings around himself in an attempt to calm his nerves. He didn't dislike Atsumu so far, really, it was just.. difficult, like the handler had recounted. Hawks briefly considered that maybe he contributed to the problem. Considering the fact that he didn't have many friends growing up — or at all, for that matter. His way of living before the HPSC took him in was less than ideal...

As he looked back on that time, he sighed aloud. What harm would telling someone his real name be? The people who 'accepted' him with open arms told him to throw it away, but he never truly understood how something so personal could be tossed aside as carelessly as they wanted him to.

He still had it. He didn't use it, but he still had it.

Just when Hawks made up his mind, opening his mouth to speak, he heard a whimper coming from his left.

Hawks quickly moved his wings out of the way to get a better view at the situation. Atsumu's face was buried in his arms again, a gloved hand digging into his hair and gripping the locks deathly tight. His body shook as he inhaled and shakily exhaled between sobs.

Utterly shocked, Hawks stuttered, "Are.. Are you crying?.." His question only seemed to make it worse, however, as a choked sob came from Atsumu's withdrawn form. A panicked apology left Hawks' lips before he could fully register what was happening. "Hey, hey— I'm sorry, okay, I.. I didn't mean to—"

"It's not your fault!" Atsumu yelled, startling the former although the noise was muffled by the position, "It's mine. It's all mine! Everything that happened, I— I couldn't control it, and now—" Hawks worriedly glanced toward Atsumu's hold on his own hair, deciding it might be a good idea to intervene before Atsumu hurt himself.

"Hey, it's going to be okay— I'm sure you didn't mean anything—" Hawks tried, despite truthfully having no clue what Atsumu was rambling about. He reached out to grab Atsumu's hand, carefully prying it away from his poor hair.

The action slightly moved the glove's hem, exposing some of Atsumu's skin which seemed to cause him to violently jerk away in a frenzy. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" He pulled away, nothing but terror in his eyes, "I'm— I'm a sickness, I don't do anything but make trouble for other people even though I— even though all I wanted to do was..." He cried, sniffling.

Oh god. How was Hawks supposed to deal with..?

"I'm sorry—" Atsumu unexpectedly managed between the bawling, "I shouldn't have... Sorry, you didn't do anything..." He forcefully gulped down the lump in his throat, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands. "I'm a mess. It shouldn't be your problem, just 'cause you're a kid too. I'm sor—"

Hawks couldn't stop himself from cutting Atsumu off. Before either of them knew it, Hawks had wrapped his arms around Atsumu, somehow simultaneously tight and gentle.

"Stop apologizing."

Atsumu sucked in a sharp breath before the waterworks started up again, unsteady hands gripping the back of Hawks' shirt as the shorter boy wept. The former kept mumbling apologies in spite of Hawks' wishes, but he let him get it out of his system. The handler said nothing about the rookie being so.. sad.

Hawks wondered, had Atsumu just been holding this all in for a month? Because he didn't trust any of the grown-ups to deal with his problems? Regardless...

Atsumu definitely needed that hug.

Hawks didn't know it at the time; but he did, too.

🪶

About a year after their mess of an introduction, the people running the HPSC had deemed it a good idea to allow those particular two to spend time together. Atsumu didn't really understand it (and made the fact very clear with his restless theorizing), but Hawks' feathers had managed to pick up some staticky noise about how they 'developed more efficiently when they were together.'

Or something like that.

He just guessed that it meant he and Atsumu were just easier to deal with as long as they weren't separated. Maybe they were similar to how two negative numbers multiplied made the product positive.

While not appreciating how that analogy meant he was a negative number, Hawks admitted that it was partially true. So well played, Commission heads, well played.

Still, it wasn't like every waking moment was some strange playdate orchestrated by the handlers — Atsumu spent a big chunk of his time in a different building, training both his Quirk and studying medicine; and Hawks had his own training to worry about, albeit he was much more advanced than the other considering how long it'd been since he was 'recruited.'

...Admittedly, even if the Commission hadn't constantly put them in the same room, the two would have probably found a way to use up their free time with each other.

Fifteen-year-old Hawks knitted his eyebrows together in concern as he watched Atsumu. The latter flexed his fingers and curiously observed the slow spread of.. whatever it was — it went from the tips of his fingers to his wrists now; it had stopped at the base of his digits when they first met.

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt?" Hawks inquired, understandably wary of this new development, "No stinging or itching or any of that?"

Atsumu took one look at him and chuckled for some reason. Squinting, Hawks scrunched up his face in confusion, his silent way of asking 'What's so funny?' The brunet shook his head in amusement, his voice still carrying a bit of laughter, "You're not very good at putting your feelings on your face."

What was that supposed to mean?

Atsumu shrugged, noticing the other's growing bewilderment. "I mean, you're not that expressive." He pursed his lips, "Like, at all." Of course he had to add that last part just to drive his point home.

Evidently, Atsumu had the exact opposite problem that Hawks (allegedly) did.

"I don't believe you," Hawks argued, internally reflecting on all the times he'd actively felt the muscles in his face move just to express a certain feeling. It was absurd to think that all that had been for naught, right?

"But you should," The brunet stuck his tongue out defiantly, having no regard for his technically-upperclassman, "It's not like any of the handlers'll tell you. They don't care about that type of stuff as long as you do a good job and be a Hero and blah blah—"

"Yeah, so then why does it matter to you, Atsu?" Hawks huffed, raising an eyebrow. He chose not to comment on Atsumu's disrespectful remark towards the Heroes, but it was fine; he knew and understood that his friend never really felt the desire to become one.

Atsumu only hummed in response, apparently taking some time to truly contemplate the reason. After some time, he finally came to the following conclusion: "Well, Heroes are supposed to be liked by the public, right? I think you have to be, like, human for that to happen."

"But I am human."

"You don't act like it!" Came the younger teen's retort, "I can tell how you feel since I know you, but if you told a stranger that you were worried about them being hurt while having the straightest of faces," Atsumu's shoulders slumped dramatically, "I don't know if they'd believe you—

"Which is bad! Because you're a good person and stuff. You just don't show it a lot past the actual.. y'know, Hero thing," The orange-eyed boy gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke, doing his best to get his point across. "You just look so serious all the time."

Pouting slightly, Hawks blew a stray hair away from his face, "Well, that's probably because I have to be — I'm always training, and..."

"Not always," Atsumu interjected, holding up a finger, "Not when you're with me."

Hawks lowered his head in thought, a few loose feathers idly floating around him. He supposed that was true; it was easier to unwind around someone his age, especially someone who shared the same.. abnormal childhood training experience he had.

"How do you manage to do it, then?" Hawks asked directly, "You have so much to juggle all the time, more than I do. But you're so..."

"So what?"

"...Cheerful? I guess?"

"Ha. That's funny. Anyway, to answer your question... I have zero advice. Sorry."

Hawks shook his head. "Then we'll have to work on that some other time," Gently taking hold of one of the other's hands without much resistance, Hawks brought it closer for inspection, "What's all this though? You avoided the question earlier." The blond huffed stubbornly.

Atsumu only shrugged with his free shoulder, making an uncommitted noise, "I honestly don't know either. My handler thinks it's a drawback, but I haven't felt anything."

"Hm. That's odd."

"Obviously, Kei."

🪶

"...Huh? Atsumu— Atsu, are you alrig—"

"Hawks, get your partner under control."

The sixteen-year-old trainee shot the handler a subtle yet absolutely outraged look as he took his friend's shaking form away from them. Hawks shushed Atsumu and rubbed circles on his back, saying nothing about how tightly the latter had clutched onto the back of his shirt.

Hawks turned back to the adult and questioned, "What did you do to him?" He barely held back a glower, "What happened? It's been five days."

Atsumu's handler sighed, looking down both literally and figuratively at Hawks. "What, can't stand being apart from the only colleague you'll know before graduating?" He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself, "Tsk, we knew there were risks of codependency, with your.. animalistic Quirk, but no one thought it'd affect your ability to know your place. Ah... Is this going to be a problem for us, Hawks?" His question only had one answer.

Hawks knew that.

He stole one more glance at Atsumu on the verge of hyperventilating into his shoulder, then lowered his head in the face of authority.

"No, sir."

"Good. Now, get him stabilized, however you manage to do that. You two should be ready for dinner when I come back."

After waiting with bated breath for the door to finally click shut, Hawks pulled away from Atsumu and placed his hands onto the other's shoulders. He worriedly moved to cup Atsumu's face in order to get a better look at him, and vice versa.

"Atsu," Hawks tried, "What happened?"

"...Kei..." The brunet sniffled in response, tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes before rolling down his birthmarks, "...So, so many things... They... They made me—"

Hawks shushed, engulfing Atsumu in another hug before he had the chance to burst into sobs. Atsumu had always been a crybaby since they met. His lows were truly low. He wasn't as young as Hawks was when the HPSC decided to.. mold him into another 'perfect' soldier, and so the difficulty he had adjusting to the whole living situation — it was hard. He knew that.

Judging from how Atsumu's body practically convulsed, clearly sore in some way, Hawks guessed whatever they made him do involved something that hurt.

...Whether Atsumu was the one who got hurt or if he hurt someone else was unclear.

"I hate my Quirk," Atsumu suddenly spoke up, although his voice was muffled by Hawks' shoulder, "I wish I was just Quirkless. This stupid thing hasn't done anything except hurt me and other people..." His grievances devolved into a silent cry as Hawks held him, the older boy unsure how to comfort his friend properly yet figured that doing his best would suffice for the moment.

Several "I'm sorry"s were sprinkled across the lull, Atsumu's habit of apologizing for seemingly nothing and to seemingly no one arising again. It always confused Hawks, but he never wanted to pry...

"Don't say that," Hawks eventually disagreed with Atsumu's first notion, "Your Quirk is incredible. It's capable of saving lives, and reaches places that most healer Quirks can't," He sighed, patting the other's back, "So many people will owe you their lives in the future. Isn't that what you've always wanted? To save people?"

Atsumu did not nod, but he didn't deny it either. Instead, he choked out, "But it hurts."

"...I know."

Hawks didn't know what else to say after that. He could tell Atsumu didn't, either, given the complete silence that overtook them, save for a few sobs from the latter.

Right when he thought Atsumu had dozed off, the boy took a deep breath and sighed shakily. "...I wanna help people," He mumbled, "No matter what anyone else says. I wanna give everyone a chance, 'cause it's not fair that I...

"That I did everything I did, but.. I get to call myself a 'Hero' in like three years," He sniffed, then finally pulled back from clinging to the only friend he had in there. "So I'll do that — help people. Even with the endless classes, the.. training. I can do it. It's fine, I'm—"

"It's okay," Hawks sighed, putting a hand on Atsumu's shoulder. "There's nothing that says doctors have to be 'fine' especially with all the crap they have to deal with on a daily basis."

Atsumu sniffed again, this time bringing up an arm to wipe his eyes. "Whatever, smart guy,"

If it weren't for the situation, Hawks would have laughed at the ridiculous familiarity that Atsumu's antics gave; trying to play everything off as if it were nothing without giving either of them any sort of break to process their feelings.

He'd grow out of it someday, though, so Hawks wasn't too worried about that.

"So how are you feeling?" Atsumu asked, looking at Hawks with his full attention, "I don't ask that as much as I should, even though you're going through.. basically the same stuff as me."

Hawks only shrugged. An unsatisfactory answer, he realized, as Atsumu frowned and hit him with a stray pillow on the floor.

"I'm pretty okay, really," He managed, tone uncertain still. Scratching the back of his neck, he drawled out, "Well. Less okay and more.. used to it all, y'know?"

"...That's fucking sad."

"Shut up."

🪶

"Oh, Hawks-senpaiiiii," A sing-songy voice called out, coated in nothing but malice. At least, in the target's perspective.

"Here we go." The eighteen-year-old Hero in question rolled his eyes playfully as he swiftly stepped to the side, successfully dodging an attack from behind courtesy of his significant other.

Atsumu yelped as he missed, well on his way toward the ground had Hawks not grabbed his hand in time. It was absolutely unnecessary to, but Hawks couldn't stop himself from smoothly twirling Atsumu around before pulling him close — all with a smirk plastered across his face.

Atsumu made a very unconvincing angry face.

"You're so cute," Hawks grinned, taking note of how Atsumu's expression was contradicting his comfortable body language. He loved him, but Atsumu was not a good liar.

Not to him, anyway.

"Stop being condescending!" Atsumu cried out dramatically, lightly punching — tapping, more like — Hawks on the chest.

"You're the one who was calling me by my Hero name instead of your beloved Keigo," He argued, cheekily leaning his face closer to Atsumu's. The latter flushed and immediately looked away, grumbling a series of profanities. Hawks could only chuckle fondly.

The brunet turned up his nose, "It's your fault for being older than me. I still have, what, eight more months of training to go through before I can finally see the outside world once more." He hummed.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, "You're being dramatic. I literally just took you out on a date a few months ago."

"It's not the sameee, Keiii," Atsumu whined, "I should be allowed outside already, even as a doctor! I already have forty-two doctorates!" He crossed his arms, then a heavy sigh came after, "That amount isn't remotely possible for normal people. This is so unfair. I have to study all this and try to keep up with my Hero training, which is just glorified torture at this point, and still—"

Unfortunately for Atsumu and his little tangent, Hawks had developed a habit of kissing him in the middle of various rants. In turn, Atsumu seemingly settled into his own routine of releasing a muffled squeal followed by (eventually) kissing back.

Hawks pulled away with a calm expression, but his eyes practically gleamed with adoration. "You done?"

Atsumu glared, pushing the other's face away with a scoff. "I hate it when you do that..." The almost aggressive reddening of his face betrayed his statement.

"Oh, is that so?"

"Why are you saying that like you don't believe me?"

The former only shrugged, his wings fluttering slightly, "No reason. Hey, I have some paperwork to do for my agency, do you wanna just," He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, pulling a complete one-eighty from his earlier confident persona.

What could he say? For all his teasing, it was rather.. daunting, for a heart as closed-off as his to suddenly waltz into unfamiliar territory. Though, he supposed his heart wasn't as reserved anymore.

Hawks glanced away, the tips of his ears gradually starting to match the color of his wings, "I don't know, really. Just.. do nothing. Together?" His question floated in the air for a bit.

Atsumu thought about it for a bit, his eyes narrowing as he replied, "So you just want me in the same room for no reason?" A shit-eating grin plastered itself onto his pretty face while he did a horrible job at concealing his snicker. "What, do you enjoy my company or something?"

"No shit," Hawks grumbled, putting his hands on his hips. The blush on his face was obscured by the new visor, but his uncharacteristic, shy behavior seemed to tell Atsumu more than Hawks would have liked. "It's a yes-no question, Atsu."

A drawn-out hum from the med student only furthered Hawks' defensive attitude, but the joyful laugh that followed relieved most of the tension in his shoulders.

The brunet hooked his arm around Hawks', giving him a contented smile. "Well, if my beloved Kei doesn't mind me reading up on the different ways to perform mutant Quirk-related surgery..."

"Not at all."

"Then I think we're good to go!" Atsumu declared, "Need a pen? I can lend you one of mine—"

🪶

Nineteen-year-old Hawks chuckled quietly to himself as he watched his newly-established partner mingling with the public from a distance.

"The name is Doc Apollo and I'm looking forward to working with you all!" Atsumu cheerfully introduced himself to the crowd of civilians that had gathered to watch the now-resolved incident. He practically glowed in the daylight, soaking up the praise he got.

Hawks shook his head and sighed affectionately, his focus being pulled back to the police officer he had been discussing the details of the situation with. He reported things clearly and worded his thoughts in a way that would ensure this would be a quick and clean interaction, but he remained ever so patient on the outside. The ruckus from the group fawning over Atsumu rang in his ears, and the proud comments from the former did the same.

After wrapping up his conversation with the authorities, Hawks politely bid farewell and left them to deal with the technicalities of the affair. He swiftly made his way to Atsumu's side with but a single flap of his strong wings, the noise from their audience growing louder.

"Oh, it's Hawks! Look this way, look this way!"

"Hey hey, isn't it such an amazing opportunity to see him in real life?!"

"Thank you for your service, Heroes!"

With a year of official Hero business experience under his belt, it wasn't fresh information that Hawks was very well-received by the public. He was an efficient worker, as well as admired for reasons involving something he'd worked on: Charisma, one could say. The way he carried himself made him shine in the eyes of supporters, causing a spike in his popularity despite how 'new' he was as a Hero.

His hard work paid off; in addition to his good Hero work, no longer was he inexpressive or aloof, like someone had said all those years ago. Yet, it was only a mask — an act he put on for the fans.

At first glance, that didn't seem to be the case for Atsumu.

But Hawks knew better.

He had no doubt in his mind that the outgoing, confident Doctor Apollo would gain positive attention once he debuted. Now that the day finally came, it was almost surreal how intentional Atsumu's innocent, 'youthful Hero' demeanor was.

Yes, he was truly happy to be here — Hawks could tell that much — but the cynical boy he'd grown up with never really changed.

"You two work so well together! And Doc Apollo says he just started?" A journalist pushed their way into the front of the crowd, an audio recording device in hand, "What's up with that?"

"Ah, well," Hawks began, silently taking note of how Atsumu quickly adapted to the speaker and lowering his voice, "Apollo is actually my new partner! We'll be working together a lot from now on, isn't that right?" He hummed, looking toward the aforementioned Hero.

"That is correct, yes," Atsumu confirmed with a nod and a smile too big to be insincere, "It's a great honor! Hawks is such an awesome Hero, after all, don't you guys think?"

Hawks narrowed his eyes at Atsumu in playful accusation as the group of civilians enthusiastically agreed, only getting a cheeky smirk from his boyfriend in return.

How sly of him.

Later, once the ordeal was over and done with, the two Heroes continued their work throughout the day. A tiring, rewarding job, was how Hawks would put it. Atsumu didn't add anything onto the matter.

Eventually, their shift ended, and they stopped by Atsumu's apartment to rest a bit before heading to HQ.

"So, how was it?" Hawks eagerly awaited a response as he carefully took off his visor, examining it for damage before putting it away. "Your debut — it went well, didn't it?"

Atsumu huffed, moving his bangs out of his face, "You could say that," He trailed off, pausing until his next point. He fell down onto the couch, groaning, "But I really don't like dealing with all those people... They're so pushy and excited and loud, and I can't deal with noisy guys very well—"

A hand on his shoulder was all Hawks managed, along with a sympathetic look. "I know. It's okay. Though, you'll have to get used to it; they love you." Atsumu sighed and put his own hand over Hawks' nodding slightly.

The former didn't comment on that claim, however. He grew silent, appearing as if he'd withdrawn back into his thoughts. After a moment or two, Atsumu spoke softly, "Thank you for being there. It made things.. a lot easier for me."

"You did well," Hawks leaned down to press a kiss on Atsumu's temple, getting a defiant murmur in response. He chuckled.

They weren't going to talk about any of the other issues that went on inside either of their heads that day. And that was fine.

This was enough. For now.

#courtesy of saltysaccharin's thumbs #elysian fields #atsukei #they're so sweet awww it would be a shame if anything bad happenwd to them #it's okay they're besties first and foremost <33 #and they were roommates /j #there's a lil bonus after this 😆

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freddythewatchdog · 2 years ago

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@janitorlarry7

(Previous) "I.." "I dont know." Larry responded. "I'm not the best at talking to new people..And I don't wanna just quit playing all together either-" He stopped and took a deep breath before he could let himself overthink. He just needs to think positively! Maybe that can help reduce his stress, right? "..I'll be fine." Larry whispered. "Yeah, I'll be fine!" He smiled as he grabbed another slice for Norman. Norman was very much flattered, blushing slightly as he stuffed half of it in his mouth. "Grop, that's such great pizza.." He said with his mouth full.

"If you're sure..." Freddy wasn't sure if he believed Larry but if Larry was willing to try stepping out of his comfort zone, he wouldn't tell him he couldn't.

"Besides! Once the game gets going there's not much chatting!"

By now the other watchdogs had finished eating and were huddled over Teddy's notebook as they debated who was the best at laser tag. As in, who should be paired with a beginner.

When Larry complimented the pizza Cathy grinned at him.

"I know right!? Sometimes they let me take old food at the end of my shift and it's, like, the best part of working there!"

#janitorlarry7 #stuckinuniformdevelopment #Haterempiretherapist #long post #[[same]]#[[and awww they're so sweet]]

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allthebestcowgirls · 2 years ago

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white boy of the month. sorry

#halle and his interviews have been so sweet too like awww #they're chemistry is great!#m

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theburningeyeofdawn · 1 month ago

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HOPEFULLY NEVER SEE YA AGAIN AFTER THE GAME, VINCENT THE USELESS.

if you dont think this is how ford plays ddnmd you are sadly mistaken

#triangle shenanigans #awww they have nicknames for eachother how sweet))#<- ooc: they're buddies :)#ooc: heheheheheh. thievery now or later? :)

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procrastinatingattorney · 1 month ago

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still reminded about a chunk of folks seeing a relationship bluntly being framed as motherly and then being like "um??? is this romantic???"

#im just?????? what are your dating lives like????? huh????#rantings rambles #they see 'she's treating me like a kid' and 'i wanted to be his family' and they go 'my god!!!! she wants to fuck!!!!'#(meanwhile they see e/mil crushing on the protag and go 'awww how sweet!! they're like siblings' and then say that mr canon gay kid here #is into k/aine despite him bluntly saying she reminded him of his actual sister.....)#these het fans......#unrelated but also people pointing that in automata that 100% of humanity is canonically gay skdhaskdhsa

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pseudowho · 5 months ago

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"Oh! Kento-- wait-- please please please--"

Kento turned back on the bustling Tokyo street, the night bullied away by neon signs, light pollution, and the pollution of the wayward drunken laughers. He only came on staff nights out, now, because you'd be there. He peered at you, tie-loose, hair-mussed and bleary, as you knelt in front of a Gacha machine. You rummaged in your purse for a coin.

Kento grunted, smirking, and reached into his clinking pocket, swaying back to you with liquor-rusted words.

"You're drunk. Here--"

"A-ha!" You birthed a 500 yen coin from your purse, triumphant, and Kento felt childishly disappointed that he couldn't pay for your inebriation treat for you. He watched you fumble the coin into the Gacha machine, and turn the wheel, crank, crank, cranking until there sounded a hollow tok, and a skrrr-skrrr-skrrr, tok.

The Gacha pod landed in the dispenser. You gasped, biting your lip in sweet anticipation, and looking up at Kento. He could barely contain himself from his own adoration, wanting nothing more than to reach down and grasp your plush cheeks and press his lips to yours and taste the drink off your tongue and--

"Kiss, Kento."

Kento frog-blinked, wondering if he'd spoken such impurities aloud, and opened his mouth to apologise. But he paused again, leaning down over you, knelt on the pavement, where you held the Gacha pod up to him, and repeated yourself, ditzy-drunk.

"Kiss it, Kento. For luck. For me."

Self-conscious, and grumbling in a way that only deepened your grin, Kento leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to the Gacha pod as you laughed. He straightened up, looking up and down the street to see if anyone saw, his vision a few seconds slower than his mind, wading through whiskey.

Heat rose up Kento's neck, and he opened his mouth again to suggest something stupid like why don't you come back to mine for another drink and--

"Awww, damn! This one again!" Kento looked down at you, owlish and inquisitive. You held up a little keychain, with a disappointed half-smile on your lips. You grimaced up at him, shrugging.

"That was my last shot I think. This line discontinues next week. Never mind." You tapped the front of the Gacha machine, stroking the green image of the one you were after, wistful.

Kento pulled you to your feet, and you linked your arm through his, swaying down the street together. Kento swallowed hard, wishing you were on his back, but instead blurted out;

"I'm sorry my kiss wasn't lucky enough."

You sighed, pensive, swinging your keychain on one finger.

"I'm sure they're plenty lucky. Just, maybe not for me."

Kento barely registered your words, distracted and glancing back down the street at the flashing Gacha machine, growing ever more distant.

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Between lessons a few days later, you crept into your office to dump essays on your desk, and snatch five minutes of peace. Settling your mug down, you saw the glimmer of brightly coloured plastic on the centre of your keyboard.

You blinked, curious, before a smile of realisation broke out across your face. A Gacha pod. You recalled, with your cheeks growing hot, how you had begged Kento for his lucky kiss, and how he hadn't corrected you when you told him that his lucky kisses would only be lucky for another girl. You felt a sting of humiliation...

...but, nobody else could have left this gift. Taking a deep breath, and pressing your lips to the pod (unknowingly stealing a kiss that had already been left there for you), you cracked it open-- and squealed with delight, ecstatic and fizzing with joy, to find your collection completed in the eleventh hour.

Later, at the first ring of the lunchtime bell, you knocked on the door to Kento's office. No answer. You knocked again, and gently opened the door, peering round and calling out.

"Kento...?"

Still, no answer. You crept in, closing the door behind you. His office was empty, his desk sparse and functional as always, not wanting to turn his desk into anything that would suggest he thought of work as home. The cupboard on his desk, was, however, straining at its latch, wonky at the closing seam from something stuffed inside.

Curious once more, you stroked the bursting seam of the cupboard, and undid the latch.

A veritable ball-pit burst forth over the office, with Gacha pods of yellow and red and orange and pink and blue and purple and black and white and--

--and every colour, except for green. Dozens and dozens of Gacha pods...except, for green. That one, you held in your purse. You swallowed hard, blinking back tears, and collected Gacha after Gacha, from beneath cupboards and radiators, rolled to all four corners of Kento's office.

Setting to work, you sat cross-legged on the floor, emptying the pods of their keychains one by one. Thousands and thousands of yen tallied before your eyes, and the plain, unassuming desk behind you said nothing of your coworker's secret obsession. And how he couldn't face you. And how you would never have known.

You sat in silence, with a lap full of empty Gacha pods, and listening to the birds singing songs of summer outside the window. You thought, and thought, and thought. You ripped pages from your notebook, tearing them to shreds, and set to work once more. By the time you were finished, the lunch bell rang again. You crammed the final Gacha back into the cupboard.

You could only wait, and hope.

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The warm summer rain started as evening began to roll in. You looked out of the Bistro window from your table for two, your belly twisted with nerves. Your green prize was clasped in your hand, a lucky charm; one earned with far more luck than a simple kiss could give.

You heard the jangling of a bell behind you. You dared not look up, instead just listening-- slow, familiar footsteps. The rattling clunk of a tote bag being placed before you, filled with Gacha pods. The rustle of a stack of carefully unfolded little notes, all with one word on; 'tomorrow'. 'Café'. 'You'. 'Me'. '8pm.'

"You broke into my cupboard."

You pursed the smile between your lips, your eyes closing with the silken chastisement, made without venom. Kento's cologne washed over you as he sat on the chair opposite, removing his glasses in a way that softened his face completely, looking at his lap with a smile. When he looked up at you, it was with a love so unapologetic that you could have cried.

You felt your nose stinging again, and set your green Gacha prize on the table between the two of you. Sheets of rain washed down the Bistro windows, and you cleared your throat, your voice cracking.

"This is quite the prize."

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"Kento! I'm home!"

You dumped your shoes and bag at the door, padding into the living room on bare feet. Kento leaned away from the stove, twirling spaghetti, and offering you the smiles he offered nobody else. He anticipated you, as your mouth opened.

"--yes, I went to the Gachapon. They're on the sofa. Pre-kissed."

You gasped in delight, in the same way you had that night, and bounced onto the sofa, two Gacha leaping with you.

"Two?" You cried, to his shrug, "I only said one-- you can't keep funding my habit, Kento--"

"I'm sure one would have been fine. But, just in case."

You barely registered Kento stepping over to you in his apron, with two steaming bowls, so focused were you on cracking open your Gacha pods. Taking a deep breath, you undid the wrapper...and cheered, your arms flinging into the air.

"Your kisses really are lucky, Kento, gosh...well, one more, then, I--"

You had cracked open the final Gacha. A ring tumbled into your hand, and your brain short-circuited. You trembled, rolling it around in your palm. The two halves of the pod clattered to the floor, forgotten. Your vision swam, and you sniffled, and looked up.

Kento had dipped onto one knee before you, aproned and still, with two bowls of pasta In his hands. In the crucial moment, he seemed anxious. He cleared his throat, his voice thickening.

"I would...like to fund your habit for the rest of our lives. If you'll have me."

A laugh bubbled through your tears, and you wiped your cheeks, allowing Kento to slide the ring into place on your finger. You held his broad hand in serene silence, time standing still, before you spoke.

"...so this ring is just...just one in the collection, right? Wait-- no, Kento, COME BACK, PLEASE-- I'M JUST FUCKING WITH YOU--"

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llycaons · 1 year ago

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good god this movie is long. that woman just died YESSS and now ram is giving bheem the bullet to kill scott and there's his blood spraying on the english flag oh this is so satisfying

#awww and heres sita. and umm whats her name. jennifer #aw sweet and heres the dancing #Inlobe how much fun they're clearly having #I love*#and there's malli coming home!!! I love that scene so much #cor.txt

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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 3 months ago

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"Waking Up in Vegas"

Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.

Saint-Tropez wasn’t just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didn’t care about consequences or anyone else’s rules.

And you? Well, you were done with rules.

For the last two weeks, you’d been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.

You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.

Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.

God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.

You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.

You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"

What a creative name!

You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.

You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."

He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.

Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.

Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,

"Good morning." - Jason

"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason

"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason

Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,

"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"

Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.

Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.

Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.

Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".

Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.

"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason

You ignored him of course.

The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.

Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.

The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?

Just because he apologized and said he'd change?

Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.

For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.

You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.

He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.

You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.

Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.

Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."

All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.

You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"

Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."

You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.

Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.

By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadn’t even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didn’t care. You've never felt so alive.

Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.

You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others you’ve met along the way. No one cares about where you’ve been, where you’re going, or who your family is.

As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and you’re ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly you’re lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.

The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.

But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.

London.

You’re sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.

You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but it’s all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.

You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.

There’s a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. “Hey, you good?”

You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.

Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.

Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.

The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.

You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.

The “No Boys Rule” was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, you’d end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new

Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you weren’t living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.

It wasn’t just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.

You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.

The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.

The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.

Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night before—flashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom you’d found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.

there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the world’s richest men tried to get your attention.

First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruce’s voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.

It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life you’d left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadn’t anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldn’t drink away.

You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let them see that you’d needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.

You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.

Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. They’d played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.

Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce… well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didn’t even bother reading it all. You didn’t need to. You didn’t care enough to respond.

You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.

You didn’t even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasn’t already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.

You didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.

The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didn’t have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss he’d stolen.

Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family you’d abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.

But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t owe him anything. But you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.

You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldn’t afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.

You couldn’t let them control you. You wouldn’t let them.

You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.

Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.

So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gotham’s grasp.

From there, it was off to the next city.

Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldn’t even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.

You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldn’t even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didn’t care.

He didn’t seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrity’s secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didn’t matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.

Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europe’s clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.

This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.

You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.

“we’ve got to live for the moment,” Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. “Who cares if we’re in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? It’s the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?”

Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibiza’s elite. You weren’t sure how many shots of tequila you’d had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didn’t matter. You were untouchable.

It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadn’t stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Duke’s yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldn’t remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl you’d only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.

It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, who’d never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.

The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.

He smirked, “Care for another round?” he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.

You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.

Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didn’t just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.

The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the world’s elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasn’t about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.

You didn’t even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monaco’s coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didn’t care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.

You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: “Come party with us. No rules. No limits.”

Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that didn’t involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.

As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the city’s most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.

It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.

There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didn’t realize you were his daughter.

You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.

But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how you’d never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just… empty.

You didn’t know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you weren’t going to be the same person who had left.

The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.

A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.

You turned to find a prince—probably from denmark—standing next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.

His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.

"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?

You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.

"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.

After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.

You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.

Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.

When you went back to Gotham, you weren’t just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.

As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.

When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.

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maplesyrupsainz · 9 months ago

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙xo xo | MS47˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: mick schumacher x fem y/n reader (she/her)

genre: social media au, established relationship

warnings: none jus fluffy

summary: in which your boyfriend finds himself explaining your knack for seeming nonchalant when in reality you just value your privacy, or in which your boyfriend is a lovesick puppy at your side and his fans have a lot of questions about you 🥹💋

a/n: i hope i did this req justice!!!! not sure if i got the idea right but hopefully i did i loved writing it!!! my first ever fanfic for mick too!!!

request!!!: could you do a smau for Mick where he's dating a girl completely opposed to him, not gothic but more of a golden retriever x black cat relationship

my masterlist

fc: various blonde girls from pinterest

twitter ->

instagram ->

mickschumacher 📍 australia

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton, and others

mickschumacher a lil boat day with the love of my life ❤️

tagged: yourusername

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user2 AWWWWW

user3 he's always so sweet im obsessed

user4 me when

user5 y/n is so lucky

user6 everyone's fav golden retriever bf

lilymhe gorgeous couple 😘

liked by mickschumacher

georgerussell63 thanks for inviting us!! 🤔

mickschumacher sorry. y/n said she couldn't be bothered socialising

georgerussell63 sounds like her

yourusername get over it

user7 LOL there they go again

user8 opposites attract 😭

yourusername 💓

liked by mickschumacher

user9 a girl of few words

user10 wish i was cool & mysterious like y/n but instead im a yapper with adhd 😂

user11 this is so real

mickschumacher you can say that again

user12 MICK??? LMAOOO

user13 💀

yourusername 📍 australia

liked by mickschumacher, carmenmmundt, and others

yourusername ⛴️

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lewishamilton come visit us after the summer break y/n

yourusername maybe

user14 no fr we need her back in the paddock already

user15 LOL lewis is like ussss

user16 begging for y/n's attention

user17 go girl give us nothing

liked by yourusername

user18 she liked this 😂

user19 self aware queen

user20 y/n my fav wag unbothered queen always

mickschumacher love you so much gorgeous

yourusername mwah 💋

user21 at least mick is in this post

user22 barely

yourbff witwoo look at uuu 👀

liked by yourusername

carmenmmundt missing you!!

liked by yourusername

user23 her barely ever replying is real as hell

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, mickschumacher, and others

user29 mick bf content when?

yourbff TXT ME BACKKKK

yourusername srry i will noww

yourbff ever elusive y/n

user30 ily y/n

user31 in my city omg!??!

user32 i luv summer break content

user33 so influencer vibes

lewishamilton …day 10 of asking you to visit the team after summer break

mickschumacher posted a story

liked by lewishamilton, lilymhe, and others

yourbff ur so whipped 💓

mickschumacher 🤷‍♀️🤩

user34 awww sooo cute

user35 once again the difference in stories 😂

user36 beautiful black cat y/n <3

liked by mickschumacher

mercedesamgf1 so gorgeous!

mickschumacher you're telling me

user37 rapunzel fr

yourusername 📍 nyc

liked by mickschumacher, mercedesamgf1, and others

yourusername living out my serena van der woodsen fantasy… xo xo 💋

view all comments

user38 omg y/n i am obsessed with you

user39 😍😍😍😍😍😍

user40 omg? go off girl

user41 xoxo fr

mickschumacher insanely stunning 🤩

yourusername oh you 💋

user42 giggling & kicking my feet over them

user43 they're all i think about fr

lewishamilton …day 14 of asking you to visit the team after summer break

liked by yourusername, mickschumacher

user44 HAHAHAHAHA

user45 no way

user46 they're begging you y/n

mercedesamgf1 we second lewis!

user47 LOLLLL

user48 how is this reallll

user49 why does everyone love y/n 😭

user50 IKR!!! she's so private tbh we dont rly know her

user51 yah idgi at all

yourbff can i be ur blair waldorf 🥹

yourusername you already know!

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, mickschumacher, and others

user52 Y/N PLEASE

user53 not paris 😂

lewishamilton …day 31 of asking you to visit the team after summer break

user54 our unbothered queen

user55 0 fuck's given

user56 so beautiful <3

mickschumacher ❤️❤️

user57 i jus know lewis & merc in general r having a breakdown without her rn!

user58 free merc f1 team from the y/n drought 🙏

interview ->

transcript: interviewer: i'm sure you've seen the discourse online about your partner, y/n… / mick: *laughs* we have seen it, yes. it's very endearing and i love that everyone wants to get to know her better! / m: she keeps herself to herself generally, we're very opposite in that way! i'm an extrovert and, well, she just isn't!

twitter ->