#but she did seem upset or something so yeah

[anonymous-dentist]

I get that trRos blowing up the castle was her more or less trying to get one up on Green, ending the prank war by destroying the one thing Green always pranked and stole from (and because she’s depressed and suicidal and stuff)

But I’m not sure if that’ll stop trPangi? Because yesterday he moved on pretty quickly from pranking Yellow back by messing with the castle. He almost immediately decided that he had to fuck with Ros personally: “What can we do that would hurt Ros the most?” “What if I stick her and drop her into the Void?” “I’m going to kill Ros for this.”

“Whoever did this is dead to me.”

Like, yeah, it’s a severe escalation on his part, but this is also how it works back on Lifesteal. Pranks are cool and all, but the retaliation is always 10x worse and much more personal in nature.

So of course he was going to take a prank against his team personally, even if he thought it was funny at first. But what really pissed Pangi off wasn’t the prank, and it wasn’t even necessarily the extremely torturous cleanup. It was Ros and Aimsey’s reactions towards him being upset. That’s what made the water prank personal, he felt personally betrayed by the fact that the two people he considers his best friends weren’t even trying to see his perspective on the matter

Like, from Pangi’s pov, he expressed extreme annoyance and genuine agony over having to clean the water up, and Ros immediately said “Oh, I’m doing it again btw” so she can get back at Pangi’s teammate. And then Aimsey, as usual, took Ros’ side and tried to downplay his emotions- his very obvious upset- by attempting to defuse the situation.

And then Aimsey said it, they said “But we just got you back…”, which, to Pangi, probably shows that neither of them really know him. They think they do, but they only really got to know the softer side of him. Every time he would do something Lifesteal-y, like killing Pili 2 at the ball, Ros and Aimsey would act like he was out of character. Admittedly, Aimsey seems much more chill with his violent and emotional side, but Ros doesn’t want to look at him like she did in January when he was making her life a living hell. That’s understandable, but it also means that, to Pangi, she isn’t willing to accept all of him; she only wants the good parts, not the messy ones

And so Pangi walked into the Yellow Castle yesterday with a pvp kit prepared and his pvp texture pack on. He had moved past the idea of pranking Yellow back, not because he dislikes pranks, but because, to him, it was personal. Lukey and Bad could prank back all they wanted, but Pangi? Nah, he’s gonna do his own thing

[andorerso]

I'm sorry for coming onto your blog to rant but I feel silly for being upset about it and it's nice to kinda vent with people who feel the same so I hope you don't mind <3

Because it's the final arc of Andor tonight obviously a bunch of interviews are coming out etc and Diego Luna in one of them called Bix and Cassian's relationship "Everything! They're each other's home and family and their relationship is every possible angle of love" and I don't know if I've just been watching every episode with my eyes closed but huh?!?!?

With my rebelcaptain goggles on and off this makes no sense to me. Like the "family" part i can completely understand, they've know each other for a large part of their lives, she (as shown in season 1) was very close with Maarva so yeah they're relationship being classed as family and that aspect of love i agree with, I also understand the romantic love aspect, in this season they were together for years BUT it was barely explored or given time to let us really feel it, bix and cassian were pretty much only on screen together when bix was in distress in some capacity and they were making andor play the knight in shining armour and then she took such a monumental choice from him and left. I know that they were going for "wow so tragic and beautiful" but like sorry they weren't successful and that's not really giving "every possible angle of love"

The main issue I think, which I know a bunch of people have spoken about here, is that they shot themselves in the foot withe the window of time they played this relationship out, if Cassian was younger you could understand him feeling like this was his one big true love, his first love, he'd "saved" her etc etc typical teen young adult feelings when it comes to love and relationships but to have this happen 1 year before Rogue One??? eh

It just feels like they're really trying to rewrite what we all saw in Rogue One between Cassian and Jyn, making it so that Bix was "waiting" for him and he could never love someone else when him and Bix are "Everything! They're each other's home and family and their relationship is every possible angle of love" it just stings idk why I'm feeling it so personally but ugh :(

well, this was sent before the release of the last arc and now with all that.... yeah. I agree. I already did but this last arc really solidifies it. like I'm not gonna change my mind about rebelcaptain but I kinda feel like that was Gilroy's intention. he seems very resentful of Rogue One in general, doesn't seem to care about Jyn, nor Cassian for that matter to mischaracterize him so badly. I think he wanted to take this story and make it his own. I'm not sure what his problem is, and I don't even mean to sound like a crazy conspiracy theorist shipper, but I genuinely do feel like he has a problem with people shipping rebelcaptain and did everything in his power to try and undo their connection. like I'm not even saying everyone has to see it as romantic or whatever!! but it was AMBIGUOUS, and that was the POINT. you could interpret them however you wanted to. now (and again, personally, it changes nothing for me and I know for many of us) but it feels like he's trying to discourage people from seeing it as romantic. look, Bix promised him they'd find each other! they have a baby! he hints at the fact that he may find her later! isn't this the ultimate doomed love story? don't you think he would have found her if he lived? don't you think they would have been together? doesn't this change how you see Jyn and Cassian??

like Jesus Christ, Gilroy, what's your issue?! I'm not at all against Cassian having a relationship (though I don't think it makes sense this close to R1 but that's another issue), but this feels actively malicious to me. like he's trying to say we're stupid for ever thinking there was something romantic between Jyn and Cassian because he was meant to end up with Bix. I hate it. I hate that we're apparently supposed to see them differently now.

well, I don't. you fucking failed.

[strangepetscomicbooksbat]

Chapter Update

Hunger is So Heavy by Mau_Iren on ao3 Chapter 18: Hellish Shopping Trip Chapter under the cut for those who don't use AO3, link above for those who do. Word Count: 2954

After the eventful texts early in the morning, Madison decided to take up their favorite tool in their toolbox. Avoidance. They ate their breakfast, had like.. half a pancake. Which is more pancake than they usually stomach, so they were pretty happy with it. And they took their medication. That they did not ask their Psychiatrist about, and just split the pill in half and prayed. There were plenty of things to do today that didn’t involve thinking about Tom and Alex, and how those two were apparently in the know about stuff that they weren’t. That Alex has been in regular communication with Tom, who was the first to leave, but not with Madison. Not like Madison missed him or anything, they were just his baby sister that he used to spend every day with. They aren’t upset. They aren’t upset at all. 

Eurylochus seemed concerned. He really shouldn’t be, they’re gonna be so productive today. There’s plenty of stuff that needs doing. They could get groceries, they could do laundry, they could maybe even change the sheets on their bed. It’s gonna be summer soon, maybe they need to change the bedsheets to a more summer-y color. When they went back upstairs after breakfast, they couldn’t help but glare at the words on their phone. “Since when did you have a roommate?” 

The question is giving them pause. Since.. a while ago, really. Maybe he would know that if he visited more often. The question is reasonable, considering the fact that this is an owned house with no mortgage, and Madison doesn’t actually have that many friends that they would be likely to live with. But still. Something ugly curled in their chest when they texted back, “I’ve had a roommate for a while now.” After some thinking, they answer his other questions, “I guess I was. I’m trying not to text him as much though, since he clearly doesn’t feel like talking to me.” 

That felt mean. They didn’t know if they could delete it though. Probably not. Madison tried to shimmy into one of their favorite pairs of cargo pants. It was just their luck that they noticed a hole. In a very inconvenient place. It kind of made them feel like crying. They just want to wear their stupid pants and put on a shirt that probably needs to be washed, and they can’t put on a sweater because it’s getting too hot. Their eye-watering frustration was once again interrupted by Eurylochus kneeling next to the bed, already dressed in that green flowy dress he likes. He looked imploringly at them and asked, “do you want help?” His eyes are pretty. Have they ever noticed how pretty his eyes are? They need to tell him how pretty they are, they’re nice eyes. Not like, perfectly symmetrical, but the color is really cool. “..yeah, I’d like help please.” 

Eurylochus was just.. a godsend. Madison was taking deep breaths, trying desperately not to cry as he helped them out of the torn cargo pants. It was sometimes hard getting changed sitting down. They never really realized how easy it could be if they had help. She isn’t sure why this is bothering her so much today. It’s literally just ripped pants. Their activity of distraction for the day has literally fallen right into her lap. They need new pants, they can go take an uber or something to the mall and buy pants. That’s great. They can take an uber, and when they get there, they could get agua frescas again, like when Eurylochus first got here.

And he knows fruit names now! They could take him to get agua frescas, and he could order this time! That could be really exciting. First time ordering food in modern English. That feels like something they could celebrate, too. 

Madison was so consumed in her own thoughts, she barely noticed Eurylochus taking a different set of softer green pants out of their dresser. He knelt down again at the side of the bed, rolling the pant legs up until they could just slip their feet through a simple ring of fabric, which then could glide up their legs. At least, until they got to their hips, where they could either have to awkwardly shimmy or eventually stand. 

She opted to stand, putting both her hands on his shoulders for balance. They shouldn’t have abandoned their cane earlier this morning; now their joints ache. Their phone dings. “Who is it? A girl from school? Or that Rebecca girl?” Once again, their irritation wells. Oh yeah, that Rebecca girl, their best friend.. when they were eight. They haven’t really talked to Rebecca since the woman broke up with her over text for not wanting to go out on dates during a literal pandemic, as an immunocompromised person. Breakup mid-virtual date planning. How does an asexual manage to keep dating people who want her for her body? Their luck is astonishing. “Hey, do you want to go to the mall? Since these tore,” they hold up their sad, hole-y cargo pants, “I was thinking we could go replace these? Maybe we could get drinks again too. You could try ordering your own this time and everything.” Eurylochus looks like he wants to push the topic, but he doesn’t. He just nods his head and agrees, “sounds nice. I’ll put on my shoes.” Madison almost feels guilty for their immediate reaction, which is to think, Holy Shit, that was a good sentence. They briefly wonder if he is even gonna need them for much longer. They very pointedly ignore the way that the thought unsettles them.

While Eurylochus walks across the hall to his own room, they type out a response to Tom. “I’m not really friends with Rebecca anymore. The breakup made things awkward. And I got covid after she tricked me into going to a megachurch with her.”

The text back was almost instant. “I’m sorry, did you just say you got COVID? Are you okay??” It kind of made them laugh. “Uh, yeah. I got covid two years ago dude. I’m literally fine, I didn’t even lose my sense of smell. I was just tired all the time for a bit. But the covid test was definitely positive.” They still kind of can’t believe that happened. But hey, that’s what you get for trying to stay friends with your ex, huh? Their smile dropped again when Tom wasn’t completely distracted by their clearly superior storytelling skills. “If not Rebecca, who are you rooming with?” It was cute the first time he asked. But now they were getting annoyed. “A guy I know. He’s really nice and makes good breakfast. Why do you suddenly care?”

Now they know that one was mean. They said that to try and hurt him on purpose. But never once in their life have they proofread or second thought a text, and they won’t be starting now. Especially not when Eurylochus walks back into their bedroom with his shoes on, and they remember that they probably should have put theirs on too. She doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to take off yesterday and last night’s socks that she slept in to put on fresh socks. But also.. What about when they try on pants? No stinky socks in the fitting rooms. So with a groan that stays completely on the inside, they take off their kinda dirty socks in favor of fresh white ones. 

Putting on their sneakers made them want to cry. Again. Their sneakers were supposed to be slip-ons, but they ended up just crumpling under their heel most days, and they just couldn’t slip their foot in, so they just end up tying their shoelaces anyway, and it’s so dumb. It’s so dumb.

Getting to the mall didn’t help as much as they wanted it to. Eurylochus had their phone in his hands, because he was watching Spinch over the nanny cam. Which was objectively hilarious, but Madison was on a mission. New pants, shoes that don’t suck. Preferably velcro. They don’t care how childish velco might make them look, they just want to wear shoes that don’t make them spiral. 

They feel nauseous, which is kind of putting a dark cloud over the whole trip to the mall. She is willing to bet it’s the medication’s fault. They should have just made that stupid appointment to ask about changing medications, but now they’re just gonna be vaguely nauseous for the rest of the day. Lovely. 

The first stop is shoes. They can do shoes. Shoes are easy. The mall is a maze of escalators, and women with double-wide strollers that should really look into a sleeker model. Maybe those kinds that stack the kids on top of each other. Their mom used to just have their dad pull them around in a little wagon, and they remember loving it. 

This mall in particular has a lot of shoe stores with big fancy shoes. Heels that make Madison almost green with envy, because they are so pretty, but they can just imagine the ways they would manage to twist their ankles in them. But there is at least one store that is filled with sneakers. It’s the same place that also had comfy sandals for Eurylochus the first time they brought him here. “Mind holding my bag?” they’d ask while sitting on one of the little benches to try on a pair of blue velcro sneakers. 

Eurylochus, like the great guy he is, held their bag. And he also made suggestions, “I think.. those are tight.” He was right. But they weren’t sure how he could tell from just looking. But they nodded their head regardless. “Yeah, I think I need just a half-size up.” Their estimate was pretty much right. Going from a size 7 to a size 7½  pretty much made all the difference. “Hey, since these fit, do you think I should get them in just blue, or in other colors?” 

Eurylochus holds up the box, inspecting the label. “This is the size, yes?” he asked while pointing at the 7½ in bold. Upon their little hum of confirmation, he inspected the labels of the same shoe but in pink, offering them the box to try these as well. “Test.

It was smart to give them a second test. But they fit as expected, and Madison felt slightly less crappy. Pink was a good choice, they really like pink. It’s a cute color, they really need to buy more of it. 

Pants shopping is hell, actually. 

Not to be dramatic, but cargo pants come in such a variety of fabrics. Some fabrics? Soft, lovely to touch. But they sag too much when they try to put their phone in their pocket. No use for cargo pants if the pockets, the main focus, are useless. Other fabrics are very structurally stable, but so rough on their skin. They tried to take a singular step with this one pair, and they just felt the fabric rub against their inner thighs with every movement. 

They are holding onto their mental stability by a thread. And not a fun, stable, six-stranded embroidery thread. A pathetic singular thread of a spider web that is about to get run through by a toddler with absolutely no fear of insects, type of thread. They bought a singular pair of pants. Not cargo pants, but vaguely acceptable sweatpants. Because they simply would not be trying anything else on, and they wanted an adjustable waist. After the disastrous attempt at buying pants, they just wanted to get their fun little fruity drinks. Madison is ready to buy a fruity little drink and go the fuck home. They aren’t even worried about looking childish in public. They are holding their favorite stuffed bunny that was previously in their bag, because if they don’t hold something, they might lose their mind. 

The mall feels especially loud, and they almost tripped on the way down the escalator, and Eurylochus had to catch them by the elbow and it was embarrassing, and there is this crying fucking baby that they would like better if it was quiet. Their sleeves are touching their arms, and it’s bad. Their sock folded in a weird way inside their shoe. They should have worn contacts, because their headphones are squeezing their glasses so their glasses won’t rest on their nose and are actually slightly in the air, ever so slightly askance, and it is driving them insane, They were almost half way to the agua fresca stand when Madison gave the fuck up. It was too much. They were too nauseous, and everything was too loud, and too many things were touching them. Madison could feel Eurylochus’s confusion as they sat down on the carpeted floor, next to the walkway railing. But they really just needed a moment. Several moments. Once again, they are crying today. It starts with sniffles, then progresses to ugly sobs and hiccups. Their mother used to hate it when they cried. There was never a good enough reason for tears. Years later, and they can’t stop the corners of their mouth from straining tight into a weird not-smile when they cry. It hurts. 

Eurylochus kneels. It feels like he’s doing a lot of kneeling down today. That’s their fault. They want things to stop being their fault. 

Eurylochus runs a hand through his.. host/charge’s hair, and he tenderly cups their cheeks once more. “Are you okay?” He doesn’t get a verbal answer. Or any answer beyond Madison shaking her head. But that’s okay. He doesn’t need a verbal answer, as long as she isn’t completely unresponsive. It’s an awkward first few moments, waiting to see if she would stand on her own. But she didn’t. 

“I just wanna get our stupid drinks and go home,” her voice cracked, and so did his heart. He carefully arranges the bag with her purchases over his shoulder, folding her cane to fit into one of the totes, and gently tucks his hands under her legs and back. When he stands, he arranges Madison onto one arm. He feels her tuck her face into his neck and shoulder, and he asks again, “are you okay?” She nodded her head, which he could feel against his skin. This was fine. He could carry her. He could carry her for as long as she wanted. Eurylochus started to walk towards the drink stand again, not wanting to deny the tearful woman half of her main request. The hustle and bustle of the line was loud, and he watches her clamp one hand over the ‘headphones’ that cover her ears. Once at the front of the line, Madison passed him the green ‘cash’ that they often use for purchases while he did his best to request drinks for the both of them. “One watermelon, and one.. mango,” he settled on, only faltering when asked if he wanted medium or large. He glanced down at his upset friend and answered, “Large.” The wait for their drinks to be served wasn't awkward. At least, not to him. Madison wasn’t exactly calming down yet, but she wasn’t openly sobbing. He can only imagine that the lack of open sobbing is a good sign. When their drinks were handed to them, Madison took the watermelon cup. 

The drive back to the house was.. Interesting. Madison was quieter than Eurylochus had ever known her to be. He noticed her gnawing on the straw of her drink as she quietly sipped from it, and she occupied herself with watching Odysseus on her phone. Getting out of the car was another matter entirely. Eurylochus helped her unbuckle herself from the safety bindings and carefully juggled holding her, the bags, and their drinks. Madison very helpfully unlocked the door for him. 

Their keychain jingled as the lock turned, and Odysseus was immediately upon them as the door opened. Eurylochus carefully sidestepped the small beast to set his now-finished drink down on the small table situated near the entryway and closed the door behind him. He isn’t sure what to do with this armful of teary-eyed Madison. But he has a theory. 

Madison felt really silly. With their silicone chewelry in their mouth, headphones over their ears, and bunny in their arms, and it still wasn’t enough? Somehow? They really only half registered Eurylochus setting them down on the couch, draping a soft throw blanket over them. The gesture was really appreciated.. because yeah, they are a big fan of soft things. A post-breakdown nap on the couch is always nice. 

But what really made them tear up anew was watching Eurylochus fumble with the TV for a few seconds, first turning on the screen, and then the DVD player. He messed with the remote for a few moments, and then the lyrics to the Aristocats opening song started to filter through the living room. Eurylochus settled back on the couch with them, hefting Madison up into his lap, and then Odysseus into their lap. And it was.. nice. Odysseus protested at first, then seemed to settle when he realized both of his humans were, in fact, also on the couch, and that he did want to be included. 

This was just.. a level of care that Madison found almost overwhelming. Her phone chimed, and she didn’t pick it up. Instead, they toss it to the other side of the couch. Unburdened with any need to respond to Tom right that second, they rest their head against Eurylochus and mumble a small, “thank you..” 

Eurylochus hums, gently rearranging Madison into a slightly more comfortable position before answering, “Any time, my friend.” 

[magpieinthemorning]

I watched Adolescence ep 1-3 back to back, completely captivated. I'm a bit conflicted about the casting of Jamie. Because on one hand the young actor does an absolutely phenomenal job. But on the other hand there are bits in the dialogue that don't quite fit him - for example he's going on about how ugly he is (perceives himself to be and is perceived by others to be), but the actor is pretty cute. So I get the feeling it was written with a 'rougher' looking kid in mind, but they were just so (rightfully) impressed by this guy that they cast him instead.

[chucklechampion]

ah heem heem......

[moonstruckme]

hi!! can u write a fic with poly maurauders x shy reader where she looses like her comfort stuffed animal and freaks out? thanks!

Thanks for requesting @whotfisgiana <3

poly!marauders x shy!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You don’t think your bedroom has ever been so messy. Pillows on the floor, sheets and comforter all askew, most everything you own moved this way or that so you could see around or behind or underneath it. You’re halfway to a panic when a knock sounds on your door. 

You ignore it. It’s likely a postman leaving a package or someone who will leave a flyer taped to the door, and you have more pressing concerns to deal with. But the knock comes again, louder this time. 

You push out a sigh as you stand from where you’d been peering under your bed, trying to shake some of your unease out of your fingertips as you go to answer it. On the other side you find your roguishly handsome boyfriend, looking expectant. 

“Hey, beautiful,” says Sirius, grinning as he leans in. He takes your waist in hand, and you kiss him back somewhat slowly, caught offguard by his easy affection at the best of times but even more so when you weren’t anticipating it. 

“Hey,” you echo as he pulls back. 

“You look surprised to see me,” he observes. “Did you not remember our date?” 

You blink. Oh. Oh. God, you’re the worst. You’re supposed to be going to see a film with your boyfriends at noon—but in your frenzy, you’d completely forgotten. Is it really that late already?

“It’s alright.” Sirius seems to sense your nerves, giving you a kind squeeze. “We’ve got time, lovely, James is picking up Remus from across town and I told them we’d take the bus, is that alright? Do you need to do anything before we go?” 

Your first thought is that you can’t go—but that’s not very fair, is it? You had plans, you can’t just abandon your boyfriends because something else has come up. Something completely non-urgent, too. It will still be just as lost whether you’re at the cinema or not. You can keep looking when you get home. 

“Yeah,” you say, stepping back from the door. Sirius comes in, and you shut it behind him. “Sorry, I’m still in my pajamas. I can change fast.” 

“Don’t hurry,” he says easily. “You know how James drives. We’ll beat them there no matter what.” 

“Thanks.” You hurry into your room, Sirius trailing casually behind. “Sorry, just a second.” 

He tsks, teasing. “Stop that.” 

“Sorry,” you say instinctively, then feel your face heat when he shoots you a mock stern look. You grab some clothes and go into your bathroom, shutting the door to change. 

“Whoa,” says Sirius as he enters your room. “What happened in here?” 

You forcibly stifle another apology, laughing at yourself. “I know, it’s so bad.”

“Are you redecorating or something?” 

“No, just looking for something.” 

You step out of the bathroom in jeans and a jumper, and Sirius grins at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re ready for him this time. When he steps forward, you let him put his hands on your face and kiss him back sweetly. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks. 

“Hm?” 

“You seem upset. What is it?” 

“I’m not upset.” You want for it to be true. You wish this wasn’t something that rattled you so badly. 

“Liar.” Sirius says it in the same way he calls James pest, with a fond bent to his voice. He puts a couple of inches between you, keeping your face in his hands as he traps you beneath his stare. “What is it?” 

Your shoulders climb up towards your ears. “I’m okay,” you say meekly. Sirius only looks at you, as if to say go on. “I just can’t find my rabbit.” 

His brow furrows. “Your rabbit.” 

“My stuffed rabbit,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Sirius glances to your bed, the covers half torn off from where you’ve disheveled them in your search and now trailing onto the floor. He lets his grip slip down your arms. “How did I not know about this? Seems rather important to you.” 

“I don’t need to sleep with him every night or anything,” you say, embarrassed. “I’ve just always had him, so he’s sort of…sentimental. Anyway, it’s fine. I’ll find it later.” 

“I’m not going to drag you to the cinema when you’re upset about your rabbit,” Sirius says, like the mere idea is offensive. 

“You’re not dragging me,” you argue feebly, “and I’m not upset.” 

“I’m not escorting you while you’re worried, then.” He rolls his eyes, taking out his phone. 

“Sirius,” you plead, but he only shushes you. 

“Hi,” he says a moment later. “Hey, has James gotten to you yet?” 

Remus’ voice, too quiet to make out, crackles through the line. 

Sirius hums. “Well, I’m impressed by him. Actually, though, we may have a change of plans.” 

You cover your face with your hands, mortified. Sirius puts an arm around you, rubbing your shoulder like there, there. 

“It seems our girl has misplaced her stuffed rabbit.” 

You’re close enough now to hear James say, genuine alarm in his tone, “Moo Moo?” 

There’s a pause, and you peek through your fingers to find Sirius looking at you. You nod in confirmation. 

“It’s called Moo Moo?” he asks. 

You hum quietly. 

“Why would you name your rabbit after a sound a cow makes?” 

“I don’t know,” you say sheepishly. “I was a baby.” 

Sirius rolls his eyes, kissing you on your head. “You’re fucking precious, do you know that?” 

It’s decided quickly after that. James and Remus change course, heading for your apartment while you and Sirius recommence the search. None of them will hear your protests, least of all Sirius, who threatens to decommission you from the rescue party if you continue to spend your energy arguing rather than looking. 

With two of you, you clear the bedroom quickly, moving into the formerly unconsidered parts of your home. Sirius asks you questions like a police interrogator: Where did you last see him? How big is he? How many nights has it been since you’re sure you slept with him? Did he go on holiday with you last weekend?

Your laundry bin is upturned, couch cushions removed, mementos you’ve not seen for years discovered and then quickly lost again in the rubble. 

When your boyfriends arrive, Remus takes one look at you and shepherds you away while James joins the search. He makes you tea and gives you enough of his soft, compassionate looks to melt you down to the bone. 

“I didn’t mean to make us all miss the film,” you tell him, steam warming your chin as you sit on the kitchen counter. “I was going to go, but Sirius…” 

You realize you sound like you’re tattling and stop. Remus only smiles at you indulgently, his brown eyes flickering with humor. 

“We didn’t think it was you who made that call,” he says. “But, sweetheart, no one is upset that we’re here. We wouldn’t want you to have to sit through a film while you’re upset.” 

“I’m not upset.” Your voice has the quiet weariness of a broken record. 

Remus studies you. You sip your tea to avoid it, trying not to squirm under his gaze. “You seem like you might be upset,” he says, an almost missable hint of teasing in his tone. 

“It’s stupid,” you admit. “I know he has to be here somewhere, there’s no point in worrying.” 

“I’m sure he is.” Remus rubs your leg, soothing. “You’re right, lovely, he’s probably just somewhere we haven’t—” 

“Found him!” James cries. 

You gasp, and Remus grins at your reaction. 

“Where?” Sirius bounds in from the sitting room. 

James comes from the opposite direction, holding your rabbit above his head like a trophy. He passes it to you with a flourish as you hop down from the counter. “Angel, your Moo Moo.” 

“So this is Moo Moo,” Sirius says, grinning. 

You feel suddenly defensive, bringing the grayed, ratty plushie close to your chest. “Yes.” 

“I love him.” 

“I think he’s handsome,” says Remus, also looking at him interestedly. 

“Caused a lot of trouble today, though,” Sirius tuts, “hasn’t he?” 

“Where’d you find him?” you ask James, eager to be out of the spotlight.

“He was wedged between your mattress and the wall.” Your boyfriend pouts. “Poor thing.” 

You frown. “I looked there.” 

“He was sort of in the corner.” James shrugs. “Rather easy to miss, I’m sure Sirius checked there too.” 

“Well, thank you,” you say shyly. Still holding the toy to your chest. “I might not have looked there again on my own.” 

“Seems a good thing we came over, hm?” Remus asks complacently. 

Your face heats. “Yeah.” 

“One more time, sweetness?” Sirius cocks his ear. “Not sure I heard you there.” 

“Yes,” you say again, fighting a smile. “Thank you for coming.” 

He grins at you, wrestling you into his side. “I don’t ever want to hear you arguing one of my ideas again.” 

“That seems a bit premature—” James starts to say. 

“Nope! Never again.”

[whosmariaaa]

— part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 !

— cw :: suggestive, murder, violence, attempted roofie

college! sukuna was not planning on giving up on you any time soon, no matter how upset you were. to put it simply, he was obsessed. checking your socials all the time, still trying to reach out every single day.

no girl had ever gotten under his skin like this. no one had ever made him feel like this. he didn’t even know he was capable of feeling like this about someone. and sukuna would be damned if he let you go now.

though it barely seemed to be working, because you weren’t falling for it. didn’t exactly stop him, as you would think, but gojo and toji decided to help him out for once.

they were in the lockers after basketball training, gojo and toji yapping about one of the cheerleaders. sukuna wasn’t listening. he was thinking about you, of course. how the hell could he not get you off his mind? did you put a spell on him or something?

then, gojo sat down next to him. “yo, sukuna. toji and i were thinking,” he started.

“shocking. didn’t think you two fucking idiots were even capable of that,” he sneered. gojo’s eye twitched, but he continued nonetheless.

“it’s kind of sad to see you still chasing y/n even after all that shit went down, and you’re kind of pathetic about it too,” gojo told him.

“kind of? you’re really fucking pathetic about it. seriously man, i’m pretty sure you’ve killed people before, and you’re all soft hearted for a girl who hasn’t shown you a speck of attention,” toji criticized.

feeling irritation rise, sukuna was about to snap back, but gojo quickly interrupted, “what toji’s trying to say, is that we want to help you. you’re our best friend for a reason,” he explained.

“why don’t you try to shit you used to pull with other girls? pretend like you don’t care, and they come running back, always works, right?” gojo added, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

sukuna scowled, “you two know how i feel about y/n. she isn’t just a quick fuck. and how the hell would that even work when she doesn’t even look my way?”

“yeah, we get it. but you should try it. because what you’re doing right now isn’t working for shit,” toji replied, sitting down next to gojo.

when sukuna went back to his dorm, he thought about it. maybe, it could work. maybe, it’d catch your attention. maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

so, plan in action, he stopped coming to you every single day. he practically was ignoring you now. he stopped talking to you altogether. stupid as it sounds, it was starting to piss you off. you had every right to ignore him. he in fact did not. was this perhaps a little petty? sure. did you care? no.

but, much to sukuna’s dismay, you let it rest. he had gotten on your nerves enough. he was finally leaving you alone, so you might as well take peace in it.

your not-so-secret admirer was however not taking peace in it, at all.

“damn, she’s still not crawling back?” toji noted, scratching his head when he saw how infuriated sukuna was with the entire situation.

“she’s just playing hard to get,” gojo replied, “she’ll be on her knees before you know it!”

honestly, sukuna would be on his knees for you a whole lot sooner than you would be for him. gojo and toji knew that too, but they were a little afraid of their friend breaking, so they were trying to keep their hopes high.

“no, she won’t. why the fuck did i fall for such a fucking bitch?” he scoffed.

“yeah, she is kind of bitch, though—” gojo laughed.

“don’t fucking talk about her like that,” sukuna warned firmly, grabbing gojo by the collar again.

“you literally said it first—”

“shut the fuck up.”

sukuna was again pried off gojo by toji, before he actually hurt him. though his friends finally stopped being asses about the entire situation, he still felt like losing his shit.

and that feeling continued when even the week after that, you didn’t seem to be losing sleep at all over his absence, while he definitely was over yours (you were actually still feeling petty he was ignoring you now, but you didn’t show it). it was ridiculous. why was he so infatuated with you? sukuna didn’t even know himself, and yet, he couldn’t bare to let you go. he was hooked.

he needed to get his mind off things. when toji invited him to a frat party, he immediately decided to go. last time he went was weeks ago, and he wanted to take his mind off things. what better way to do that than with alcohol, weed, and girls?

when he arrived at the party, gojo gave him a few shots to ease up. and sukuna immediately had his eyes on a girl, pretty, nice body. he just needed some more alchohol and weed to soothe the weird ache in his chest when he thought of other girls. girls that aren’t you.

though, that didn’t matter now. he took a few more shots, took a few blows of toji’s blunt, and went over to the girl. they talked for a bit, he was charming, and before they knew it, the girl was in his lap, making out with him while the music blared in their ears.

when she separated for some air, sukuna looked at her with his intense red eyes, then looked around his surroundings a bit. that’s when he saw you. you were chatting with some friends, but then your gazes met. neither of you were looking away, for a good 8 seconds.

“hey, c’mon babe, we can go upstairs to a room,” the girl whispered in his ear, dragging him back to reality. a scowl appeared on his face. he wasn’t thinking about sex, and definitely not with her.

which was strange, the old sukuna would’ve flashed her his signature grin and took her upstairs without a doubt. it seems you’ve genuinely tainted his mind. for the better or worse, he didn’t know.

he pushed her off his lap. “the fuck are you talking about?” he snarled. she gasped, catching herself barely as he went on his feet. he didn’t spare her a second glance as he went over to you, which is exactly when you two locked eye contact again.

“and what do you want?” you huffed impatiently, though the intense eye contact made you slightly nervous. huh? since when did sukuna make you nervous?

“why the hell are you here?” he demanded. you rolled your eyes, “and why does that concern you?”

he took a step closer, dangerously close as he hovered over you. “don’t play fucking games with me, y/n. i’m not in the mood. let me repeat myself, why the hell are you here?”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “because it’s my friends party? what’s your problem?” you responded.

“my problem is that you’ve been ignoring me for weeks, and i’m fucking sick of it. it was just a project, and you’re such a bitch about it,” he sneered.

“i had every right to be pissed about it, and you know that too. and i didn’t want to talk to you, because you’re an ass, but apparently you’re just stupid and can’t take a hint,” you snapped back, starting to feel annoyed again.

now you didn’t care about the unbroken eye contact, or your friends staring wordlessly, because this man was a champion at getting on your nerves.

“cry me a damn river. maybe you’re just a pissy bitch that can’t handle when life doesn’t go her way,” he scoffed.

you suppressed an offended gasp, but you definitely weren’t suppressing the slap you were about to give this man again. but, just when you were about to hit his cheek, sukuna caught your wrist, in a bruising grip too.

“don’t even fucking think about it. i’m not letting you get away with shit anymore, be glad i’m not breaking your wrist,” he warned. you were silently glaring at him, and he was glaring right back.

then, he dropped your wrist and walked off. “asshole…” you mumbled under your breath. seriously, what was his problem?

safe to say, both of you spend your night at the party away from each other. sukuna making out with several different girls, even around 2AM taking another upstairs, needing to think about something else.

you, however, spend your night with your friends, drinking a few shots, but not too much to get drunk or anything. you were trying not to think of his words, but damn they kind of hurt.

your friends eventually went back to their dorms. they asked you several times if you wanted to come too, but you knew that if there wasn’t any loud music, talking and drama surrounding you, you’d probably wallow in silence, so you refused and stayed. maybe you’d find some distraction, who knows?

and as if someone heard your thoughts, next to you suddenly sat a man with blue hair and pale skin.

“you look distressed,” he commented. was it really that obvious?

“nah, it’s nothing, really,” you smiled, shrugging it off. the guy smiled back, letting the topic rest.

“uh huh, y/n right?” he asked. “people know you’re off limits, because you’re apparently sukuna’s girl. but what i saw from earlier, that’s not so true, is it?”

your smile disappeared, and you rolled your eyes. “seriously? that’s what he’s been telling people? what a loser, honestly,” you grumbled. the guy chuckled.

“so it’s not wrong for me to assume you’re single?” he questioned. your eyes shot to him. maybe he was the distraction you were desperately needing.

“huh, no, not at all. what’s your name, then?” you queried.

he rested his chin in the palm of his hand, looking at you with a charming grin. “mahito, nice to meet you, y/n,” he greeted. you smiled at him. you did recognize his name. it gave you a suspicious feeling, but it was merely fleeting, so you shrugged it off.

you two talked for like an hour or so. mahito was a nice guy, but he did give you the creeps with what he was saying from time to time. but it was probably just the alcohol in your system, so you shrugged it off.

then, he eventually went off and got drinks for the both of you. you quickly checked your phone.

“hey babe, hope ur feeling better by now, lemme know how the parties going xxx” your friends text read. you smiled at the sweet message, and quickly texted back about the tea, telling about how you met a new guy.

then, a few seconds after you send press and shut your phone off, he sat down next to you again. the two of you continued talking, and you took a few sips of your drink. but as the minutes past by, suddenly you felt like things were spinning. you felt dizzy.

your heart sank.

with quick thinking, you got on your feet and excused yourself to the bathroom with a calm smile. you were anything but calm. you couldn’t think clearly. you went into the bathroom, locking the door.

had he put something in your drink? had he drugged you? did he attempt to roofie you? you were panicking. all of your friends had gone to their dorms, and they would never make it on time. you didn’t know a soul in this party, and everyone was either drunk or stoned. what the hell were you supposed to do? and when mahito was going to inevitably notice you were gone for too long… you were starting to hyperventilate.

your head was spinning like crazy, and you felt your throat close up.

sukuna wasn’t focusing on shit right now. he had a girl on his dick, but he still felt slightly off. but he forced himself to enjoy it nonetheless. that was until his phone rang. he hung up without looking at the name. it was probably gojo or toji trying to pester him. then, his phone went off again, and again.

“who the hell is that?” she asked, breathlessly but still irritated.

he didn’t even care to reply to her. when his phone went off once more, he let out an annoyed sigh and looked at the name. it was you. he felt his irritation rise.

but he did pick up after two rings. “what the fuck do you want, y/n? if it wasn’t clear already, don’t try shit right now,” he snapped angrily.

it was silent on the other end of the line. sukuna was tempted to hang up, until he heard a little sob. he suddenly felt a rush of confusion, and maybe even concern.

“where are you?” you sniffled quietly.

“still at the party,” he replied as he sat up. the girl, just as stoned and tipsy as him, looked at him confusion.

“please help me, sukuna. i don’t know what the fuck happened, but i— i was talking with this guy, mahito or something, and i think he put something in my drink,” you stuttered out. his breath hitched slightly at the implication, and then he felt his fists clench, a wave of anger hit him.

sure, you guys were fighting, or whatever it was, but that man was still head over heels, no matter how much he wanted to push it down. and he was going to beat this guy to death for ever thinking he could touch you.

sukuna had already pushed off two other girls for you before, might as welk make it three. the girl whined drunkly, but he couldn’t care less. he pulled on his boxer and pants, and quickly threw on a shirt.

“where the fuck are you?” he asked, his tone dangerously low as he left the room, not looking back at the girl.

“bathroom d— downstairs,” you stammered. things were going fuzzy, some parts of your vision even black. you could barely keep your eyes open. “please hurry,” you cried softly.

and that tone, that panicked, helpless tone set something off in him. he was downstairs in just a few seconds, roughly shoving aside anyone in his way. no one dared to say anything, because no one had ever seen sukuna this angry before. people around fell into a tense silence, wondering what the hell happened.

as soon as he saw the bathroom door, he went to open it. and when it didn’t budge, he slammed his fist into the wooden door without a doubt, and turned the lock from the inside. his fist was covered with his blood, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

then sukuna saw you, on the floor, barely conscious. you were trembling, big tears rolling across your cheeks. it was so unlike you. you were always so fierce, and just then, he decided that he loathed seeing you cry.

he grabbed you, an arm around your waist. “it’s okay, baby, i’m here. no one’s fucking touching you,” sukuna reassured. you felt… safe in his arms, as much as you hated to admit it.

“i still fucking hate you, don’t get me wrong,” you mumbled, though your voice cracked slightly.

“uh huh, sure thing, baby,” he replied. but then, everything went black. sukuna had made it on time, but he felt a strange ache in his heart thinking about what if he hadn’t. he picked you up, weirdly gently for his doing, and went to the other side of the house, where he knew toji and gojo were at.

“yo, sukuna, we heard you finally had sex with a girl aga— is that y/n?” gojo questioned, flabbergasted. toji immediately turned his head.

“what the hell happened?” toji asked, immediately stepping over.

“some fucking idiot roofied her. take her to my car,” he ordered, putting you in toji’s arms. but gojo and toji were too slow for his liking.

“i’ll shoot both of you in the fucking head if you don’t get her out of here in two seconds,” sukuna said in a tone that told them he wasn’t playing around.

“chill out, man,” toji replied, though he was already on the move. sukuna had threatened them many times, but this was different. he was genuinely angry now, and he could get dangerous when he was.

“you’re going to kill that guy, aren’t you?” gojo asked, his usual teasing tone gone. he was dead serious. sukuna’s silence told him all he needed to know. gojo nodded and went after toji.

as soon as they were out of the frat house, he turned on his heel and approached the first person he saw.

“where’s mahito?” he asked. everyone knew the guy, everyone but apparently you. he was a real creep on campus. he’d never roofie anyone before, but honestly, no one’d put it past him.

“uh, in the bathroom. the same bathroom of which you kicked my door down, by the way, you’re paying for that—” the guy started, but sukuna’s menacing stare shut him up real quickly.

and just like he said, there mahito was. in the bathroom where you said you were going a while back, he looked around in confusion, oblivious to the storm behind him.

just when he was about to turn around, his head smashed into the stone-tiled wall three times, the white tiles now colored red.

“you fucking dumbass,” mahito heard in his ear as he was turned around, his back now slammed against the wall. a strong hand on his throat keeping him there.

“well, well, well, if it isn’t sukuna,” mahito taunted playfully, as if he didn’t have blood dripping down from his forehead. “was starting to wonder when you’d start looking for your little y/n,” he added.

“say her name again, i fucking dare you,” he snarled. mahito knew better than that.

“i’m just saying, i could’ve had a great time with her, until you had to go and ruin things,” mahito teased, flashing him a sickening smile. then a harsh left hook to his face shut him up, sending even more splatters of blood to the wall.

“let’s see if you can talk this tough when we’re outside,” sukuna replied, his tone scarily even. just like that, he dragged mahito outside, not like anyone was watching anyways because everyone went back to partying.

sukuna beat him up till he was bloody and bruised, and even then he didn’t stop. it was a gory sight, one that would’ve made anyone sick. he didn’t care, even as mahito’s face was crooked from amount of punches he had taken. mahito couldn’t even scream or beg for his life anymore, even though he was in excruciating pain. he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

he had no mercy. his hands were painted red from mahito’s blood, he punched until there was practically nothing to punch anymore. and then, nothing. he wasn’t breathing anymore, no pulse.

sukuna had indeed killed people before, he wasn’t ashamed of it. toji and gojo had done so too, none of them had been caught before. none of the other murders were necessary, just guys who pissed them off. but mahito?

he crossed a line thinking he could hurt you. no matter how much you hated him, sukuna was scarily attached to you ever since that day you called him out. so much so that he would apparently kill for you. romantic, no?

as he stared at mahito’s mangled face, he suddenly got a call from gojo. “what?” sukuna grumbled.

“y/n woke up a few minutes ago, she’s asking for you, well, more like demanding,” gojo replied. you were asking for him? that shamefully made his heart skip a beat.

“you kill the guy yet?” toji asked.

“yeah, we’re in the alleyway. can you guys clean this shit up and take him with your car? i’ll be with y/n in a second,” he proposed. they agreed, and before he knew it he was in his car with you in the passenger’s seat.

you were shaken up, confused, but you felt oddly safe. sukuna was quiet too, giving you time to process as he drived you to the dorms. you decided to not comment on his bloodied hands for your own sake.

and eventually, you found yourself in his dorm. you took a shower, and he gave you his hoodie to sleep in. he even gave you food and water.

all that frustration you felt for sukuna this past weeks, suddenly just disappeared. he had saved you, maybe even saved your life, and now he’s treating you so well.

sure, you were still upset about you failing your class, but you could finally forgive him for all that. honestly, if you told yourself a week ago that you forgave him, you wouldn’t possibly believe yourself.

and you would also never believe yourself if you said that you were now laying in sukuna’s bed, wrapped in his arms.

“how do you feel, baby?” he asked softly, a tone you’d never think he’d be able to use.

“could be better,” you murmured quietly. a silence fell over you two, it wasn’t uncomfortable. you didn’t feel uncomfortable either. who would’ve thought?

you looked up slightly at him, meeting his eyes. “thank you for all that,” you told him, smiling lightly. “i think i can perhaps, maybe forgive you now for that 49%.”

sukuna just slightly furrowed his eyebrows, before grabbing your chin and pulling you into a kiss. you leaned into it, not pushing him away.

he pulled away, looking into your eyes. “no one’s ever going to fucking hurt you again, i’m serious, you got that?” he promised.

“yeah. sounds pretty serious to me,” you replied, not being same to hide your smile. he just huffed, and kissed you again. a few hours later, you fell asleep in his arms.

now, college boyfriend! sukuna was the happiest man alive. he still dominated the basketball court, still got plenty good grades, had his best friends gojo and toji. and the one thing he will forever love most and cherish in life, you, his girl. and with that, sukuna was ready to kill and die for you, always.

──★˙🍓̟!! expectations were high for me, so i think i delivered guys!! genuinely proud of this one. this is kinda crazy since it’s the last part, and again i can simply not express how thankful i am for all of you!!!! and i HAD to eventually let sukuna do something violent for once, because it’s sukuna ofc. and no, i do absolutely not, ever ever, condone violence or murder!!!!! love sukuna to death but if he was real you wouldn’t catch me in a 100 km radius from him🥀🥀

— taglist ! @imlikeacoffeeconnoisseur @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @seizecherry @xlilycoco @v1x3n @go-go-gadget-autism @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @paradisestarfishh @misticsilver @whosmarjj @aquariusscollection @satorushousewife @rwirxles @anonnieghost @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee @iminloveweveryone @poopooindamouf @phisen @ryomku @erintaro @clp-84 @mastermasterlist1p1 @katsukiseyebrows @iioveoldermen @happy2delivur @jup1tersuccubus @nxcxllxsevens @realalpacorn @kxgumi @crankyarchives @itsjustisa @junitries @kodzukensworld @desiretolive @bnbaochauuu @tomsxslvt @flwerie @bwlol7 @szuuyl @yourfavbabigirl @grignardsreagent @my-sin-my-soul-my-hell @nothankyew @yourangel04 🍓

[rizzanon]

07-1 | PARANOIA AT ITS FINEST

m.list | prev | next

“I can’t believe you’ve actually roped us into this.”

Caitlyn’s voice cut through the soft hum of chatter filling the orphanage’s main hall, carrying that distinct tone of exasperation she reserved for situations she swore she wouldn’t get involved in—but inevitably did anyway. Her arms were crossed, her stance one of feigned reluctance, but the way her gaze flickered to the children running past, the small, almost imperceptible twitch of her lips as one of them called out her name—it told a different story.

Adrien snorted beside her, nudging her side. “Oh, please. You say that like you’re not already attached to half these kids.”

Caitlyn scoffed, glancing away as if that would somehow disprove his statement. It didn’t.

It had been a week. A week since you first suggested volunteering here. A week since you first stepped into this building and felt something settle beneath your skin—something quiet, something wrong.

And yet—

Nothing.

There was nothing.

No alarms. No leads. No proof. No reason to feel this way.

Even after you snuck into the cave to tap into the Batcomputer—timing it precisely for when no one would be around, combed through records, permits, reports, and analyzed every file you could find that could tell you that this place wasn’t what it seemed—nothing. The orphanage was clean. The reports were routine. The funding sources checked out.

And that was what upset you the most.

It should have been a relief.

But it wasn’t.

Because you still couldn’t shake that feeling. That deep, gut-wrenching sensation that something was staring you in the face, something was waiting just beneath the surface, something was wrong.

Because you knew—you knew—you were missing something.

But what?

You stared across the room, watching the way the children moved, how the staff interacted with them, how everything seemed so perfect. Too perfect. The kind of perfect that made your stomach twist, that made something cold crawl up your spine because nothing in Gotham was ever truly perfect.

You crossed your arms, fingers digging into your sleeves, tension knotting itself between your ribs.

You could really use Tim’s smartness right now—

The thought barely formed before you crushed it.

No.

You weren’t going to burden him with this.

Things were still… complicated. You had distanced yourself for a reason. Bringing him into this would only drag up all the messy emotions you weren’t ready to deal with.

Maybe—maybe this really was just you overreacting.

Maybe you were seeing ghosts where there weren’t any.

Maybe that “vision” you saw was something made up in your head.

But that doesn’t explain why it was so vivid. Why it felt so raw, so real—

“You’re doing that thing again.”

Caitlyn’s voice pulled you back, and you blinked, finding both her and Adrien watching you with unreadable expressions.

“What thing?”

“You always get that look,” Adrien added, arms still crossed but his smirk growing. “Like you’re five seconds away from spiraling into an existential crisis.”

“I do not—”

“You do,” Caitlyn confirmed immediately. “You get all quiet, and your face does this thing where you look like you’re trying to solve the world’s biggest mystery when, in reality, you’re probably just making stuff up in your head.”

“I do not.”

Adrien huffed out a laugh. “Oh, yeah? Then what were you just thinking about?”

You opened your mouth, then promptly shut it, refusing to dignify that with an answer.

Caitlyn gave you a knowing look. “That’s what I thought.”

“Can we focus on something else?” You huffed, shifting your weight to one side. “Like the fact that you two are terrible influences?”

Adrien snorted. “You’re the one who dragged us into this.”

“You didn’t have to come,” you pointed out.

“You think we’d actually let you volunteer at an orphanage alone?” Caitlyn raised a brow. “Be real.”

You exhaled through your nose, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“You should be thanking us,” Adrien added smugly. “Especially since we’re the ones keeping you sane.”

“You call this sane?”

“Well,” Caitlyn starts, “you haven’t completely lost your mind yet, so I’d say we’re doing a decent job.”

Before you could respond, a familiar weight latched onto your side, small hands gripping onto the fabric of your sleeve.

Elliot.

You glanced down, only to be met with the boy’s wide, expectant gaze.

Elliot had latched onto you like a baby duck the second you stepped foot in this place again, and over the past few days, he had only gotten more attached. He followed you everywhere, immediately sought you out whenever you arrived, and if you so much as moved an inch away from him, he was quick to close the distance again.

And truth be told—you weren’t used to this.

This kind of closeness.

Not really.

Of course, you had experience closeness with Caitlyn and Adrien.

But Elliot—

Elliot was different.

Elliot didn’t hesitate.

Elliot didn’t keep his distance.

Elliot clung to you like you were something safe.

And you didn’t know how to handle that.

Not when you didn’t even feel safe with yourself.

“Aren’t you gonna play with us today, (Name)?” His voice was soft, hopeful, like he had already decided that whatever you answered, he wasn’t going to accept a no.

You hesitated, opening your mouth—only to stop when he gave you that look. The one you were slowly realizing was his greatest weapon. The one that made your defenses crumble.

The wide-eyed, unblinking stare.

The slight, pleading tilt of his head.

The tiniest wobble of his lower lip.

It was lethal.

And the worst part? He knew it.

“…Yeah,” you found yourself saying before you could even think about it. “Yeah, okay. Just give me a minute, okay?”

Elliot beamed.

If you had even an ounce less self-control, you might have visibly melted.

You watched as the boy ran off towards where the other kids were playing.

“Oh my god,” Caitlyn whispered dramatically.

“Precious,” Adrien added, looking between the two of you like he had just discovered his new favorite thing in the world.

“You two need to get a grip.”

“It’s cute,” Caitlyn commented. “You’ve basically adopted him at this point.”

“I have not.”

“You so have,” Adrien smirked. “It’s adorable.”

“You two seriously need hobbies.”

Caitlyn just grinned. “Says the person who dragged us here for no apparent reason.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell them it wasn’t for no reason, that there was something wrong with this place—

But then the air shifted.

The room didn’t go quiet, not really. The children were still playing, voices still carrying, footsteps still echoing against the floor. But something in the atmosphere changed, something subtle yet immediate, something that made the back of your neck prickle.

Something you felt more than saw.

A presence.

Mrs. Cole.

She entered the hall with a soft, pleasant smile, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her posture calm, collected, perfect.

And yet—

Something in you immediately recoiled.

It had been this way from the beginning. The first time you met her. The first time she spoke to you. That deep, instinctive discomfort—the kind you couldn’t explain, the kind that settled beneath your skin and refused to leave.

And the worst part?

You were alone in that feeling.

Adrien and Caitlyn greeted her like normal, their smiles easy, their voices light. The other volunteers, the staff, the children—they all liked her.

But you—

You just stood there.

Watching.

Waiting.

And that gnawing feeling of unease only grew stronger.

Because something was wrong.

But you just couldn’t see it.

Mrs. Cole approached with the same composed, effortless grace she always carried—her steps measured, her smile gentle, the kind of expression that made it impossible to distrust her. She looked at ease, radiating a warmth that made people lean in instead of pull away.

But you didn’t lean in.

You were staring.

“Ah, there you all are.” Her voice was warm, measured, like honey drizzling over words that had been carefully chosen before she even spoke them. “I was just telling the staff how lucky we are to have such dedicated volunteers.”

Caitlyn beamed. “Well, it’s been great so far! The kids are all super sweet.”

You were watching.

Mrs. Cole’s reaction came exactly when it should. A gentle smile, an approving nod—textbook-perfect in a way that sent something unpleasant curling in your stomach.

“You’ve been wonderful with them,” she said smoothly. “They’ve taken quite a liking to all of you.”

A normal thing to say. A reasonable thing to say. And yet—

Something about it snagged in your brain, like a thread pulled too tight.

They’ve taken quite a liking to all of you.

Not “you’ve made a great impact on them.”

Not “they enjoy having you around.”

The wording was… off.

Why was it off?

You barely noticed Adrien chuckling beside you. “Well, Caitlyn’s the favorite, obviously. The girls follow her around like ducklings.”

Caitlyn nudged him. “Please. You’re the one they treat like a jungle gym.”

Mrs. Cole gave a small, polite laugh, like she was indulging their banter rather than truly engaging in it.

You noticed that.

You noticed everything.

You noticed how detached it felt, how it landed exactly where it needed to but carried no real weight.

The way her shoulders never fully relaxed, despite her friendly demeanor. The way her eyes lingered just a second too long before moving on. The way her responses never carried the slight unpredictability that came with casual conversation—everything was too smooth, too well-placed.

You noticed that.

And then—her eyes flicked to you.

There was no shift in expression, no telltale sign that she had noticed you just staring, analyzing every micro-movement, every carefully placed word. But the second her eyes met yours, you felt something in you go rigid, your body instinctively preparing to mask whatever she might have caught.

Which, ironically, felt unnatural.

Because you couldn’t let her see that you were suspicious of her.

“And you,” she said, the warmth in her tone undisturbed, like she hadn’t just caught you in the act of scrutinizing her. “Elliot seems especially fond of you. It’s lovely to see how much he trusts you already.”

You ignored the way Caitlyn and Adrien both smiled knowingly at the mention of Elliot’s attachment to you.

You knew you should say something pleasant. Something easy. Something neutral. Something normal.

Instead, the words that came out were flat, toneless.

“Yeah. He’s a good kid.”

An awkward pause.

Too short to be obvious, too long to go completely unnoticed.

Caitlyn’s smile faltered slightly. Adrien shifted beside you, like he could feel the weird tension in the air but wasn’t sure if he should acknowledge it.

And Mrs. Cole?

She didn’t even blink.

She absorbed the bluntness of your answer like it didn’t affect her at all, her expression remaining perfectly composed, perfectly pleasant, as if she hadn’t just been met with a wall.

“That he is,” she agreed, gracefully moving past it, as though she hadn’t just walked into a conversational dead end. “Well, I won’t keep you from the children. Thank you again for all your help.”

She excused herself with the same quiet ease she always carried, stepping away to tend to the other kids.

The second she was out of earshot—

Adrien whirled on you. “Okay, what the hell was that?”

Caitlyn groaned. “God, could you have been any drier? That was painful.”

You exhaled sharply. “I answered her, didn’t I?”

“You barely did,” Adrien shot back. “You sounded like someone forced you to acknowledge Elliot at gunpoint.”

Caitlyn smacked your arm lightly. “Dude, what’s your deal with her?”

You crossed your arms. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s definitely not nothing,” Adrien shot back. “You’ve been like this since day one. What is your deal with her?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

How were you supposed to explain this?

What were you supposed to say?

That something about her felt wrong, but you couldn’t prove it? That every interaction with her left you feeling like you had just missed something? That her presence made you instinctively wary in a way you couldn’t rationalize?

That no matter how hard you looked, you still couldn’t find anything to justify it?

“…I just don’t like her,” you muttered.

Adrien scoffed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Caitlyn and Adrien weren’t going to let this go.

You knew it from the second Caitlyn narrowed her eyes at you, that sharp stare she always gave when she smelled something off—when she knew someone wasn’t telling the full story. Her arms were crossed, her weight shifted slightly onto one foot, but there was a tension there, like she was waiting.

Adrien was the same. Standing beside her, his arms folded, his brow raised in quiet expectation. He wasn’t impatient—not yet—but he was watching you, like he was giving you the chance to explain yourself before he dragged it out of you.

You didn’t give them anything.

Adrien broke the silence first. “Okay, seriously. What is your problem with her?”

“I don’t have a problem with her,” you replied immediately.

Too fast. Too sharp.

Adrien scoffed. “Right. You just happen to tense up like a goddamn statue every time she’s around.”

Caitlyn gave a dramatic huff. “You act like she personally wronged you in another life. Or murdered your dogs or something.”

“Titus and Ace are fine…” you muttered.

“Exactly!” she said, exasperated. “That’s what makes this so weird! There’s no reason for you to act like this!”

You didn’t respond.

But Adrien wasn’t done. “Look, if she said something to you, if she did something—”

“She didn’t.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

Another lie.

But you said it so smoothly, so effortlessly, that it almost sounded convincing.

Almost.

Caitlyn’s eyes flicked over your face, sharp and discerning, scanning every microexpression, every flicker of something that might betray you. Adrien wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his suspicion anymore.

Yet, you still didn’t give them anything.

You were stubborn. Tight-lipped. Unyielding.

Because you couldn’t tell them.

Not yet.

Not when you still didn’t know what was wrong.

So instead, you acted.

Acted like everything was fine.

Like you weren’t uneasy.

Like you weren’t drowning in the feeling that something was slipping through your fingers.

Your gaze drifted past them—toward Mrs. Cole.

She was across the room, surrounded by children, laughing at something one of them had said. She knelt slightly, leveling herself to their height, hands gentle as she adjusted the collar of one child’s shirt. She was warm, present, soft-spoken—exactly what a warden of an orphanage should be.

And yet—

You couldn’t shake it.

That feeling.

That deep, gnawing unease that clung to your ribs like a second skin.

You watched her closely. The way she spoke, the way she smiled, the way her hands moved as she patted a child’s head. Everything was measured. Natural.

But was it?

Or was it too natural?

Too perfect?

Her movements were fluid, seamless, her expressions genuine. Nothing about her demeanor was off. Nothing about her gave you any reason—any reason at all—to feel this way.

And that was what unsettled you the most.

Because there had to be something.

There had to be a reason.

You just couldn’t see it.

Gotham was shifting.

Bruce could feel it.

It wasn’t something obvious—no, this was something far more subtle. A change beneath the surface, insidious and creeping. It was the kind of shift that haunted the shadows, leaving behind nothing but the unsettling sense that something was on the brink of happening. Bruce had learned to trust that feeling, that gnawing instinct that had saved Gotham more times than he could count. And right now, it was telling him that something was very, very wrong.

Another murder. A woman in her early twenties, found in a dark alley just outside a prestigious club.

Bruce sat at the Batcomputer, his fingers hovering over the keys, eyes tracing the same reports for the hundredth time.

This was the third this month.

There was nothing connecting the three victims, other than the fact that they were all young Gotham socialites.

But there was something else.

The way they were murdered. Stabbed and slashed. And the slashes—those markings—they were unmistakable.

They all had markings from a Talon. Meaning—

The Court of Owls.

Gotham was shifting, sliding beneath the surface like a shadow.

And he knew that feeling.

He had felt it before.

It wasn’t paranoia. It was an instinct.

An instinct he’d developed after all these years, after all the lies and manipulation, after the near-destruction of Gotham.

He couldn’t afford to let it happen again.

The last time the Court of Owls made their presence known, it was a brutal awakening.

The Court had been quiet for months since then. But the stillness only made him more wary. He knew how they worked—silent, methodical, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And now, with another death on his hands, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Court was making its move again.

And then, as if Gotham’s problems weren’t enough, another report came through. The Riddler had escaped Arkham. Again.

It had barely been two weeks since Riddler’s last stunt. Arkham had barely contained him long enough to let the city breathe before he escaped again.

Bruce could feel the weight of both issues pressing down on him, the combination of old ghosts and new ones tangled together in a knot that was suffocating.

He rubbed his temples, trying to block out the noise, the weight of it all. Gotham was shifting, and every move it made felt like it was slipping further out of his control.

And Bruce had no doubt—Nygma had already set the board.

His fingers moved across the keyboard, cycling through city surveillance, tracking movements, patterns, anything that might give him a lead. There was always a pattern with Riddler. Always a thread to follow. But right now, with the Court making their move from the shadows, Gotham couldn’t afford another high-profile attack.

He needed to tackle this immediately.

He rubbed a hand over his face, then ran it through his hair. It was too much. Too many pieces of the puzzle scattered in front of him, too many possibilities. But there was no time.

His gaze focused on the web of information splayed across the massive screen—patterns, reports, whispers of activity. Pieces that didn’t quite fit yet, but he could see the shape they were forming.

Behind him, Dick leaned against the table, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He was here. He was listening. He was doing everything Bruce had asked of him.

But Bruce could tell.

He was distracted.

Not in a way that was obvious. Not in a way that would compromise the mission. But it was there.

A slight delay in his responses. The way his gaze lingered on nothing for a second too long. The tension in his posture—not the kind that came from exhaustion, but from something else.

Bruce had seen it before.

But this time, he didn’t know what was causing it.

Not exactly.

He’d been watching him for days now, and every time they spoke, it felt like Dick wasn’t really there. His focus was on the case, sure, but it wasn’t complete. There was something else pulling at him. Bruce had tried to push it aside—he couldn’t afford to get distracted by personal issues, not with Gotham at risk—but it was hard to ignore. Dick wasn’t just distracted. He was withdrawn. And Bruce had seen that behaviour before. He knew that behaviour.

It was the way Dick stood, his arms crossed, his jaw clenched, his eyes never fully meeting Bruce’s. It was the way he moved through the cave like he was running on autopilot. Like he wasn’t really present. Like he was fighting something inside of him. And the longer Bruce let it go unspoken, the more it gnawed at him. Because Bruce knew Dick better than anyone. He knew when something was eating at him. And he couldn’t let it fester.

Not now.

“What’s on your mind?”

Dick blinked, looking up from where he had been staring at the ground. “What?”

Bruce glanced at him. “You’re distracted.”

Dick huffed out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not distracted.”

Bruce didn’t say anything. Just watched him.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little distracted.”

Bruce didn’t push. He just waited.

For a second, it seemed like Dick wasn’t going to say anything else. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and Bruce saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. It was that familiar look—the one Dick wore when he was trying to hold something back. Bruce could see it now. The weight he was carrying, the quiet frustration. He could see it, feel it, radiating off of him in waves. He shifted, arms tightening around himself. Then, finally—

“It’s (Name).”

Bruce’s shoulders tensed.

Of course.

He had heard bits from Alfred. How you were avoiding Dick, the way he had been silently carrying the weight of your distance. The way you hadn’t been talking to Dick the way you used to.

Bruce could feel it too.

Alfred had asked him to check on you. It shouldn’t have been that hard. Except, for some reason, he could never find a moment with you.

Not really.

Had it always been this hard?

No. That wasn’t right. He would’ve noticed if it had been.

Wouldn’t he?

But now Bruce was thinking, really thinking.

The last few weeks. The subtle shifts in your behavior, the way you had started slipping through the cracks before he could catch you. The way Alfred had gently suggested—more than once—that he should talk to you. The way you never seemed to be in the same room as him anymore.

The way he couldn’t remember the last time you had really spoken to him.

Not since you decided to quit being Batgirl.

Ah.

Was that what this was about?

Him letting you quit?

He had given you space because that was what he always did—he never pried, never pushed, never asked for more than you were willing to give.

But what if that was the problem.

What if he had let you drift too far?

His fingers curled against the edge of the desk, a slow, controlled movement. He hadn’t wanted to think about it before. Hadn’t wanted to believe it. Because the idea of you avoiding him—

It wasn’t possible.

Was it?

Bruce’s throat felt tight, and he didn’t understand why.

Dick exhaled sharply beside him, running a hand through his hair. “She barely looks at me anymore.” His voice was quiet, resigned. “But you already knew that.”

Bruce swallowed.

No. He hadn’t. Not really.

But if he admitted that you were avoiding Dick, then he’d have to admit that you were avoiding him too.

And he couldn’t accept that.

He wouldn’t.

He wasn’t sure why the thought unsettled him as much as it did. People had walked away from him before—people he had cared about, people who had once looked at him the way you used to. And he had let them go, because that was what he did. He didn’t hold onto things that weren’t his to keep.

But this was different.

Because it was you.

You. His daughter.

His flesh.

His blood.

Bruce exhaled slowly, letting the silence stretch between him and Dick. He wanted to ask—wanted to know just how far this distance had spread—but he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer.

Dick, however, wasn’t finished.

“I don’t even blame her,” he admitted, his voice quiet, restrained, like he had already gone over this a thousand times in his head. Maybe he had. “She has every right to be pissed at me. I just—” His voice faltered for a second before he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’s different now. She doesn’t look at me the same way. I don’t think she ever will again.”

Bruce studied him carefully. He could see it—the guilt, the regret that had been eating at him.

But what unsettled Bruce the most wasn’t Dick’s regret. It was the realization that he had assumed this was only about Dick.

That it had never once occurred to him that you were avoiding him too.

The thought lodged itself in his chest like a shard of glass. A slow, cutting thing that he couldn’t pull free.

No. That wasn’t—

You weren’t avoiding him.

You wouldn’t.

Would you?

If it was true, if you were avoiding him, it was just—just a misunderstanding. Just—

His jaw tightened.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not with you.

Of all the people he had failed, of all the people who had ever walked away from him, you were the one person he thought would never do that.

But had you?

Had you already left, and he just hadn’t noticed?

Bruce didn’t react. Not immediately, at least.

But Dick saw it.

The shift. The way Bruce’s shoulders tensed just slightly, the tightening of his grip against the edge of the console, the way his jaw locked. To most people, it would’ve looked like nothing. Just another one of Bruce Wayne’s unreadable silences. But Dick had spent too many years watching, reading between the lines, noticing the things that no one else did.

Bruce’s silence was never empty. It was full. Full of things he didn’t say, things he wouldn’t say.

And right now?

Right now, Bruce wasn’t just listening. He was realising something.

Dick exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s what I thought.”

He hadn’t meant to bring you up—not like this, not here. But Bruce had called him distracted, and, well… he wasn’t wrong.

You had been stuck in his head for days. Weeks.

Every unanswered call. Every delayed text. Every excuse you made to get away from him as soon as possible.

Dick had tried. God, he had tried.

That lunch a few days ago—he had been hopeful, maybe even stupidly so, thinking that things could be… normal. That he could talk to you without feeling like there was a wall between you both, that you wouldn’t keep him at arm’s length.

But the moment you saw him, you were already looking for an exit.

You barely stayed long enough to eat. Said you were busy. That you had somewhere to be.

And Dick had let you go.

What else could he have done?

You had every right to do this. To be mad, to resent him, to ignore him, to pretend like he didn’t exist.

He deserved it.

Especially after what he did.

Especially after what he’s been doing for years now.

It’s not like he didn’t understand your anger towards him. He did.

He knew what it was like to feel replaced, he experienced it first-hand. He should have understood what he was doing the moment he benched you. He should have known how it’d feel like to you.

He should have handled it better. Especially since he knew at the time, you were still grieving.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. That this didn’t hurt.

But… this wasn’t just about him benching you, was it?

No.

This wasn’t the first time he made you feel like this, was it?

This wasn’t the first time he’s made you feel like you didn’t belong.

Like you were something temporary—something easily set aside.

Maybe that was the worst part.

How long had it been like this?

How long had he been like this?

He swallowed hard, staring blankly at the Batcomputer screen, but his mind was already somewhere else.

The first time he saw you, you were a baby.

He hadn’t even really processed it at the time.

Everything had been a blur—his parents were dead, his life had been turned upside down, and now he was in some massive, unfamiliar mansion with a man he barely knew and a butler who spoke to him with a kind of patience he didn’t know how to handle.

And then there was you.

You’d been brought to the manor not long after he had arrived.

A tiny thing, barely able to walk on your own.

He remembered that moment, the moment Alfred brought you into the manor. That moment burned into his memory in a way he never really questioned before. Maybe because it had been one of the only stable things in those early days, when the ground had been ripped out from under him and his life had been shattered beyond repair.

He hadn’t thought much about you at first.

He hadn’t thought much about anything except the overwhelming, gut-wrenching anger that had settled in his chest, the grief that was still raw and sharp, the sheer, desperate need for revenge that burned beneath his skin.

So he ignored you.

Or at least, he tried to.

Because you didn’t ignore him.

It didn’t matter.

It shouldn’t matter.

But time had a way of changing things.

Little by little, your presence became something else.

He didn’t know when it started. When you stopped being a stranger and started being—

Well.

You were way younger than him, but that never stopped you from being stubborn, from trying to talk to him, from wanting him to be happy. And maybe that was what got to him the most.

That innocence. That kindness.

You just wanted him to smile.

And, somehow, eventually, he did.

He hadn’t known how to deal with you.

You weren’t annoying, exactly.

You were just—

There.

Soft and small and persistent, constantly hovering on the edges of his grief, constantly reminding him that there was still something else in this house besides darkness and vengeance.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

Because somewhere along the way, things changed.

He wasn’t sure when.

Maybe it was the first time you climbed onto the couch beside him and fell asleep against his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe it was the first time you grabbed his hand and pulled him outside, insisting that he chase you around the garden, that he play with you, that he let himself just be a kid, if only for a little while.

Maybe it was the first time you hugged him, your tiny arms wrapping around his waist, telling him that you loved him in the simple, easy way that only children could.

Whatever it was, it had stuck.

You had become his family.

His little sister.

His responsibility.

Dick didn’t know how much of who he is today had been shaped by you, but it was more than he’d ever admit.

And maybe that was why he wanted to keep you away from the truth for so long.

From the pain, from the violence, from the endless cycle of grief and vengeance that had become his life.

He didn’t want to ruin that part of you.

Didn’t want you to know about the things he did at night. Didn’t want you to see the kind of world he and Bruce lived in.

So he never told you about Robin.

Not at first.

Not for a long time.

Not when he went on to build a new name for himself.

Not when he left Gotham and became Nightwing.

You didn’t need to know.

You weren’t supposed to know.

You were supposed to have a normal life. A safe life. One that wasn’t filled with violence and blood and pain.

That was what Bruce had wanted for you.

That was what he had wanted for you.

That was why he hadn’t told you.

And maybe—maybe, that had been a mistake.

Because when you had found out that day—

When Tim sought him out, asking him to be Robin again. When he had come to Dick with that relentless, unwavering certainty that he needed to be Robin again. That Batman needed a partner. That Gotham needed balance.

After Jason’s death had fractured something irreparably in Bruce, in Alfed, in you, in him—

God, Jason’s death.

The guilt gnawed at him, relentless, insidious, something he never let himself think about too long.

Because Jason had died wearing his colors.

Jason had died playing the role Dick had walked away from.

Being Robin. And being your brother.

Jason had died, and Dick hadn’t even been there.

Not for Bruce, not for Alfred, and not for you.

Dick hadn’t been there to stop him from taking on the job, he had not been there to stop him from going to Ethiopia, hadn’t been there to—

He just wasn’t there.

And you—

You didn’t even know the true cause of Jason’s death.

You had to find out the truth about Jason’s death—

The truth about the lives he and Bruce led—

From some random kid who somehow knew the truth before you did.

Instead of hearing it from him. From Bruce.

God.

He still remembers the way you looked at him on the day you found out the truth.

The moment you stepped into the cave that Bruce had hid from you for years.

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your expression unreadable—except for your eyes.

Your eyes were always so damn expressive.

And that day, they had been filled with something that made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Betrayal.

Dick could feel Tim watching from across the cave.

He wasn’t saying anything—wasn’t even moving—but he was there, standing next to Alfred at the bottom of the stairs, barely in the shadows.

Dick almost felt sorry for the boy, for having to witness some family drama he wasn’t apart of unravel before him. But then again, he walked himself into this the moment he went to find him.

“…How long?”

Your voice was steady. Controlled.

But he knew you. Did he?

Knew how your hands clenched subtly at your sides when you were trying to keep yourself from shaking.

Knew how you bit the inside of your cheek when you were trying not to cry.

You were trying not to cry.

And it’s all his fault.

“…How long have you been lying to me?”

He didn’t know how to answer that.

Didn’t know how to explain that he had never wanted you to find out like this.

Didn’t know how to justify the years of secrecy, the years of letting you believe he was just your older brother, just the normal, easygoing Dick Grayson who had left Gotham to make a life for himself aside from being Bruce Wayne’s ward.

The years of letting you believe that he didn’t hide anything from you.

But the silence stretched too long.

And that was an answer itself.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head.

“You were Robin.” you said, and it wasn’t a question.

It was a fact.

A truth you had just put together, piece by piece, and now it was unraveling everything you thought you knew.

Dick swallowed.

“…Yeah.”

You blinked, staring at him like you didn’t recognize him.

Like you weren’t sure if you ever had.

“Our father is Batman.”

“Yes… he is.”

“And Jason?”

Dick’s breath caught.

He looked away.

But that was answer enough, too.

Your expression twisted, something like realization dawning on your face.

“That’s why—”

You cut yourself off, exhaling sharply.

“That’s why he died? He died because he was Robin too..?”

The words hit him like a gut punch.

Dick could barely breathe.

You were staring at him, waiting for an answer, but he didn’t have one that wouldn’t make this worse.

Jason.

Jason, who had died in his colors. Jason, who had been Robin because Dick had left. Jason, who had never gotten the chance to grow up, to get out, to become something more than just a ghost haunting all of them.

Jason, who you had mourned, who you had cried for, who you had spent weeks asking Bruce about only to get nothing in return.

And now you knew the truth.

You knew everything.

And Dick felt sick.

“I—” His throat was tight. Dry. He forced himself to swallow. “It wasn’t—”

But you had already taken a step back.

Away from him. And for some reason, that single step had hurt more than any punch he’d ever taken.

“How could you not tell me?” you asked, voice sharp with something between betrayal and disbelief. “How could you just—just let me think—” You exhaled, shaking your head, hands clenched into fists. “I grieved him, Dick. I stood at his grave, wondering how he could just die like that, and you—” Your voice broke. “You knew. You knew the whole time.”

Dick winced. He wanted to reach for you. To fix this. To explain.

But what was there to explain?

That he hadn’t wanted you to know? That he had convinced himself that if you never found out, you’d be safe?

That it hadn’t mattered, because Jason was dead either way?

That was worse, wasn’t it?

So he stayed quiet.

And that silence was answer enough.

You let out a shaky breath, your expression twisting. “So that’s why you were always busy, huh? Because you were Robin. Because you’re Nightwing now. You always had something to do. Something more important.”

Dick’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “I was—”

“You were lying,” you cut him off, and Tim could see the way that made Dick flinch. “You were always lying, weren’t you?”

“I didn’t want you to get involved in this life,” Dick forced out, his voice tight, defensive in a way he hated. “I couldn’t let you—”

“Oh, right, because lying to me was so much better,” you snapped. “Keeping me in the dark was so much better—”

“I was protecting you!” Dick snapped back, his voice louder now, sharper than he meant it to be.

It echoed through the Batcave.

Tim flinched slightly in his peripheral vision.

Alfred didn’t move.

You let out a bitter laugh, something short and humorless. “Protecting me?” you echoed. “Jason is dead, Dick. And you want to talk about protection?”

Dick clenched his jaw.

You weren’t wrong.

And maybe that was the worst part.

“Why?” You took a step forward. “Why, Dick? Why wouldn’t you tell me? I thought—I thought maybe, maybe, if you didn’t have time for me anymore, the least you would do is not lie to me. That you wouldn’t keep something this huge from me.”

Dick’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

That was what did it. That was what ruined him.

He had nothing to say, because you were right.

“I just wanted to protect you,” Dick finally said, and it was almost desperate, like he was trying to hold together something that had already cracked beyond repair.

“And you thought lying was the way to do that?” Your voice was shaking now. “You—you let me believe you just didn’t care anymore. I was so naive that you could just continue to lie to me for years, isn’t that why?”

“That’s not true,” Dick said quickly, stepping forward, but you stepped back just as fast.

You inhaled sharply. “I just want to hear you say it.”

Dick stilled.

You swallowed. “Tell me that you didn’t want to keep it from me. Tell me that it was Dad. Tell me this wasn’t your choice.”

Dick clenched his jaw.

And for a second—a brief, terrible second—you saw it.

The truth.

The answer before he even said it.

His shoulders squared, his expression unreadable, and then—

“I didn’t want you to know.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

You took a step back, blinking.

“What?”

Dick’s face was set, his voice firm. “Bruce told me not to tell you, but I didn’t want you to know either.”

You stared at him, uncomprehending.

“You—” You swallowed hard, your throat burning. “You didn’t want me to know?”

The betrayal was sharp, almost dizzying.

Dick flinched.

“I had to find out from him,” you suddenly snapped, pointing directly at Tim, who stiffened, eyes going wide.

“I had to find out from some random kid that has nothing to do with this—”

Tim opened his mouth. “Uh—”

“And not from you—my brother..!”

“This isn’t how you were supposed to find out,” Dick said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Well, then how exactly was I supposed to find out then? Were you even planning on telling me the truth?”

“(Name)—”

“Or were you going to keep this from me ‘til the day I die?”

Dick took a step closer. “Please, just listen—”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.”

Dick froze.

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel and heading for the exit.

“Wait—”

But you were already gone.

Tim hesitated, looking between the empty space where you had been and the absolute wreck that was Dick Grayson standing there, unmoving, like if he did, he might actually collapse under the weight of the argument that had just happened.

The silence stretched.

And then Alfred stepped forward.

“Master Bruce is still pursuing Two-Face,” he said evenly. “I will go check on Ms (Name).”

Dick exhaled slowly, rubbing his face.

Right.

There were more pressing matters.

And they weren’t going to wait.

Dick doesn’t even know what happened after that. You two just… avoided each other.

Avoidance wasn’t new between you two, but that time, it felt different. Alfred had told him you weren’t just avoiding him—you were avoiding everyone. That should’ve made him feel better, knowing he wasn’t the only one left out in the cold. Instead, it only made the weight in his chest heavier.

For a while, he didn’t know how to fix things. Didn’t even know where to start.

Maybe that was the problem.

Then and now.

It had always been you who stepped up first, the one who reached out, patched things up, and smoothed over the cracks in whatever had fractured between you. Even back then, after weeks of avoiding him, it was you who sought him out first—apologizing for your outburst, telling him you wanted to be Batgirl.

He hadn’t been happy about it.

Of course, he hadn’t.

The last thing he wanted was for you to get pulled into this life, the same way he had, the same Jason had. But at the same time… he didn’t want you to think he didn’t trust you. Because he did.

Didn’t he?

Maybe he should’ve helped more. Trained you. Guided you the way Bruce had done for him, the way he had done for Tim. But things had been complicated—Bludhaven was drowning in corruption, Blockbuster was tightening his grip on the city, and Dick had been stretched too thin to be what you needed.

Maybe that was why things had always felt strained between you.

Why things always felt off with you and him.

He hadn’t been there for you—not the way he had been for Tim, who had started out at the same time you did. And now, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering: Was it because Tim was Robin while you were Batgirl? Was it some misplaced instinct, some part of him that thought Barbara could help you better just because she had worn the mantle first?

Or was it just him? His failure?

Dick has many regrets.

And you—you are one of them.

Not because of who you are, but because of how he handled you.

Or rather, how he didn’t.

How he stood by and watched, too consumed by his own battles, by his own pain, to see you needing him. How he told himself it was okay, that you were strong enough to handle it alone.

And maybe you were. But that doesn’t excuse him from not being there when you needed him most.

And now, for the first time, you aren’t the one bridging the gap between you.

And he hates that he’s only realising this now.

He could have fixed this—maybe. If only he’d made the effort sooner. If only he’d found the courage to do something. To make up for what he failed to do. But now, everything feels too fractured, too far gone.

And that’s what hurts the most.

The fact that you don’t seem to need him the way you once did. That maybe, just maybe, you’ve moved on from him.

The thought suffocates him.

He wants to fix it. He wants to scream at the walls, to do something to make it right, but he’s frozen. Because what if it’s too late? What if you’re done with him? What if you’ve already written him off, already decided you don’t need him in your life anymore?

The overwhelming guilt twists tighter, leaving him suffocated, alone in his own mind.

You’ve stopped waiting for him.

And it kills him.

Dick knows he’s running out of time. And for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to fix it.

Not when you were avoiding him. Not when everyone he’s asked tells him to give you space, to leave you alone.

But how long more can he continue leaving you alone? When that was the exact reason you two were in this position?

His instincts tell him to give you time, let you breathe, to let the air clear before trying again. But that voice in the back of his mind screams that it’s too late. That if he waits too long, if he doesn’t move now, this—this—will be the end of whatever was left of your connection.

And the thought terrifies him.

He’s not sure if it’s pride or fear that holds him back now. Maybe a mix of both. Because even if he did try, what if you didn’t want him as your brother anymore? What if you didn’t need him in the way he still needed you?

What if the space you wanted from him was one he could never fill again?

What if it’s too late?

The coldness in the way you’ve pulled away, the way you’ve stopped needing him… he’s afraid that’s the reality.

And maybe that’s the hardest pill to swallow: that he’s powerless here. That even with all the skills, all the experience he’s had, this is one thing he can’t control.

This feels wrong. It feels so wrong, and he can’t shake the feeling that something is slipping through his fingers, something irreplaceable. You’re not just anyone. You’re his sister.

You are his little sister. And that’s why this hurts so much more.

The space between you isn’t just the distance of an argument, or a fight that can be fixed with a few words. It’s a gap between family—between two people who were supposed to always be there for each other, no matter what. And somehow, he let it slip away. He let it stretch farther and farther, until now, when it feels like he can’t reach you.

He hates this.

He hates feeling lost, unsure of how to fix something that should be simple. He’s always known what to do, always known how to make things right with his team, with anyone—everyone—but not with you.

Not now.

The years of you looking up to him, trusting him, believing in him… and now, you’re turning away. And it’s because of him. Because he wasn’t there when you needed him, and because now, when everything has broken, he’s just letting you walk away.

His thoughts spiral, each one heavier than the last. He should’ve done better. He should’ve noticed the small things—the moments where you tried, where you reached out, when you needed him to show up. He should’ve noticed everything.

But he didn’t.

It feels like too much to fix now. How can he bridge this gap? How can he even begin to make things right when you’re already gone from him, retreating, pulling away from the only person who was supposed to be there for you through everything?

How can he let you go?

He can’t. He just can’t.

Because you’re his sister. And no matter what’s happened, no matter how much space you need, he can’t just let this be. He can’t let you slip away from him, not when he still loves you so damn much, not when he’s still your brother.

Dick hates that even now, it feels like he’s still not prioritizing you. Not when Gotham is on the verge of chaos, when everything is unraveling faster than he can keep up with.

Bruce needs him—Gotham needs him. And he hates himself for thinking this, but it almost feels easier to focus on the city, on the madness, on the constant fight to keep everything from falling apart, than to face what’s happening with you. He hates that he can’t just put his focus on you without it feeling like he’s failing the entire city.

Not when the Court of Owls is seemingly starting to creep back into the shadows, when they’re pulling strings from behind the scenes. Not when Riddler is out again after his bombing less than two weeks ago. The city feels like it’s shifting into new, terrifying territories, with danger lurking in every corner.

It’s easy to justify the exhaustion, the endless grind, when the city’s on the line. But it doesn’t make the guilt disappear.

The guilt that he still hasn’t gone after you. That he still hasn’t made things right yet. Not when Bruce needs him for this, not when Gotham seems to be shifting into unknown territories.

He tried to shove it down—tried to bury the guilt—and just focus. Focus on the bigger picture.

But it’s hard.

It’s so hard.

Every time he tries to focus on something else, his mind inevitably goes back to you. He hates it.

Bruce’s brooding presence is a constant reminder that there’s always something more pressing—always a new threat looming. And yet, Dick can’t seem to escape the nagging pull of you.

“Bruce,” Dick snaps suddenly, his frustration slipping through. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t mean to bring you up again, but he needs something to clear his head. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t mean to bring her up. Let’s get back on track.”

He barely registers the way Bruce’s gaze sharpens, the way his lips tighten in a fleeting moment of something—concern? Worry?

No, it looked more like… guilt.

But Bruce doesn’t voice it. Instead, there’s a brief pause, and then, a subtle shift in his eyes. His entire demeanor falters for the briefest second, and Dick feels it, like a change in the air, as though Bruce is about to say something.

But Bruce just sighs, a deep, tired sound, and mutters, “Alright.”

The conversation moves on, like it always does. The case file is opened again, the details of the recent murder presented to them both, as if nothing’s changed, as if everything’s fine.

But things definitely weren’t fine.

And it wouldn’t be for a long time.

Damian wasn’t one to get caught up in things that didn’t concern him. That’s what he told himself. But when it came to you, he doesn’t know why things are different now.

It wasn’t that he cared. Not really.

He was Damian Wayne, after all.

He was above things like worry, like caring too much.

But when he started noticing how you’d been waking up earlier and earlier to bake things—treats, he noted with growing curiosity—and then leaving for school with them in tow, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You weren’t just baking for no reason. You weren’t baking for yourself, like he had first assumed. No, you’d been bringing them to school, and that… that didn’t make sense. You weren’t that kind of person. Unless you were making it for your schoolmates.

No, that was certainly beneath you. You had to know that.

But then you started coming back late. Very late. Far later than what could be excused by a few extra-curriculars or staying after school.

That was when Damian decided to… observe.

He wouldn’t call it stalking, no. Stalking was a bit too… intrusive, in his opinion. He preferred to call it a ‘careful examination of your recent activities.’ That was much more appropriate. And so, with his usual precision, he followed you, quietly keeping his distance, ensuring you never knew he was there.

It wasn’t as if he cared. He didn’t care at all. Obviously.

But he was curious, and he wasn’t about to admit to himself that he was starting to care a little more than he should.

And that’s when he saw it.

You and two other people—a blond guy and a brunette girl—heading towards an…. orphanage?

Damian’s sworn he’s seen the blond guy somewhere, but he can’t place a finger on it.

The place wasn’t far from the manor, but it wasn’t somewhere he expected you to be.

He kept his distance, blending into the shadows as he watched you hand out the treats you’d baked to the children there. So that’s who you were making them for, he thought, his mind almost too sharp for his own comfort.

From where he stood, he observed the way you moved among the children there, your every action contrasting with the other two people you came with. Your friends, as he had identified them, were lively, and they were running around with some of the kids, laughing, playing. But not you.

No, you sat back. You were content just to watch. You were curled up on the grass with some of the other children around you, reading them books.

Books?

Damian frowned. Was that really you?

The same you who never seemed to have time for things like that? The one who always preferred to be out in the field, out on patrol with the rest of the family?

He couldn’t recall a time where you’d ever been the type to sit and do something so mundane. Yet here you were, doing it effortlessly, surrounded by the kids.

And then, of course, there was him.

A little brunette boy. Always near you. Always by your side. Clinging to you like you were his only source of comfort.

Damian’s fingers tightened into fists. His jaw clenched, but his eyes stayed on the boy. For some inexplicable reason, he hated how close he seemed to be to you. How you didn’t seem to mind. No, you were indulging him—letting him climb all over you, laughing at whatever he said.

Damian hated it.

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand why this bothered him so much. Why the sight of some random, orphaned kid getting your attention like that twisted something inside him.

He now watched as you and the same boy were sitting off to the side, away from the others, in a quiet corner of the yard. The kid was holding up a stuffed animal, trying to make it talk in a high-pitched voice, and you—you—were playing along, mimicking the voice and laughing as if it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. Damian’s gaze never wavered. He could see it—the way you were smiling at him. At him, not at anyone else.

Damian didn’t get it. What was so special about this kid? Why did he have to be so attached to you?

And why did you seem so attached to him?

Why were you so at ease with a kid you barely knew for more than a week at most?

Damian hates the fact that he’s feeling like this, that he’s thinking such stupid thoughts.

He watches as the kid tug at your sleeve, saying something in your ear. How much more were you going to indulge this kid?

“Hey, (Name),” Elliot asked in his little voice, “why’s that kid just standing over there, staring at us?”

You blinked, and without thinking, your gaze followed his.

And there, standing by the fence, was Damian. His figure was stiff, unmoving, his gaze intense and unwavering as it locked onto you. His eyes were cold.

Damian’s heart skipped a beat when he saw you look up, your expression morphing from confusion to realization as your gaze fixed on him.

Damn it, he thought.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

You knew.

You knew he had been watching.

You didn’t say anything, but he could tell. And the worst part? He didn’t even care that you caught him. He didn’t care that you’d seen him there. What bothered him was the way you’d stopped laughing, the way you’d looked away from him. That distant, almost guilty feeling he got from you.

It was clear. You were aware now.

And somehow, that made it worse.

You groaned slightly, already knowing what was coming. It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected him to follow you; it was just… typical. Rolling your eyes, you’d excused yourself from Elliot, and made your way toward the edge of the orphanage, where Damian stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the railings. The only thing separating the two of you was the metal bars, but that didn’t seem to stop him from making his presence known.

You stopped a few feet away from him, taking in the sight of his usual stubborn posture. “What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, keeping your tone casual, though there was a sharpness beneath it.

Damian’s response was as expected. “Just passing by,” he said, but you could tell it was a lie by the way his eyes darted, refusing to meet yours directly.

You deadpanned, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “Really? You’re just ‘passing by’ on this side of town? When’s the last time you took a stroll over here, hmm?” you remarked, giving him a knowing look. The whole situation screamed of him being here for some other reason.

Damian scoffed, clearly not fond of being caught. He straightened up, trying to act casual, but you weren’t buying it for a second. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “You’re so stubborn, it’s exhausting,” you muttered, turning to walk towards the entrance. You glanced over your shoulder, your voice softer but more commanding now. “Come inside. Stop standing out here like a loner. It’s an orphanage, not some shady alley.”

Damian shot you a look of annoyance, but instead of refusing, he followed you, clearly annoyed by your comment. “I’m not a loner,” he muttered under his breath, but you could hear the bitterness in his tone.

You smirked, knowing you had won this one. He didn’t even try to argue as you dragged him inside, making sure to ignore his huffing and groaning. Once inside, you immediately caught Caitlyn and Adrien’s surprised expressions when they saw Damian lagging behind you.

Adrien was the first to speak, his jaw nearly dropping. “Is that Damian freaking Wayne I see?” he asked, a cheesy smile on his face.

Damian stood with his usual unimpressed look, glaring at Adrien like he had just been asked the dumbest question in the world. “Is he an idiot or just plain stupid..” he muttered, not in the mood for any more attention.

Caitlyn turned to you, a hint of confusion in her voice. “You invited your brother?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“More like he invited himself,” you replied, giving him a side-eye.

Damian just scoffed, his expression unreadable. “I’m just making sure she’s not getting herself involved in some shady business,” he muttered, clearly irritated, and yet somehow still reluctant to admit he had followed you because he wanted to.

You laughed quietly, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

Before Damian could open his mouth to retort, one of the staff came in, calling the children for their meal time. You glanced at Damian, who looked like he was trying to figure out how to stand still without getting involved, but then you pulled him over to the table where everyone else was sitting.

Damian was unceremoniously slotted between you and Adrien, who immediately started up a conversation, not sensing the tense atmosphere Damian was giving off.

Adrien, the chatterbox that he was, began asking Damian a series of ridiculous questions, which only made Damian’s discomfort more apparent. “So, Damian, heard you were homeschooled before? How’s it like going from staying in the comforts of your home to having to mingle with us commoners?” Adrien asked, his voice full of that teasing nature you were used.

Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he gave nothing away. “Tt. None of your business,” he muttered, though his tone was less sharp than usual.

You couldn’t help but watch the interaction unfold, noticing how Adrien kept talking, seemingly without stopping for air, while Damian remained his usual, stoic self, barely responding but still staying present.

It was…endearing in a strange way. You had always known that Damian wasn’t someone who opened up easily, but watching him with Adrien was oddly satisfying. Adrien was persistent, and though Damian was clearly trying to distance himself from the conversation, there was a shift.

In the midst of the lighthearted banter, you caught yourself smiling a little. You knew it would take time, but somehow, Damian was warming up to Adrien’s constant energy. You knew that Adrien probably reminded him a bit of Jon—always asking questions, always talking. And now, somehow, the two of them were starting to get along.

You glanced over at Damian, his brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and frustration, and you chuckled to yourself.

Yeah, he’ll get used to him, you thought, enjoying the rare moment where your brother was forced to interact with one of your dear friends. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

As the kids were digging into their meals, the conversation around the table shifted, like it always did at some point—towards superheroes. One of the younger boys, Marcus, piped up with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, “Who’s your favorite hero?”

The question quickly spread like wildfire, and before you knew it, the whole table was eagerly waiting for an answer from you, Caitlyn, and Adrien. Caitlyn and Adrien exchanged glances, clearly excited. You, however, already knew where this was going. The answer was obvious.

“Don’t say Batman,” you interjected quickly before either could open their mouths. “That’s such a cop-out answer. Everyone knows Batman’s the go-to.”

Caitlyn looked at you with a mischievous grin. “Well, I wasn’t even going to say Batman anyways,” she huffed out. “Mine’s definitely Nightwing.” She leaned back, resting her arm on the back of her chair, eyes gleaming with a grin. “I mean, come on. He’s hot as hell. And have you seen that ass? Dude’s got the whole bakery goddamn!!”

You froze, your eyes wide for a split second, doing everything in your power to avoid crashing out at that. Did she really just—?

Oh god.

Damian’s gruff voice came from beside you. “Tch.”

You nudged him sharply, hoping he’d keep quiet. “Shut up,” you muttered under your breath, trying to maintain some composure, but you could feel Damian’s growing annoyance from the side of your vision. He didn’t even bother looking at you when he responded.

“What.”

“Don’t react.” You said, your voice quiet but firm.

“Richard wouldn’t like what your friend is saying.”

“Hah, if anything, he’d be honoured.”

“No he wouldn’t.”

Your friends glanced at each other, confused by your hushed but tensed conversation with your brother.

And you didn’t blame them.

After all, Caitlyn had no clue that Nightwing was your older brother, Dick Grayson, and that’s exactly why you were doing your best not to let it show. You weren’t about to explain that you didn’t want to hear her gush about his freaking butt during a nice and peaceful meal.

Adrien, always the oblivious to these things, shifted his focus to the conversation. “Well, I didn’t really mess with him before, but Robin is cool as hell. I mean, come on, he practically saved my life. Got to give the lil guy props for that.”

Damian’s posture straightened a little at that, clearly pleased by the compliment. However, he scowled the moment Adrien added, “the lil guy.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed, and he muttered under his breath, “Robin’s not little.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Oh really? Well, he’s about…” He trailed off, glancing from Damian to you before continuing, “…about your height, actually.”

You almost choked on your drink, your eyes going wide.

Oh no.

Was he literally about to connect the dots—

“What a coincidence. Maybe you should cosplay as him sometime.”

Oh.

At least Adrien’s blondness is still going strong.

Damian’s answer came with no hesitation, voice completely unbothered. “Sure.”

You sighed with relief, though internally, you were in full panic mode.

Thank god that’s over.

One of the little girls, Emma, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, raised her hand excitedly. “I like Batgirl a lot!” she said with a beaming smile.

Or not.

Caitlyn turned to her, a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, really? Which one?”

Emma blinked, confused. “There’s more than one?”

Caitlyn laughed, shaking her head. “Of course! There’s the original Batgirl, then there’s… the replacement, then the ninja one that came out of nowhere, and now the really nice and friendly one.”

You frowned slightly when Caitlyn called you—or well— the former second batgirl, the replacement. But she wasn’t wrong. You had been a replacement. But you had tried making it your own, hadn’t you? That should at least be recognised, right?

You watched as Caitlyn went off into a long rant, detailing the various Batgirls from across the years. Emma and all the other girls looked wide-eyed, clearly taking it all in, though you were sure half of what she was saying was going out the other ear.

You couldn’t help but shake your head, muttering under your breath, “There’s only one right answer.”

Caitlyn, not missing a beat, grinned. “Yes, and that’s obviously the OG!!! I miss her. I wonder what happened to her. She just stopped showing up for years now.”

Oh.

You grumbled, unable to refute the fact that she was right. The OG Batgirl was the best, no question. Barbara created Batgirl on her own. She owned it. But…come on, you had to back yourself up here.

Adrien piped up, “Nah, the blonde one’s the best. She’s cool and real fun.”

You deadpanned at him. “You’re kidding, right? That’s your pick?”

“What? Am I wrong?” Adrien asked, genuinely confused.

You huffed, leaning back in your chair. “Very.”

“You’re both wrong.”

At that moment, Damian’s voice broke through, and everyone turned to look at him.

You glanced at him, not sure if you had heard him correctly. “What did you say?”

Adrien looked at Damian, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Who is it, lil guy?”

Damian’s gaze shifted to the table, his voice as steady as ever. “The best Batgirl is obviously the third. She’s the most proficient and the best fighter.”

You stared at Damian, deadpan.

Of course he picked her.

Of course, he’d back the best fighter—always.

For one fleeting second, you actually thought he was talking about you.

But of course he wasn’t.

You didn’t know why you even entertained the possibility of him choosing you. For half a second, you thought—just thought—that maybe, just maybe, he’d acknowledge you. But no. Obviously not.

You should’ve known better.

“What?” Damian asked, noticing your stare.

“Nothing,” you muttered, though the way you immediately crossed your arms said otherwise.

But it wasn’t nothing. It was mild irritation mixed with some very well-earned pettiness. It wasn’t like you expected him to say you were the best Batgirl, but still! You’d think your own brother would at least pretend you were a contender! For a moment, you really thought Damian would pick you.

But of course he didn’t. You weren’t even in the running.

Fine. Fine.

If Damian was going to be like that, you weren’t going to let him off easy.

“You know who’s not the best?” You paused for effect. “The current Robin.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Adrien and Caitlyn both turned to you, looking confused. Meanwhile, Damian—oh, Damian froze. His head snapped toward you, expression shifting in real time, his usual blank stare morphing into something far more hostile.

“What did you just say?” His voice was calm. Too calm.

You leaned back in your chair, feigning nonchalance. “I said the current Robin is overrated. He’s fine, I guess. But people act like he’s some unstoppable force of nature, and honestly? I don’t see it.”

Damian’s eye twitched.

Adrien let out a short laugh, glancing between you two. “Wait, why does it sound like you personally hate him?”

“I don’t,” you said. “I just think he’s too aggressive. Like, okay, congrats, you were probably trained since birth, but does that really mean you have to act like everyone else is beneath you? Maybe try teamwork sometime.”

Damian scoffed. “Tt. You mean like how the second Batgirl worked with her team? Oh, wait. She didn’t even have one.”

You stiffened slightly. “Excuse me?”

“She was reckless,” Damian continued, now fully engaging in the argument. “Unrefined. She relied on brute force and emotion instead of strategy, which is exactly why she never measured up to her predecessor.”

Your eye twitched.

Oh. It’s on.

“Well, the current Robin acts like he’s the smartest person in the room,” you shot back. “Always belittling everyone he works with, always convinced he knows best—”

“Because he does,” Damian cut in smoothly, sharp.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, please. Batgirl was just as skilled—”

“Skilled?” Damian repeated, looking almost offended. “She was a brute. She had no tactical foresight, no patience, no discipline—”

“She gets the job done,” you interrupted.

“And leaves chaos in her wake,” Damian countered.

“Oh, because Robin doesn’t leave a mess?”

“At least his messes serve a purpose.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And at least she wasn’t a condescending little—”

“Okay, wait, wait, wait, pause,” Caitlyn suddenly cut in, raising her hands. She and Adrien were staring at you two, completely baffled. “What is happening right now?”

Adrien tilted his head, looking between you and Damian. “Yeah, why do you two sound like you’ve got some kind of personal vendetta against Robin and Batgirl?”

You and Damian both froze slightly, suddenly realizing just how heated this was getting.

You coughed, quickly forcing a neutral expression. “No, definitely not.”

Damian straightened his posture, clearing his throat. “Tt. Of course not.”

Adrien and Caitlyn exchanged a look.

“…Right.” Caitlyn tilted her head. “You sure you guys don’t secretly have some grudge against them?”

Adrien hummed in thought. “Or maybe they just don’t like heroes who remind them of themselves?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

You and Damian both turned to glare at Adrien, who just retreats behind Caitlyn.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Whatever. The current Robin’s still annoying.”

“And the second Batgirl is too stubborn.”

Caitlyn frowned, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know…I always thought the second Batgirl and Robin actually worked well together. Like, whenever they were seen in the same place, their fighting styles just fit. Like they just got each other’s back, you know? At least, from what I’ve seen.”

Your jaw tensed. You pointedly avoided looking at Damian, and you knew he was doing the same.

Caitlyn’s words echoed in your head, looping over and over again like an intrusive thought you couldn’t shake.

“I always thought that Batgirl and Robin worked well together. Like, whenever they were seen in the same place, their fighting styles just fit. Like they just got each other’s, you know?”

No. No, you didn’t know.

Because that wasn’t true.

It couldn’t be true.

Because if it was true, then—

Then what did that mean?

If you and Damian worked well together—if your fighting styles “fit”—if you “just got each other”—then why hadn’t it been enough?

Why hadn’t it felt enough?

Why hadn’t you been enough?

Why had it felt like you were always fighting for validation?

Why did it still feel like Damian only ever saw you as a burden on the field?

If you had actually worked well with him, then why hadn’t he said anything back then? Why hadn’t he—

You exhaled sharply, shoving the thoughts away.

No.

Caitlyn was wrong. She had no idea what she was talking about.

“You’re giving them too much credit,” you said, shaking your head. “They didn’t work well together.”

Caitlyn blinked. “What? No, they totally did.”

You scoffed. “They barely tolerated each other.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, tilting her head. “They just… understood each other. You could see it in the way they fought. Like, Robin always knew where that Batgirl was gonna move next, and vice versa. It’s like they were in sync without even needing to say anything.”

Your fingers curled slightly.

No. That wasn’t—

That wasn’t—

That was just necessity.

That was pattern recognition.

That was forced proximity because you had no choice but to move together or risk getting each other killed.

That didn’t mean you worked well together.

It didn’t mean Damian saw you as an equal.

It didn’t mean—

“I suppose the second Batgirl is not… entirely incompetent.”

It was barely more than a murmur, but it was enough.

Enough to make the conversation still. Enough to make all of you turn.

Damian’s eyes flickered downward, arms crossed, his expression a mask of impassivity.

But that sentence. That one hesitation.

It meant something.

Your brain stuttered.

Of all things—that was what he said?

Damian Wayne—the boy who had no patience for weakness, who barely tolerated most people, who was damn near incapable of giving credit where credit was due—just admitted that?

And then—

Then he kept going.

“She’s… effective,” he admitted, as if the words physically hurt. “Her combat style is instinct-driven, but adaptable. It lacks structure, but it’s—tt—unpredictable. It forces opponents into a rhythm they’re unfamiliar with. It’s inefficient, but it works. Works for herself. And works for Robin too.”

You blinked.

That wasn’t just some throwaway comment. That wasn’t just begrudging approval.

That was acknowledgment.

You had spent years training. Learning to move, to fight, to make up for every weakness you had. You wanted someone to see that. Your father, Dick, Barbara—hell, even Jason. But you’d never expected him to see it. To notice.

Much less appreciate it.

And yet, here he was, admitting that you were—what? Unpredictable? Capable?

Your mouth opened slightly, but the words never came. You just stared, feeling something unfamiliar twist in your stomach.

You weren’t used to this.

Weren’t used to this at all.

Definitely not from Damian. After everything—

Caitlyn sighed, leaning back. “Yeah, I suppose so. A lot of people in the East End like her, from what I’ve heard.”

The weight of Damian’s words still lingered, but Caitlyn’s casual addition made something inside you shift again.

“But I haven’t exactly seen her in the past few weeks. Wonder what happened?”

And just like that—

That fleeting warmth vanished.

Your body tensed, fingers curling into your palm so tightly that your nails dug into your skin.

“She quit,” you said before you could stop yourself.

It was too sharp. Too final.

You knew it the second it left your mouth.

And it showed.

Adrien and Caitlyn turned to you, their confusion immediate.

They weren’t just confused by the statement itself.

They were confused by how you said it.

By how certain you sounded.

Realizing your mistake, you scrambled to correct yourself, forcing your voice into something lighter. “I mean, I heard she quit. I guess.”

There was a beat of silence.

Caitlyn hummed thoughtfully. “Oh. What a shame.”

And then—

“It’s a load of bullshit.”

Damian’s voice was edged with something sharp.

You turned to him, frowning. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

Damian exhaled sharply, arms still crossed. “That Batgirl—assuming she really did quit—is an idiot.”

Your jaw clenched.

“She wouldn’t have quit if she didn’t think she was making an impact.”

“But she did,” Damian said, tone clipped, like it was obvious.

Your breath caught.

“She made an impact. Gotham is worse with one less hero. But she’s too dumb and socially inept to realize that.”

The words slammed into you like a brick wall.

It wasn’t mockery. It wasn’t insulting for the sake of it.

It was genuine frustration.

Damian was angry—not because he didn’t like her—but because she left.

You left.

Because you gave up.

As if you didn’t see what you were to Gotham.

But did you even mean something to Gotham?

Your lips parted slightly, but the words wouldn’t come.

Because what were you supposed to say?

What were you supposed to do with the fact that Damian cared?

That he was fighting for her—for you—when you had convinced yourself no one would?

Damian never defended things like this. He never cared enough to.

But here he was, riding this hard.

For Batgirl.

For you.

And you—

You didn’t know what to do with that either.

The air was too thick. Too heavy. The tension sat like a weight between you both.

You turned away, pressing your lips into a thin line. Damian did the same.

And you could feel your friends shift uncomfotably in their seats after that awkward conversation that they got lost in.

“I like whoever (Name) likes.”

Elliot, small but absolute in his convictions, piped up with the kind of unwavering certainty that only kids had.

You barely had time to react before something in your chest tightened, an ache so unfamiliar that you almost mistook it for something else.

Fondness.

You ruffled Elliot’s hair gently, watching as he beamed under your touch, his loyalty so simple, so unquestioning.

“At least someone knows who truly is the best,” you said, your voice soft but amused.

Adrien, clearly irked by the favoritism, complained, “Hey, no fair! That lil guy just goes along with whatever you say. That’s not counted.”

The words were playful, but they settled something in you—if only for a moment.

A brief, fleeting peace.

You risked a glance at Damian, but found his expression unreadable.

And that made you tense even more.

Because how did one conversation just destroy whatever rapport you’d built with him over the last few weeks?

You opened your mouth to say something but—

“Oh! Looks like you’ve brought along another person.”

And just like that—

Everything in you froze.

Your breath stilled.

Your fingers twitched.

Something cold wrapped around your ribs, tightening.

Mrs. Cole.

She moved toward your group, all warm smiles and polished perfection. But you knew.

You knew better.

The warmth didn’t reach her eyes. The perfection was too smooth, too calculated.

And yet, your friends didn’t see it.

They didn’t feel it.

They didn’t feel the unease sinking into your bones, clawing its way under your skin.

You straightened instinctively, every nerve in your body suddenly alert.

You felt your jaw lock.

And you just stared at the old woman standing in front of you and your friends.

When you didn’t move to introduce Damian, Caitlyn, ever polite, started to do it for you.

“Oh, this is—”

“Damian Wayne,” Mrs. Cole interrupted smoothly, smiling. “Son of Bruce Wayne. Of course, I know him.”

Then, with a turn of her head, her gaze landed on you.

And despite the kindness in her expression—

Something inside you shrank.

“I apologise,” she said gently. “I should have realised earlier that you were, in fact, (Name) Wayne. I hope you weren’t too offended.”

Every syllable was measured. Smooth.

There was nothing wrong with what she said.

But your mind churned.

Something in you twitched.

Something itched beneath your skin, something you couldn’t place.

A meaningless pleasantry? Or a subtle dig? A test? Did she expect you to be offended? Was she gauging your reaction?

Your eyes flickered to her face, scanning for any indication of intent. The tiniest shift in expression. A microsecond of amusement. A twitch of satisfaction.

A crack, a slip—anything.

But there was nothing.

Just polite words and a soft tone.

Just surface-level kindness.

Not a misstep. Not a single crack in her perfect facade.

It made your stomach turn.

Your thoughts tangled, looping over themselves, spiraling deeper into your own paranoia—

And then you realized you had been silent for too long.

Too long for it to be normal. Too long for it to be anything but weird.

You scrambled for a response, grasping for something, anything—

“It’s fine.”

It came out rough. Stiff. Completely unnatural.

Like a person forgetting how to be a person.

Mrs. Cole only smiled. If she noticed your awkwardness, she was far too polite to acknowledge it.

Adrien and Caitlyn, however, were not.

You saw it immediately—the way Caitlyn pressed her lips together to keep from groaning, the way Adrien squeezed his eyes shut like he had just physically felt secondhand embarrassment.

Yeah. Yeah.

That was bad.

You wanted to fling yourself out the nearest window.

Mrs. Cole, as if unfazed, turned back to Damian.

“I hope everything here has been to your liking.”

Damian regarded her for a moment before giving a clipped, formal response. “The conditions appear satisfactory.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she replied easily. “We do our best to provide a safe environment for all the children under our care.”

You didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

Just listened.

You tried to read him.

Tried to see if he felt it too.

If he sensed that something was off with Mrs Cole.

But—

Nothing.

Damian’s expression was unreadable, sure. But that wasn’t new.

What was new was that he didn’t seem to think anything of her at all.

“Well,” Mrs. Cole finally said, brushing nonexistent dust from her sleeve. “I have other matters to attend to. It was lovely meeting you, Damian.”

She smiled, nodding at Caitlyn and Adrien before turning back to you.

“And you, of course, (Name).”

Then—

She was gone.

Moving seamlessly through the orphanage, weaving between staff and children like she belonged there.

You exhaled shakily.

You had overanalyzed every movement, every syllable. Had searched for something.

And yet—nothing.

No proof. No reason for this unease gnawing at your ribs.

And yet, it didn’t go away.

It never went away, no matter what you did.

No matter what you tried convincing yourself with.

And as you sat there, stiff and silent—

You failed to notice the way Damian was watching you.

Expression unreadable.

Eyes sharp.

Like he had seen something.

Something off.

Something he couldn’t quite place.

long awaited chapter 7 lol… did you guys miss me 🥰🤗 also ramadan mubarak to all my muslim homies and girlies 🫶🫶part 2 here in a few hours after posting this, will answer my asks after posting part 2 <3

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[kingkaisen]

“You Want to Adopt Me?”

♡ — SUMMARY: You & GOJO decide to adopt Yuji & Megumi.

♡ — A/N: This is a continuation of my dad!gojo au, but reading the other parts isn’t necessary.

♡ — WC: 2k

Four hours had passed since the glorious moment in which Yuji discovered that his beloved teacher had a wife and daughter.

And, after having dinner with all of you that evening, he never wanted to leave.

Walking home that night — all alone, with no family around who would care whether or not he was safe — was one of the most difficult things he had to do. It made curse fighting seem like child’s play.

It was so utterly painful; he fought to hold back a tear as he walked down the sidewalk, staring at his shoes, which he could only see thanks to the dim streetlights.

Truth be told, he hated himself for getting so emotional over this.

Most, if not all of his friends were just as lonely as he was. Most of them didn’t sit at a dinner table and gobble down a nice warm meal with a loving family.

Most of them didn’t have a mother to hug them, or a father to cheer them up. And, if their parents were still around, they were probably distant and unloving.

Even so, it didn’t change the fact that having a family was, perhaps, the one thing Yuji truly wanted.

He just wanted to be loved.

The ache in his heart was so incredibly strong. The pain shot throughout his chest, through his veins, and down to his fingertips.

“Why am I so emotional? I can’t cry over this,” Yuji thought. “This isn’t something worth crying over.”

An unwavering lump in his throat formed from his attempts at holding back a cry.

That was when his footsteps came to a halt.

What was the point in rushing back to his lonely, isolating room at the school?

No one was waiting for him. He could go anywhere he wanted, and no one would truly miss him.

People would look for him, but mainly because of their obligation as sorcerers to track down Sukuna’s vessel. Nothing more.

Some people would actually prefer it if Yuji did disappear. And a few people were honest enough to tell him that to his face.

As he stood there, in the dark, alone on the sidewalk on such a cold night, he couldn’t help but wonder if his friends would secretly be happy if he did somehow vanish into thin air.

Maybe loneliness was destined for him. Maybe everyone would feel safer if he didn’t return to the school. Maybe-

“Hey, Yuji!”

Gojo’s voice startled the young boy, who instantly turned around to see his teacher approaching him, his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t make it too far — good.”

“Is everything okay?” Yuji asked.

Gojo could hear the sadness in his voice, but he decided not to comment on it. After all, he knew exactly why his student was upset. He didn’t have to be a genius to figure it out.

“Yeah, listen,” Gojo paused, “it’s pretty cold and dark out here. Why don’t you come back to my house and stay the night? We can both head back to the school in the morning.”

For a moment, Yuji felt a spark of happiness, but that spark quickly fizzled out.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Yuji frowned. “I’m a vessel. I’m dangerous. Having me sleep in the same house as your wife and kid would be-”

“Would be fine,” Gojo interrupted. “Nothing bad is going to happen, Yuji. Me and Y/N both know that you’re a vessel, and we want you to come anyway.”

Yuji didn’t respond. Nor did he move an inch. Gojo spoke once again.

“She wants to make you pancakes in the morning,” he said in a tempting tone. “Homemade too. The kind that has the crispy edges, but are very soft and fluffy at the same time? We have syrup and butter — orange juice as well. Or do you prefer apple juice? We have both, either way. Not to mention, the bed in our guest bedroom is bigger and way more comfortable than the one at the school-“

“Okay!” Yuji suddenly smiled happily, and it was a real, genuine grin.

He quickly rushed past Gojo, making his way back to your warm, cozy home eagerly.

—

Seven months later, Yuji visited your home as often as he could. Sometimes, Megumi would tag along with him, as the dark-haired boy secretly craved a connection with a loving family too, even if he’d never admit it.

On this particular day, Megumi was lying on the couch, covered in blankets as he watched a movie about two princesses going on some sort of adventure.

Megumi was injured during his last mission, and thanks to the chilly weather, he was also catching a bit of a cold as well. You insisted upon taking care of him, but your daughter insisted that making him watch Barbie movies all afternoon would make him feel better.

As the two of them watched the movie together, you were in the kitchen, standing over your wooden cutting board as you chopped up carrots, onions, and celery.

Yuji hovered over the sink, washing the dishes.

“I want you to have some soup as well, Yuji. You could catch a cold any day now.”

“Yes ma’am,” Yuji said, scrubbing a plate as he smiled softly. “I really appreciate it.”

Suddenly, the front door opened, and Gojo walked in, shouting casually, “I’m home, everyone!”

Quick, soft footsteps could be heard pattering against the floor as your daughter ran up to Gojo, holding her arms out.

“Daddy! You’re home!” She giggled as he lifted her.

“I’ve missed my little muffin so much,” tickling her, he said, “did you have a good day? I think my little girl has grown a couple of inches since I last saw her this morning! Did she grow? Hm?”

The sound of your daughter’s laughter made Gojo smile brightly.

As he held her, he walked into the living room and ruffled Megumi’s hair.

“Cut it out,” the teenager frowned.

“Good to see you too,” Gojo paused, pressing the back of his hand against Megumi’s forehead. “You’ve cooled down a little since this morning, that’s good. I’ll give you some more medicine later on, okay?”

“Okay,” Megumi mumbled.

Gojo slowly put his daughter down. “I’m gonna go say hi to Mom, okay? Keep an eye on Megumi for me.”

“Okay!” Your daughter happily replied. “I can keep an eye on Meg-mi!”

When Gojo made his way into the kitchen, ruffling Yuji’s hair as the boy walked passed him on his way to join Megumi and your daughter in the living room, you instantly stopped chopping your vegetables.

You wrapped your arms around your husband’s neck.

“Hi baby,” he greeted, kissing your lips softly. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” with a smile, you looked into his eyes. “Did you have a good day? Kill any curses?”

“I had a great day. Didn’t kill any curses, though. I was just stuck in a bunch of meetings with the higher-ups,” Gojo said softly, his face only inches from yours, his hands on your hips. “What’s on your mind? You have that look in your eyes.”

“Well,” you paused. “I know they’re teenagers, and they’re very strong and independent, but . . . I can’t help but feel protective over those boys. I love them both like they’re my own. Last week, Yuji accidentally called me mom. He was just so excited when he saw the new clothes I got him for winter, and it slipped out. And it just made me think that, well . . . Maybe he should be able to call me mom. Both he and Megumi. I wanna adopt them.”

Gojo was silent for a moment, which made you frown a bit in worry. Suddenly, he kissed your pouty lips. It was a soft, passionate kiss — one that told you just how much he loved you.

“I think that’s a great idea,” he mumbled against your lips once he pulled away.

“I just think that those boys deserve a place to call home, and that school certainly isn’t it, especially when the people who run it don’t care about their lives at all. It’s just horrible.” Your frown deepened. “And we have more than enough room here, too. We can keep them safe and happy.”

“Let’s go tell them.”

—

Yuji, Megumi, and your daughter were all sitting in the living room, enjoying each other’s company.

The sight of it only confirmed that you and Gojo were making the right decision.

“Hey, we need to talk to you three,” Gojo said.

Megumi grabbed the remote, switching off the television as he struggled to sit upright.

“What’s going on?” Yuji asked, sitting on the floor as your daughter sat down beside him.

“Well, we noticed that you and Megumi have been spending a lot of time here recently.”

Gojo’s words sent an all too familiar heartache through Yuji’s chest. He frowned sadly.

“They’re about to tell me to go away,” Yuji thought. “I knew this wouldn’t last.”

“Me and Gojo decided that it would be best for-”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I get it. I can leave.” Yuji suddenly cut you off, trying his best to hide his pain behind a smile. Slowly, he started to get up, and your daughter grabbed ahold of his pants leg, looking up at him sadly. “I’m sorry if I was a bother. Thanks for everything.”

“Woah, Yuji, where are you going?” You called out, watching the teenager head for the front door.

“Yuji, stop,” Gojo stood up from his seat.

Yuji, who was almost out of the living room, instantly stopped walking. But he didn’t turn back around.

Quiet sniffles could be heard. No matter how hard he fought, or how much he had been through, he wasn’t strong enough to hold back his tears.

The pain of feeling unwanted was simply too great.

He tried to wipe his tears away quickly and silence his little sobs, as he didn’t want to make you and Gojo feel guilty for not wanting a dangerous vessel like him around.

Slowly, Gojo approached his crying student. “Yuji, you have it all wrong. We don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Yuji didn’t respond.

Gojo placed a comforting hand on the crying boy’s head.

“Me and Y/N are going to adopt you,” Gojo smiled. “Looks like you’re my son now.”

“We wanna adopt you too, Megumi,” you said, smiling at the stunned teenager. “We want you to be our son too.”

“I don’t get it — why?” Megumi asked rather sadly. The pain of being unwanted.

“Because we love and care about both of you, so why not?” You said.

“You guys . . . You want to adopt me?” Yuji turned around, his wide, glassy eyes shiny with utter shock. “This isn’t some sort of prank, is it?”

“Of course not,” Gojo grinned at Yuji, before turning his attention towards his daughter, who was starting to tear up when she saw that Yuji was about to leave. “You’re going to have two new brothers, muffin!”

Your daughter smiled brightly, standing up and she ran over to the couch, throwing her arms across Megumi to hug him. Then, she ran up to Yuji with open arms, and he bent down and hugged his future little sister.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Yuji said, flickering his eyes between you and Gojo. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise that I’ll be the greatest son ever!”

Megumi, who stared at his lap as he tried to process everything, suddenly spoke up.

“Thank you for everything,” he mumbled. “I really . . . Thank you.”

“Let’s have a group hug!” Yuji happily suggested.

“Great idea,” Gojo added on just as excitedly. “Everyone pile on top of Megumi since he can’t come to us.”

“Wait, wait, wait-“

Megumi’s new family instantly rushed over to the couch, hugging him and giving him more love than he could handle.

Truthfully, he had no idea how to begin processing this level of happiness, but he looked forward to learning what joy was like.

When Yuji cried this time, he didn’t bother stopping the tears. The warm and silly embrace was healing his soul in ways he didn’t know were possible.

His dream had come true — everything he ever wanted.

Yuji sighed in contentment as the hugging continued, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Finally,” he said with relief.

He finally had a family.

Next part.

[sirxlla]

The Child You Had Before You Started Dating Him Calls Him Daddy (Batboys)

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

Dick: Dick came into your apartment with flowers in his hand which prompted Jasmin to bolt as soon as she heard the door.

"D- Da- Daddyyy." Jasmin cuddles his leg giggling. Dick laughs as well and sets the flowers down on the table before scooping her up.

"How's my sweet girl? Hmm?" Dick tickles her and she errupts in laughter which makes a smile flood your lips.

"Da- Daddy stop!" She was just squirming and giggling, happier than ever. Her favorite parts of the day were with you and with Dick.

"Okay, I'll stop." He kisses her forehead before setting her down and she runs off to go play with her today.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about that...Some of the teachers at her school started asking about her Dad and she asked them what a dad was...Once it was described to her, she said it was you....or at least thats at least how I was told it happened."

"Oh, Baby. Dont worry about it. It's no big deal and I'm happy Jazzy thinks of me like her father. I love you both and I'm honored she feels that way." He leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"I brought you flowers by the way, Sweetheart and you look amazing as always."

Jason: Aurora sat in Jason's lap as he played Fortnite watching the tv as Jason controlled the character and racked up kills.

"Kick their butts, Daddy!" She screamed which caused Jason to freeze for a second as he questioned if he heard her right. Jason continued playing the game and won. (ofc he did) You entered the room with two plates of chicken nuggets, Aurora's favorite.

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy won!" Aurora squealed in her pride over Jason winning.

"Oh, did he?" You and Jason looked both as just confused, you never told her to call him that, she did it on her own.

"Rory he's not your-" You started cause you thought Jason would be upset about it due to the confused look on his face.

"Babygirl, it's fine. If she wants to call me that then I don't mind." Jason stated with a smile.

"Princess, Go wash your hands before dinner, Okay?" Jason asked Aurora.

"Okay, Daddy!" She scrambled out of Jason's lap to the bathroom.

"I guess you're not the only one calling me Daddy now." He smirked.

"Jason!" You laughed as heat filled your cheeks, that was something neither of you really brought up but both seemed to enjoy like a guilty pleasure.

Bruce: "No! I push button!" May yelled at Bruce...She has the gall of men a hundred times larger than her, probably her taking after Bruce as far as you could tell.

"Oh, is that so Little Boss Lady?" Bruce teasingly mocked her, the same stance where her hands were on her hips, she narrowed her eyes and he narrowed his back before sticking out his tongue and making a silly face.

"You're such a Silly Billy, Daddy!" She giggles as she speaks to him, distracted from button pushing.

"Am I?" He smiled as the words came out of his mouth, of course his other kids would call him Dad time to time but knowing May felt so comfortable to do so meant the world to him.

"You wanna push the button? We can do it together?" Bruce asked with a smile and an inquisitive look as if he didnt already know the answer.

"I push button with Daddy?" She asked as she took her thumb out of her mouth.

"Yeah, we push it together." He said as he took the hand she didn't have in her mouth and pushed the button with him.

Tim: Anna had crawled into the bed after a while of her being up, like a little gremlin she jumped up and down.

"Daddy, wake up! Wake up, Daddy! I go back to school! You come me with me and Mommy! I show everyone Daddy!"

Of course he was tired from a night of long crime-fighting, as soon as he was coherent enough to realize what she was asking of him that she wanted to introduce him to everyone as her Dad he quickly got up.

"Go to Mommy, I'm gonna get dressed, Okay? Then we go back to school together, Okay?" He ruffled the little girls hair.

"You match with me?" She asked as she twirled around in her Toy Story tee dress that Tim got her a couple weeks back, he'd get her the moon if she asked.

"Of course, I'll match with you." Tim's closet was full of graphic tees so she could just about wear anything and he could match. He slipped on a shirt that had the little green aliens on it from Toy Story, a pair of jeans and some very well loved Converse.

Tim was quick with it, he grabbed her backpack which happened to be the little green alien as well, no suprise there. That was Anna's favorite which made it Tim's favorite as well. She could convince him to like arson if she did, he was wrapped around her finger.

"Ohhhh! Daddy looks stylish!" She said with a giggle in the same tone and words he'd tell her all the time. He was her Dad through actions but hearing that word from her mouth meant the entire world to him.

"Come on, My Lil Munchkin." He put her on his hip and grabbed your hand as he guided you both to the car so you could get to the school and Anna could introduce him to everyone as her Dad.

Damian: You had started seeing Damian before you even knew you were pregnant, It was a one night stand a few nights before you met him.

He was sweet in the way he went through the whole pregnancy with you, the birth, taking care of little Enzo and everything.

Enzo was now getting old enough to talk and you dont even know who taught him it, it could be Jason playing a prank or Talia doting on the baby she saw as a grandchild, but regardless Enzo was now calling Damian 'Daddy'.

"Da- Da!" He giggled as he looked at Damian from his crib across Damian's office, his little green eyes peered into Damian's.

"I'm not your Dad, Kid." He stated to the child as he filled out paperwork, this work felt monotonous and at least the kid gave him some sort of entertainment.

"Daaaa- Daaaaa." Enzo almost giggled as he could tell he was pissing Damian off, he was a little trouble maker that's for sure.

"I'm not your Dad, You Little Shit." Damain was getting a bit annoyed, not because Enzo was saying it but because he didnt see himself as worthy or prepared enough for a child. Enzo just giggled and called out to Damian again.

"My Son." Damian whispered as he gazed down at his son sleeping in his lap, he might not be his by blood but he was sure his in temper and attitude.

"Fine." He gave in with very little pressure from the very little child. Enzo laughed as he noticed Damian give in and he reached his little arms out to Damian.

Enzo made his black heart swell, Like the Grinch's heart growing a whole size. He walked over to the little boy and picked him up out of his crib. Enzo calmed in Damian's presence, finally feeling safe and calm enough to sleep while Damian did paperwork.

Masterlist

[5sospenguinqueen]

Taste | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary: She’ll just have to taste you when he’s kissing her. When Max and Kelly break up, the pair of you start something sweet. But, it only lasts a short while when your conflicting schedules drive him back into her arms. 

Warnings: Kelly Piquet slander. 

Requested: No, I’m just obsessed with making up fantasies whilst I drive home from work with my music on

Faceclaim: Sabrina Carpenter (yes, I know she’s used a lot but I stole her song and her occupation so why not steal her face) 

F1 Masterlist

next.

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f1wags just posted

liked by user1, redbullracing and others

f1wags max verstappen and kelly piquet both confirmed they have seperated, posting a short statement on their instagram stories. the news comes after months of speculation after explosive arguments were caught on camera

3,306 comments

user1 omg did anyone see that red bull admin liked this and then unliked it

user2 thank god! i’ve been waiting for this day for ever

user3 can we see him date someone his own age now that didn’t go after him when he was a teen? 

user4 finally! turns out manifesting works 

user5 he always looked so upset after they argued. hopefully he finds someone good for him

user6 hear me out, but how hot would he look with yn ln

→ user7 like they’d ever cross paths. he’s an athlete and she’s a pop star 

→ user6 yes but my point is that they would look hot together 

→ user8 he did have one of her songs playing in the background of a stream once?

user9 i love how she’s really laying it on thick in hers and he’s just like “yeah, it’s over” 

→ user10 we love an unbothered king

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mclaren just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and others

mclaren we have a special guest in the garage this weekend. thank you @/yn_ln for joining us

6,098 comments

yn_ln thank you so much for having me! i had an amazing weekend but i don’t think i’ll be in a rush to do hot laps again

→ landonorris don’t be like that. i know you had fun! 

→ yn_ln idk who trusted you with a licence but they should be fired

→ landonorris idk why they call you short and sweet :( 

user1 she looks soooo good wtf  liked by maxverstappen1

oscarpiastri it was really fun having you in the garage. thank you for making lando seem tall. now he’ll be in a good mood for the rest of the weekend

→ yn_ln f1 girlies, can you tell me if he’s dating the curly haired one?

→ oscarpiastri well played. i apologise for bringing your height into this

→ user2 yes, yes they are, yn

user3 chat, is this real? my fave singer in my fave team’s garage! two worlds colliding 

charles_leclerc omg please stop by ferrari. my girlfriend, alex, absolutely loves you

→ yn_ln come pick me up! (‘cause i don’t know my way around the paddock) and i’d love to meet her

user4 omg somebody tell max. i hope she gets lost and stumbles into red bull

→ user5 my delusions might come true if that happens

→ user6 he saw her when charles was walking her over to ferrari

→ user4 and?! 

→ user6 nothing. he turned around and went back into the garage

→ user7 yeah after he went bright red! 

f1wags just posted

liked by user8, shortnsweet and others

f1wags only two months since his split from model, kelly piquet, max verstappen has been linked to singer, yn ln. the pair have been spotted numerous times on dates and caught in moments of affection

2,999 comments

user8 yn’s clothing brand liked this! 

→ user9 that doesn’t mean anything?

→ user8 well, considering that is her own brand, and they’re a part of her image, i’d say it means something 

user10 anyone else notice that they’re wearing different outfits in every photo, which means they’re all from different days/dates

user11 i’m going feral

user12 okay but you can’t even deny that this is them because it very clearly is 

user13 people said i was crazy when i talked about these two being together! 

user14 they’re so hot together. i might actually combust 

user15 i’m (s)creaming

user16 the hand holding 🥹 they’re not just fucking

user17 my new otp 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

kellypiquet just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, piquetjr and others

kellypiquet my 🩷

2,987 comments 

maxverstappen1 ❤️

→ user1 aha this is such a dry response lmao 

user2 wtf? i thought he was with yn

→ user3 that was just a rumour 

user4 he looks much better with yn 

→ user5 yeah but she can’t give him the stable relationship he needs so no wonder he went back to kelly. she’s always there lmao 

→ user6 yeah because she never lets that man go. she’s possessive and it’s not healthy

user7 max is so cute with p 

user8 my favourite thing about this post is that all of these pics are old because max is currently in a press conference with his long hair, not these short strands

user9 how could he leave yn like this? they were so cute together 

(comments on this post have been disabled)

yn_ln just posted

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yn_ln in honour of my tour starting, please enjoy my new single taste! 💋

14,033 comments

user1 omg a new album, a new tour and an additional song?

alexandrasaintmleux got this on repeat 

→ charles_leclerc this is true. it’s all we’ve had in the car

→ alexandrasaintmleux don’t act like you don’t know all the words 

user2 this was 100% written because of the max situation

jennaortega but how hot do we look 

user3 not kelly liking this! 

→ user4 i like to think the middle picture is aimed at her for stealing yn’s man

redbullracing blue is definitely your colour

→ mclaren she looks better in orange 

→ scuderiaferrari we think she should try red next 

→ yn_ln i’ll wear whatever colour invites me to watch rich men drive around in circles next

→ alpinef1team pink it is! 

landonorris i liked the parts where you died

oscarpiastri oh so you’re allowed to make height comments but i wasn’t?

→ yn_ln please refer to the end picture

user5 chat, i can’t stop thinking about “he pins you down on the carpet, makes paintings with his tongue” 

→ user6 max verstappen, i was not familiar 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by redbullracing, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln i heard there’s some sort of race on so i thought i would show some support. let’s play spot the team

10,001 comments 

user7 omg did you see that charles and alex were there! 

→ user8 and pierre and kika

→ user9 well, we know who got charles in the divorce 

user10 we all know who red bull wants in max’s garage 👀

→ user11 the fact that they liked a gossip post of him dumping kelly and are now all over yn’s insta 

user12 okay but the placement of the bulls has me weak in the knees

user13 who’s your favourite driver? 

→ yn_ln daniel ricciardo

→ danielricciardo showing this to everyone i know

→ user14 does that include max? liked by danielricciardo 

user15 we love a petty queen because you can’t tell me the writing isn’t aimed at kelly and max 

→ user16 and the bull instead of the kiss

mclaren we’re hurt. truly hurt that you didn’t post a pic with our logo 

→ yn_ln you have a whole insta post dedicated to you! 

alexandrasaintmleux the hottest concert i’ve ever been to

→ charles_leclerc still can’t believe she arrested you when i was right there

landonorris does this mean you can come to the race? like you’re practically already there??

→ oscarpiastri i second this

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

requests open. i'm just slow haha

coming soon; lewis hamilton baby angst

this wasn’t due out until next week but MAX WON!!! And so I’m posting this in honour of that. I’m just sorry this was planned as angst 😬😂

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25

[pellucid-constellations]

I'd Answer

You've been gone. Azriel's been broken. Something has to change, and Azriel would do anything.

Part 2 of If You Cared to Ask

“This is for you,” Mor huffed, plopping down a small bouquet of roses onto the growing garden that seemed to have sprouted on the table. “What is that, number twelve?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t count them,” you brushed off, your gaze falling on the gifts for a fleeting moment.

Mor hummed. “Are they doing anything for you?” 

“Not particularly.” 

Your friend shuffled into the small sitting room and gracefully landed in the chair beside yours, her eyes piercing a hole in the side of your head when you refused to look up. She sighed, and then sighed again, making a show of slotting her chin in her palm and looking forlorn. 

The third sigh was your breaking point. 

You placed your book on the table and turned to Mor with your brows raised. “Yes?” 

“Oh, nothing,” she airily replied. “I was just wondering when you were going to give this up. You don’t have to forgive the guy, but at least put me out of my misery and let me tell him where you’re staying. I’m basically a delivery service at this point. He says sorry again, by the way.” 

“Oh, well in that case—” 

“More than just sorry, but I can’t remember everything he said. It was all rambly and his face was all gaunt.” Mor pressed her fingers up to cover her eyes. “I’m not even sure if he’s eating. Rhys had to stop sending him out because he almost fell out of the sky.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel bad?”

You hoped your ruse was believable because hearing that Azriel was doing so poorly did make you feel bad. Your heart lept up to your throat at the prospect of your mate falling from the sky from exhaustion. But he had had so many opportunities to make this right and you weren’t about to give up your anger so easily. 

Mor offered a sad expression that looked authentic this time. “Y/n, he loves you. He’s an idiot and the whole lot of them are mindless fools, but Azriel has never loved anything the way he loves you.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you snorted. “And he shows that love by forgetting me and then arguing when I’m clearly upset over it?” 

“I know. He told me how much of an ass he’s been. But, I promise you, I’ve known Azriel for a long time. He was just—just handling everything with Rhys poorly. He felt so so guilty when Rhys got trapped. You know that.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and avoided Mor’s gaze. “I know.” 

The lack of vitriol in your tone had Mor perking up. “And you remember how hard he tried to get him back—how broken he was when Rhys sent out his last message. Az feels responsible for everything when it comes to his family.”

You didn’t need the reminder. The tortured way he carried himself over the past 50 years was evidence enough of the truth behind Mor’s words. And you had been there to soothe that pain, to help run the court that Rhys left behind. 

When silence persisted, Mor craned her neck to catch your gaze. “I’m not saying what he did was right, but you know he’s been in overdrive since Rhys returned. He goes off on those missions when Rhys calls, but… y/n, he only leaves without notice when his informants…” 

Mor trailed off. 

Your gaze finally flickered up. “When?” 

Mor bit her lip and winced. “He told me not to tell you this part. He said he didn’t want you to think he was making excuses.” 

“Tell me anyways.” 

“Fine. But you can’t rat me out.” Mor sighed and leaned back in the chair, still facing you. “He does go on every mission Rhys proposes, and that’s… stupid, but he tells you about those ones, I think. When he just up and leaves, it’s because—y/n, it’s because they're about you. You know there’s a slew of people that want you dead for your involvement up in Illyria. He has a team of informants with the sole purpose of listening for you name.

“He goes on Rhys’s missions because he doesn’t want his family separated again, but sometimes, it’s because he just wants to protect his mate.” 

A stone dropped past your ribs and into your stomach. “But, he never told me—” 

“You know these overgrown bats think that suffering in silence is an honorable thing to do,” Mor rolled her eyes. “They overwork themselves fighting the good fight or whatever and seem to forget that the rest of the world is still out there, facing the consequences of their actions. And… I think he just wanted you to feel safe. I think he’s been scared.” 

Something sickly climbed its way up your consciousness. You looked down at your hands as they rested in your lap. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel in six days, and each day had more anger coursing through you, building up a wall that you thought impenetrable. Because you were so angry; Azriel had disappointed you time and time again, left you feeling abandoned and alone, and then he got defensive about it as if you were the one at fault. 

Part of you always knew it was a defense of some sort, but you had thought it a defense of something nefarious. You had tossed around the idea of infidelity a few times, and that rivaled the thought of him simply falling out of love with you. 

But it was this. 

It was him hiding how hard he’d been trying to protect you—however idiotic his tactics may have been. 

“You can tell him where I am,” you murmured clenching your fingers into your palm. “And leave the door unlocked, I guess.” 

Mor had left the small apartment on the outskirts of Velaris before you finished your sentence. 

It took approximately 7 minutes for a tentative knock to sound at your door. 

Mor had left it unlocked, but there was still a knock. 

You took a glance at the pile of flowers on the table before heading to the front door. The old floorboards creaked under your feet, a reminder of the rundown apartment you had sought out after you left. It was a frantic process, searching for a place to stay; you hadn’t cared much for luxury or comfort.  

Opening the door was jarring. Azriel’s wings were half-raised as if he’d just flown down and then forgot how to control them. His face was pallid with dark smudges beneath his eyes. His hair was windswept, expected from the flight, but it looked tugged at and disheveled beyond that. 

“Hi.” 

Maybe you’d been looking him over too long because Azriel’s voice cracked at the single word. He sounded unsure, verging on afraid, and all you had done was pass over his figure with your eyes. 

You tightened your grip on the door handle. “Um, hi.” Your tone was harsher than you meant it to be. 

Azriel flinched. “I’m sorry, Mor said…” 

“No, I—Come in.” 

You stepped back and pushed the door open to accommodate his hesitant steps into your rental. Azriel stood in the middle of the space and wrung his hands as you shuffled behind him, a slight tremor showing in his fingers. You leaned back against the door with your own hands pressed at the small of your back. You watched Azriel’s lingering gaze trail over the flowers in the corner of the room. 

“You didn’t like them?” he meekly asked. 

Something inside of you hurt. 

“They were okay,” you answered. “But I didn’t want flowers.” 

Azriel nodded and his lashes fluttered shut. His hands twitched. 

“I’m sorry—for the flowers, I mean. They were a pathetic reason to send Mor to you. You wanted to be left alone.” 

“I did not want to be left alone, Azriel.” You kicked away from the door, bringing your arms across your chest for some form of protection. “I wanted you. I wanted you to care about me.”

“I do,” Azriel stressed. He took a step forward and the wood beneath his boot creaked. “I do, y/n.  I care about you more than anything—I love you.” 

“Then why couldn’t you show me? Why did it take me leaving, me getting hurt, for you to finally listen to me and see how much I’ve needed you?” 

Your chest was heaving, each word from your lips a choked gasp. Azriel took all of it and absorbed your full meaning, seeming to wince at every insinuation that he didn’t love you. His jaw quivered and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Why did you stop talking to me?” you asked, a broken rendition of your anger. “Why—Mor told me… She told me things. Things that make sense. But why does it feel like I don’t matter to you?” 

“My love,” Azriel stressed. Yearned. He rushed forward, abandoning all reservations and gathering you into his arms as tears began making headway down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t—I’m so so sorry.” His words were almost lost against your temple as he held you, each apology a whisper of a kiss against your skin. 

“You weren’t there and Devlon—he—” 

“I know, angel, I know and I’m so sorry. Had I known… Had I listened.” He pulled you back from his chest, crouching down to meet your eye and wiping tears from your cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was keep you safe. I thought I was doing that. I don’t know what Mor told you—” 

“She told me everything. She told me you’ve been following leads about me and taking on too much. She told me you’re scared.” 

Azriel breathed and it sounded anguished. “I am terrified. We lost Rhysand and now you are in the throes of a society that almost killed me. I—I wake up every morning and everything is good and I am so afraid to lose that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us. But I almost lost you and—” 

You let out a breathy cry. “You could never lose me, Azriel.” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, the wetness of his cheeks now apparent. Azriel’s hands were firm on either side of your head and his fingers laced up into your hair. 

Gods, you missed him. 

You missed him and everything hurt. 

“I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just please—please, don’t leave again. Please come home. Let me fix this.”

The want was overwhelming. It would be so easy to say yes, but it would be just as easy for nothing to change. 

“You can’t do that again, Azriel,” you stressed, shaking your head and causing your mate to draw back. Only a breath was left between you. “You have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t—you can’t leave me in the dark. You can’t make me feel like that.”

Azriel’s head shook in desperation. “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” 

“I need to know I can rely on you—trust you.” 

“You can, angel.” 

“I need to know that you love me.” 

A pained sound escaped Azriel’s throat. He licked his lips and reaffirmed his hold on your face, locking his eyes with yours in a beseeching gaze. 

“I love you more than life itself, angel. I couldn’t breathe when you were gone. I can’t believe I made you think that I don’t. You are my life. Let me show you. Please, let me show you.”

You tracked your eyes between both of his. “Okay, Azriel.” 

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

“I am safe.” 

“I love you.” 

"I know you do, Az. I know."

[returnofeternity]

PLEASE. more of that possessive shauna you talked about……. having the pretty, bubbly girlfriend that even nat, lottie, tai, and van adored….. shes wanted by Literally everyone. maybe a “5 instances shauna caught someone coming after her girl and 1 instance where shauna got revenge” and it ends with reader being fucked in front of everyone or in their hut just suuuuuuper loud…….. Pls…… Feed Me…….

synopsis. 4 times shauna caught someone coming after you and the 1 time she got revenge.

pairing: shauna shipman x fem!reader

genre: 18+, smut.

warnings. jealous, toxic shauna???

wc: 2,442

· · 𖦹 · ·

the first time shauna caught someone flirting with her girlfriend, it was nat at the scene of the crime. you were picked to become hunter after nat was chosen as leader by lottie, so you spent a good chunk of time with natalie. she was angry that you were so skilled in hunting because, of course, you had to be. it's like you wanted to hang out with nat. you'd come back to her in the hut, red tint on your cheeks, and talk her ear off about how fun it was training with her. she'd just give you a fake smile, one that you always caught, and continue writing in her journal about ways she could murder nat while you went on about how excited you were for your first kill.

"if you like nat so much, then why don't you just go be with her?" she spits, her hand shaking with so much jealousy that her writing becomes nothing more than scribbles on the page.

you freeze at her sudden anger and recoil a bit. but then you grin at her, and she looks away like she got caught because she did. she's jealous.

"maybe i will?" you test your limits. you move on your knees, getting up to walk out, but shauna huffs and grips your wrist, making you tumble onto her lap.

"i'd kill you both." she snarls quietly, her voice low and dangerous. it makes you thrilled.

you smile and put your hands on her shoulders, leaning in close to her face. "promise?"

before shauna can push you on your back, she hears the worst noise possible: nat calling out your name.

"hey, are you in here?" nat just barges in, face reddening when she sees the compromised position you're in. "oh."

shauna barely notices the way nat's face falls due to her eyesight clouding in rage.

you quickly get up from shauna's lap, much to her annoyance, and wipe the dust from your pant legs as you stand in front of nat, obviously feeling awkward. "did you need something?"

"yeah," she responds quietly, glancing toward shauna for a brief second before lifting up something in her hands. "i fixed the sling for you. figured it'd be easier to carry around like this while you're out hunting." nat blushes as you take it, holding her breath as she waits for a response.

"thank you." you run your fingers along the leather, noticing the little flowers and what seems to be patches of clothes sewn into it. "it's awesome."

she nods and awkwardly places her hands by her side. "you did good today, by the way. you're almost as good as me."

shauna scoffs. "are you fucking serious?" she gets up and pulls you back by your shirt, getting in front of you and hiding you from nat. "i think you can leave now."

there's a staredown between her and nat, shauna daring nat to say something with her eyes. she smirks triumphantly when nat clenches her jaw and walks out, and when she turns back to you, her expression now cold, she takes the sling from you and throws it on the ground.

2. the second time shauna catches someone flirting with you, it's taissa. which pisses her off because she's dating van. she just has to be greedy and go after you too? she's sulking. and she's still upset by what happened with nat. shauna feels like every small sound is 10x louder than it actually is. she can feel it reverberate in her chest and throb in her brain as the wind blows her hair especially as she hears the sound of your laughter. usually, it would make her happy. calm, even. but now, watching you from across the camp, laughing at whatever the fuck taissa is talking to you about, it makes her angry. you keep leaning into taissa's space as you try to stifle your giggles, your hand on her arm as you murmur for her to "shut uppp."

that's exactly what shauna thinks she should do.

and she knows whatever tai is saying is meant to be flirty. she can tell by the way she looks at you. it's the way she looks at you when you're not looking. a soft look and twinkling eyes, looking at you like you make everything better. how dare taissa look at you like that? but she gets it. shauna's always loved how bubbly and pretty you are, a part of her actually liking how everyone here seems to want you. but she's also insanely possessive.

"you better get back to your girlfriend before she kills me." taissa leans in close, smirking a bit, as she notices shauna glowering by her hut with her arms crossed.

you look back, shauna's jaw clenching when you make eye contact. you huff and roll your eyes, which makes steam come out of shauna's ears. turning back to taissa, you shake your head.

"she's fine. i wanna keep talking to you anyway. besides, i know she's gonna be an ass if i go back."

taissa's chest swells with pride at your words. "you'd risk her wrath just to stay with me?" she smiles at how you seem to blush as you look down. "i'm honored."

"you look pretty with your hair like that," she continues, referring to when she did your hair earlier. "you should let me do it again sometime."

when you look back up at tai, her eyes are low and dreamy, and she's smiling dumbly at you like she's in a trance of some sort.

shauna shouts your name so hard that it echoes around the forest.

3. the third and perhaps the worst time shauna caught someone coming after her girl, it was lottie. it was right after her stunt of trying to convince shauna to get everything out and after she told her that "needing a shrink doesn't make you a shrink", quote unquote. she was trying to get her to drink this weird tea that she did not trust coming from lottie. so lottie went to you.

lottie's always been weirdly obsessed with you—weirdly obsessed with shauna too. but she knows it's more than just whatever shit the 'wilderness' is telling her. it's an attraction. she gets a stick up her ass when nat or tai or van flirt with you, but when it's lottie? she just sees red. lottie's always been quiet with her attraction, though. but recently, she's been more forward.

and it's the fucking worst.

the two of you are outside, sitting on a log, just enjoying each other's presence as you play with her hand mindlessly, when lottie walks up.  shauna immediately sits up straighter and clutches your hand.

lottie smiles at both of you, stepping over shauna's legs as she gets on your side and bends down.

shauna wanted to trip her so badly.

"you should keep using it. you're doing so well with it." lottie pushes the cup into your lap, giving you a cheesy smile and a tilt of her head, slightly bouncing up and down with excitement.

shauna's eyes narrow. "you drank it? are you fucking kidding me?" she scoffs, roughly grabbing the cup from lottie and pouring it out with a smug look as lottie stares at her, then she scowls at you. "you're going off and getting high with her?"

"no! it...it was one time, okay?" you explain, kind of enjoying seeing the veins in shauna's neck pop as she seethes. "we just talked."

and maybe lottie was a bit touchy as you rested your head in her lap while ranting about shauna and how you feel about everything...

shauna's eye twitches, and she suddenly stands up, reaching over to grab your wrist as she tugs you up and into her body. the look she gives lottie makes you excited down there.

"get someone else to drink your bullshit tea." she says before dragging you into the woods.

4. the fourth and final time shauna catches someone flirting with you before snapping, it's with van. she doesn't know why it ticked her off so much because van's always been playful and flirty, that's just who she is as a person, but it was like a bomb went off when she saw her with you. it was the last straw. the last time she could take everyone trying to steal you away from her. again, she was sulking in her hut, furiously writing in her journal about how she hates how everyone adores you when she heard hushed whispers.

van quietly calls out your name just before you reach your shared hut with shauna. "hey. can we talk?"

shauna stops writing and listens in, her hand squeezing her pencil roughly.

you nod, turning back to look at the pieces of clothing hanging on the hut meant to be privacy curtains and to keep out the cold since it's winter again. you don't know if shauna is in there, and it would be a mess if she were. the whole plan would be ruined.

"is shauna in there?" van asks, wondering the same thing. she doesn't get any less tense when you shrug, but she clarifies, "it's not about... that thing."

oh. you thought she wanted to talk about the plan to get rescued.

"what is it about?" you wonder, looking at her curiously. you take a second to appreciate her scars, the paleness of her face because of the cold accentuating the red marks that you think are so cool.

"it's about you." van says. "and shauna, i guess."

you pout slightly, tilting your head. you raise your brows, signaling for her to continue. you're curious.

van steps closer, something shauna can hear, and looks down at your hands before enveloping them in hers. "she doesn't treat you right."

your mouth opens in surprise at her words, and you let out a small chuckle.

"van..." you assume she's joking. this is the first time someone's been forward in their advances. hell, you don't even know they're flirting half of the time. you can only tell when shauna's jealous. "c'mon."

"no, i'm serious." she continues, and it's only then that you notice the amount of adoration in her eyes.

has it always been there?

shauna thinks she blacked out long ago. when she opens her eyes again, the pencil in her hand is now in two pieces, and there are angry scratches on her journal page. when the ringing in her head subsides just a bit, she's up in an instant, flinging the curtains to the side so fast that they all come undone as she steps out of the hut.

she hears the end of van saying, "...like you."

"what the fuck did you just say?" shauna yells with her chest, her voice booming so loud that you get scared and jump closer to van.

big mistake. huge mistake.

5. everyone's either peeking out of their hut or watching nearby as they hold their breath, wondering if shauna's really about to kill van right now. she's eerily silent as she stares back and forth between you and van and the rest of them, her chest heaving.

"shauna, it was nothing. van was just joking." you try and stick up for her, thinking that it could lessen whatever the hell shauna's planning on doing as punishment. "you're causing a scene. let's just—let's go back inside."

"i'm causing a scene?" she asks calmly, her voice sending chills down your spine. her face is void of any recognizable emotion as she scoffs, a cold smile on her lips. then she seems to visibly relax, standing up straighter and looking around with a hard stare.

and then you're being pulled forward by the front of your shirt, shauna's lips crashing onto yours so roughly that it causes a spark of pain to shoot through your nose as it clashes with her face. you gasp in shock, shauna using the opportunity to shove her tongue down your throat. you can't help but moan into the kiss, your hands reaching up to her shoulders to steady yourself, eyes fluttering shut as her big hands grope your ass.

you forget all about the little audience you have.

until she starts undressing you. first, it's the cold you think of. then, it's the fact that you're not in your hut but outside where the rest of the team are.

"shauna..." you whisper, trying to stop her wandering hands as she messes with your jeans.

"it's okay. they don't mind." she looks up at the yellowjackets, their eyes watching you intently. it only makes the anger and jealousy grow stronger.

she manages to yank your jeans down, stepping back to admire you as you try to cover yourself up. the wet spot on your panties is just too embarrassing.

"take off the rest." she commands. she lets you do it yourself, to give her your consent. she knows you if you refuse, she can just lift you up and take you back to the hut to fuck you, but if you take it off, then she knows you want this—knows you wanna get fucked in front of everyone.

and her breath hitches when you lift your shirt up, smiling like she's proud of you. she licks her lips when you bend down to take off your panties, disappointment in her chest when she realizes they all got a good view of your ass and she didn't.

"mine." she growls, to you and the yellowjackets. shauna stalks forward and turns you so you're facing them, pulling you tight against her chest. she looks toward van, who's still by the hut, and sneers. "you can't fucking touch what's mine."

her hands squeeze your tits roughly, making a loud whine spill out of your mouth. you turn your head in embarrassment, the thought of accidentally making eye contact with one of the girls making you feel lightheaded and shy. but, as you hear nat groan, you can't help but peek up at her, her pale face flushed red as she rubs her thighs while watching shauna use you.

you're absolutely wet enough for shauna's fingers. but it's a huge surprise when she suddenly shoves two of them in your hole. lottie lets out a whiny sigh at how you fold and slump against shauna at the contact, and she drops down to her knees as she analyzes the way your hole greedily sucks in shauna's fingers.

"i know she's pretty...." shauna mumbles, nibbling on your neck and biting down hard, her ears twitching at the lovely sound of your broken whines. "and i know you all want her."

[differenteagletragedy]

Simon Riley x Single Mom Reader, Part Six <3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

"We'll be fine, love."

"Are you sure? I can reschedule. Should I reschedule?"

"Not necessary."

"Simon ..."

"Sweetheart."

You sigh and nod, picking up the diaper bag by the door. Emma is on your hip -- six months old now, and her neck is finally working right. You needed to take her in for a check-up at the doctor's, but Charlie was having a particularly energetic morning, so Simon stepped in and offered to watch him for you.

It's his first time babysitting one of the kids on his own, and part of him is confident. He can lead men into war, he can watch a rambunctious four-year-old.

Another part of him though, a quieter, more anxious part that he tries to push down, is just a little worried. Things are going so well, and he wants to keep proving to you that what you have is good. That it's worth keeping.

"All right, Charlie," he says, firmly but not coldly, once you and Emma leave the house. "We've got to hold down the fort, you and me. Got it?"

"Aye aye, captain," Charlie says, giving a salute.

Simon chuckles -- the boy knows he's in the army at this point, but obviously not the ins and outs of it all.

"Not a captain yet, and you're not one of my men anyway. Simon'll do just fine."

It's a fun afternoon, more fun than he'd imagined it would be. He and Charlie make a blanket fort in the living room (his first time, but it turns out all right), then they make s'mores in the microwave (also his first time, and it's a little bit of disaster).

It's fun, but it's difficult in a strange, painful sort of way. Simon never got to be a kid, and he's never been around children. Emma is sweet, absolutely adorable, but she doesn't talk yet. Charlie, though, has a way of speaking that's so innocent and honest in a way he's never experienced. He's sweet too, and he's very certain that he'd die for either of them, but there's a learning curve with him, one he's so desperate to master.

At the heart of it all, Simon just wants to be good for you. For all of you. And he'll keep trying until he is.

When you come home, Emma fussy after her shots, Charlie is on a sugar high, zipping in and out of the blanket fort. You laugh, happy to see your son happy, and Simon takes Emma so you can talk to him.

"Did you have a good time?" you ask, a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him in place for a moment."'

"Yeah, we always have fun," Charlie answers, grinning.

You swipe a bit of melted marshmallow off the corner of his mouth, smiling back down at the boy.

"You're kind of a mess though, huh? Want to go ahead and take your bath?"

He pouts, looking up at you with big eyes, and tells you that he wants to play a little longer. When he glances at Simon, the message seems clear -- he wants to keep playing with him.

"Not going anywhere, Charlie," Simon says quietly. "Why don't you listen to your mum though and get cleaned up now?"

The child smiles at his reassurance, and nods. Simon nods back, Emma still whining in his arms, and before he can process it, Charlie is hugging his leg.

"Love you, Daddy," he says, and then he's off.

Simon freezes for a moment, then looks at you. You offer him a tight smile, but something's off, and he can't quite place it.

"Never asked him to call me that."

"No, I know," you say quickly, shaking your head. "Of course not. It's just ... I don't know, he might be kind of confused? You've been around so much more than his actual father, he's probably ..."

You trail off, biting your lip, and he steps closer to you, the baby resting against his chest.

"What's got you so upset?" he asks softly. He wants to make it better, but he needs to know how.

"I just don't want you to think that I'm pushing it on him, I guess?" you answer, glancing up at him before looking back down. "I don't want to force that role on you at all. I know it's a lot."

He considers his words carefully, knowing how important they are, and finally he admits, "It is a lot."

Your head jerks up to look at him, and there's almost a fearful look in your eyes. With his free hand, he strokes your cheek lightly, keeping your eyes on him.

"But I wouldn't trade it for anything. You hear me? Being here with you, with them, it's ... more than I could have ever asked for. Much more than I deserve."

You let out a small, nervous breath. You're so expressive, and he's always so thankful for it, because in your eyes, he can see how much this matters to you. How you want to do all of this right, even if you're not exactly sure how to go about it.

Finally, you speak again, telling him, "I don't want you to feel like you need to be that though, you know? Be their dad. It's been, what, almost five months? Simon, that's ..."

"I'll be whatever you need, love. Always. I can promise you that."

And he means it, easily. He doesn't need the kids to call him dad, or a big conversation about his exact role in the family. What he needs, from now on, is to be able to take care of you, all three of you. Whatever that looks like, however it plays out, he's all in now.

He needs you to be all in too.

"Don't worry so much about me, all right?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not running away. I'm not leaving."

You laugh, a little broken, and say, "That's kind of a first for me."

His hand, still on your cheek, moves to the back of your neck, gently pulling you against him. He keeps Emma, who's settling now, tucked against one side of his chest and holds you against the other.

"I mean it. As long as you'll have me, I'm yours."

You look up at him, your arms going around his waist, smiling a little more genuinely now that he's got you like this.

"And what if I want to have you for a very long time?"

"Then that's exactly what you'll get."

PART SEVEN - PART EIGHT

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 6 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.1k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only please!

You and Carter didn’t fight, it just didn’t happen.

Like any sisters, you got on each other’s nerves, you disagreed on things, you borrowed each other’s clothes without asking - but you didn’t fight. 

Growing up, your parents fought all the time. You and Carter would sit in her bedroom and listen to music, talking and laughing and pretending not to hear. Ever since then, you had a silent agreement; you didn’t fight and you never raised your voices at each other.

The problem with this system was that you were never quite sure when she was upset with you. Your stomach churned the whole rest of your shower, as she stood uncharacteristically quiet at the bathroom sink and did her makeup.

Maybe she hadn’t heard you, or maybe she had just hated your words so much that she couldn’t even respond to them. You knew she wouldn’t like it when you admitted that you’d be with Rafe if he asked you, but pretending it had never been said seemed particularly childish. 

A little while later, you sat on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror as she did your hair and makeup. You found your eyes continually drifting up to her, searching for any sign of anger. When a full half-an-hour passed and she still hadn’t responded to your comments about Rafe, you broke down and asked, “are you mad at me?”

“For what?” She scrunched her eyebrows.

“For what I said in the shower,” you wrung your hands in your lap, not sure you wanted the answer.

“Bitch, you know I have the short term memory of an ant, you’re gonna have to give me more to work with.”

You laughed at her bluntness, the lightheartedness of her words relaxing you enough to face your fear.

“What I said about Rafe,” you said. “That I’d be with him if he asked me to.”

She paused her work on your hair, setting the brush down and meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“When did you say that?” She twisted her lips.

“When you came back in, while I was in the shower.”

She shook her head, “must’ve been talking to someone else because I’ve definitely never heard you say that. I feel like I would’ve remembered something so insane.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap, playing the whole thing back in your mind. You had definitely heard someone come in, the door squeaking at their arrival. That means someone else in the house was walking around with your deepest secret. And now Carter knew it too.

“Oh,” you said. “Never mind then.”

“Yeah right, you really think I’m just gonna move on from that?” Carter put her hands on her hips.

“We could just pretend I never said anything,” you shrugged.

“Yes you know me,” Carter rolled her eyes, “I’m famous for letting things go and being super chill when I hear someone say something batshit crazy.”

You sighed, “okay fine, but what you didn’t hear was me following the statement up by saying I know I shouldn’t be with him ‘cause I’d probably hate myself the whole time.”

Carter started working on your hair again, her contorted face betraying her attempt to act casual.

“Please just say whatever you’re thinking,” you urged her.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do,” she replied.

You snorted, “since when?”

“I just, like, ugh,” she dropped her head back in frustration. “Why him? Like I’ve never understood. What is it about him?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I’ve never really known. He’s just…”

“Arrogant, selfish, a bully…” she finished your sentence for you.

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head.  

“Just be careful, okay?” She placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting your eye in the mirror. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I know,” you nodded. “I will be.”

“If Rafe Cameron has zero haters then I am dead,” she concluded.

“I know that too,” you smiled.

Carter leaned past you to collect a couple bobby pins from the bathroom sink, her shirt slipping slightly off her shoulder and revealing a patch of deep purple marks.

“Oh my god,” you squealed. “Are those hickies?!”

She dragged her shirt back over her shoulder defensively.

“No! I fell!”

“Uh-huh, right onto Topper’s mouth apparently!” You poked her side, teasing her.

“Shut up,” she smiled and you cackled. 

After that, the Rafe conversation was dropped as you pressed Carter for more details on her hook up with Topper. She tried to play cool, but you could tell there was something more going on under the surface that she didn’t want to say. You decided to be patient, if she was going to finally come to terms with her feelings for him, she was going to do it all on her own.

When she was finally done with your hair and makeup, you inspected yourself in the mirror. 

“Baddie,” she winked at you.

You blushed, “alright let’s go, the boys are probably waiting.”

Carter stood back and crossed her arms, giving you an incredulous look.

“What?” You questioned.

“You’re not wearing that.”

You looked down at your outfit, a crop top, black jeans, and boots. You thought it was a perfectly acceptable clubbing outfit, but Carter clearly disagreed.

“Why not?”

“We’re going out to, like, clubs. In downtown Miami. You gotta stunt on ‘em a little bit,” she argued.

“I am! Look how tight these jeans are,” you did a spin to display your point.

“Good thing I brought the perfect dress in your size for just such an occasion,” she ignored you.

“Oh okay so this was a premeditated makeover?” You smiled.

She ran down the hall to her room and returned with a lacy, red minidress. Knowing you’d lose any argument you posed, you changed into it reluctantly. The corset top hugged your waist, pushing your chest up. Your shoulders slumped instinctually, like you could hide away in yourself. You’d come a long way on your self-love journey, but your self-doubt still crept in from time to time. 

As per usual, Carter sensed it right away.

“Shoulders back, head up,” Carter reminded you. “Let ‘em know.”

You took a deep breath, nodding in the mirror, choosing to leave your insecurities behind. You’d borrow her faith in you for just one night.

As Carter, Maddie and Sabrina did their final touch ups and compared outfits, you pulled on your heels and headed downstairs. The other girls didn’t seem concerned with punctuality, but you were sure Topper was probably freaking out about how long they were taking.

It wasn’t Topper you found in the kitchen, though. 

Rafe stood at the sink with his back to you, his black button up pulled taught over his defined back muscles as he stared off into space and the cup in his hand overflowed.

You smiled, holding your shoulders back as Carter had taught you, bracing for him to see you in this dress.

“Thirsty?”

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He felt his resolve break with the rest of his brain, dizzy and drowning in the sight of you. He had the ridiculous urge to shield his eyes, like he was hiding them from the sun, your beauty too overwhelming to gaze directly at.

He set the glass down on the counter, drying his hands with a nearby towel, never once breaking eye contact with you.

Licking his lips quickly, he shamelessly let his eyes drag over your bare legs and up your body, knowing full well you could see him take in every inch of you. He didn’t care, he needed you to understand what you were doing to him.

When his eyes finally landed on yours, he clenched his jaw tight, nostrils flaring with his rising pulse. He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, telling you silently: you’re killing me.

“You like it?” You whispered, running your hands over the lacy fabric.

Rafe opened his mouth to answer, planning something along the lines of “do I like it? Are you fucking kidding me?” but before he could, the rest of the girls came clamorring down the stairs behind you, stealing the moment. 

At the sound of clicking heels and giggles, the rest of the boys came filing into the room.

Rafe gave you one more longing look before handing Kelce the glass of water. Kelce tried to protest, but Rafe shoved it in his hands anyway.

“We’re not leaving ‘til you drink it,” Rafe scolded him.

“Taking over Topper’s mom duties?” Maddie laughed at the exchange.

“No, Rafe’s much more dad vibes,” Carter countered.

“Yes and mom and dad will be pissed if our Ubers leave, so let’s go children,” Topper herded the group toward the front door. 

Rafe took the now empty glass from Kelce and left it in the sink, and you lingered back for a second, pretending to fix your shoe so you’d both end up at the back of the pack. He watched as you bent down and fiddled with the slingback, hovering close when you stood.

“Nice dress,” he mumbled down to you.

“You think so?” You twisted your lips to keep from beaming at him, trying to maintain some semblance of nonchalance.

“There’s not much of it,” he teased, scratching the back of his head as he looked down over the lacy fabric. “But yeah, it’s nice.”

“You gonna give me the ‘you’re not leaving the house in that, young lady’ treatment?” You pressed him. “You really are like the dad.”

“Why? Would you change if I told you to?” He asked skeptically.

“Not a fucking chance,” you scoffed, swinging your hips as you spun and made for the front door.

He was really planning on staying away from you? What a fucking joke. He followed you out of the house like you had him on a leash. He was in for a long night.

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It took all of five minutes for Carter to grab Topper’s hand and pull him to the corner of the club, and it took even less time for their close talking to become a full on makeout.

You smirked at them as you ordered another drink, knowing you’d need something to help you get through this evening if Carter wasn’t going to be by your side. You could feel Tom’s eyes on you as he approached from the other side of the bar.

The whole Uber here, Tom had been eyeing you in the rear view mirror from the front seat. The only stare that made you more uncomfortable was Sabrina’s. It couldn’t be more clear that she’d grown attached to him on their jet ski ride, laughing loud at his unfunny jokes and hovering in his vicinity all night. You had unwittingly fallen into a love triangle you wanted nothing to do with.

You could feel his attempt to hit on you before he even spoke.

“Put her drink on my tab,” Tom told the bartender. 

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” you said, not wanting to give him any openings.

“Not a problem,” he said. “I know I’ve been kind of a jerk today, the least I can do is buy you a drink to say sorry.”

The bartender handed you the glass, and you immediately took a sip, fiddling with the straw uncomfortably.

“Sorry for what?” You feigned ignorance.

“Last night, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird,” he said, stepping closer to you. He clearly couldn’t see the irony that he was apologizing for making you feel weird while actively making you feel weird. “I just think you’re really cool and I wanted to get to know you better.”

He was crowding your space now, the scent of his heavy cologne choking your senses. Just a few days ago, you found the same smell enticing, but now, there was only one person you wanted standing this close.

Your eyes flicked over Tom’s shoulder, scanning the crowd for him. You found him leaning against the wall, Kelce talking to him emphatically about something you couldn’t hear. You didn’t have to get his attention, his eyes were already on you. Tight lipped smile, you flicked your eyes between him and Tom, trying to communicate your need for his assistance.

Rafe didn’t need anything more to understand what you were asking, tuned in to your every move and sensing your need for him before you even caught his eye. He pushed off the wall and left Kelce talking to no one so he could shove his way through the crowd. Taller than almost everyone, you tracked him the whole way through the sea of people. Tom seemed none the wiser, continuing hitting on you.

“Maybe we could get out of here,” Tom suggested, leaning in a little too close so you could hear him over the music.

“Nah, not tonight bro.” 

Rafe appeared by your side just in time, forcing Tom to take a step back as he draped his arm over your shoulders possessively. Tom’s eyes flew between the two of you as you reached up to the hand on your shoulder and threaded your fingers with Rafe’s. Relief swelled through your body as Tom stepped back. You leaned into Rafe’s hold more, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a grateful squeeze. You knew he felt it when you saw his mouth perk up at the corners. But he didn’t take his eyes off Tom, his work here unfinished.

“Since when are you two together?” Tom puzzled defensively.

“Look man, why don’t you go find, uh, Sabrina,” Rafe waved him off. “Or literally any other girl here.”

As if Rafe’s suggestion had summoned her, Sabrina appeared at Tom’s side.

“Oh my god,” she slurred, eyes red and glossy with intoxication. “Are y’all a thing now? Girl, I never thought you’d actually do it. Good for you!”

It had the cadence of women supporting women, but the undertone was clear. You didn’t miss the disbelief in her tone, subtly trying to cut you down while appearing to lift you up. If Carter was here, she’d bitch her out. But you didn’t need saving from this one.

You tightened your hold on Rafe’s hand, swinging his arm from around your shoulders but not letting go. You pulled him away from Tom and Sabrina, leading him deep into the crowd on the dancefloor. 

Before he had the chance to ask what you were doing, you placed his hands on your waist, spinning in his grasp until your back was flush with his chest and moving to the music. He made no protest, squeezing you between his hands and swaying along with you. Tom and Sabrina watched from across the room, his jaw clenched and her arms crossed.

After a few minutes, both sets of eyes eventually left you, but you didn’t notice, and you didn’t stop. It wasn’t for show anymore. You closed your eyes as you continued to let the music move you. Rafe’s strong arms on either side of you, your brain flashed images of his half naked body in the kitchen and how he kneeled in front of you in the basement. The same fingertips that had so gently caressed your calf were now burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. One of your arms stretched up, your palm finding the back of his neck, kneading his skin as you clung to him.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, they were ablaze with pure lust. Your lips parted to tell him you felt it too, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Instead you showed him, your body moving through the music like water. The bass pumped through your chest, tangling with your thumping heart beat until you couldn’t tell which was which. 

Rafe held you tight against him, like if he let you go you might slip under the waves again. His head sank low, until the tip of his nose was grazing just over the curve of your neck. He was hardly moving, not so much dancing as swaying, letting you do the work his eyes drank in every inch of your body.

With a precise roll of your hips, you pushed against him, and you nearly gasped at the feeling of something hard and demanding pressing into your hip. Your lips twisted with the sweetest satisfaction.

“Thought you were trying to be a gentleman,” you said over the music.

“I was,” he brought his lips to your ear so you could hear him. “But you’re making it too fucking hard.”

Smirking, you twisted in his arms until you were facing each other. You both caught the accidental euphemism and met eyes, breaking into matching laughter.

“You know what I mean,” he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think I do,” you teased with a quirked eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

His smile fell, as did his hands, lowering from your waist to your hips. You reached both arms up, wrapping around his neck and lacing your fingers behind him. 

His eyes swept over your face as he whispered, “you look so-”

“Cute?” 

You meant it in jest, but he didn’t laugh. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as he took you in, serious as hell when he said,

“So fucking beautiful.”

You shuddered in his arms, and he ran his hand down your exposed back, tracing his fingers delicately over your spine.

“Been driving me crazy since I saw you on the beach,” he continued.

His hand kept falling lower, though it slowed as it reached your lower back, asking for permission with his hesitancy. Your body arched into him without even thinking about it. His palm glided over your ass, the soft fabric of your dress and your plush flesh beneath it pulling an involuntary groan from him. He went lower still, slotting his fingers in the crease where your ass meets your thigh, lingering, setting up camp like he’d stay there all night if you let him. He found the spot so deliberately that you knew he’d been thinking about it for days. 

You waited with baited breath, your silence inviting him to keep talking. 

All he said next was your name. It was low and needy, like a request, or maybe a warning. Flames erupted in your stomach and sent a hot blush sweeping across your body.

“Do you…” your throat tightened with vulnerability, “do you want to go somewhere?”

Yes, Rafe thought, anywhere, for any amount of time.

But there was a small voice in the back of his head giving him pause. Your voice, earlier today in the shower, when you thought you were talking to someone else.

“I don’t want you to hate yourself,” he shook his head, sad eyes falling from your face to his shoes.

You tilted your head as you examined him, unsure for a moment what he meant. Then it clicked, realizing those were your words on his lips. He was the one who heard you in the bathroom. You fought the temptation to run away in embarrassment when you remembered what else he must’ve heard. 

After all you’d admitted to, the piece he was clearly holding onto was the only part you didn’t actually mean. You had added the detail about hating yourself when you thought you were talking to Carter and that she was upset with you.

It was too much to explain to him there on the crowded dance floor. You slipped your hand into his and pulled him from the crowd, out a side door and into the alleyway.

Once outside, you tucked your hair behind your ears and looked down anxiously at your feet. The loss of the music and the sobering night air weakened the boldness you had mustered inside.

“When you said we should go somewhere I wasn’t picturing so much garbage,” Rafe motioned towards the nearby dumpster. 

You laughed, his playful words successfully easing your nerves. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself why you’d brought him out here.

“You heard me, didn’t you? In the shower?” 

“I’m sorry,” he blushed, caught red handed. “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything. But…yeah.”

“I didn’t mean it,” you told him.

Hurt flashed in his eyes for just a second, before he nodded and squared his shoulders to cover it up.

“Got it,” he shrugged.

“No, I mean, the hating myself part,” you clarified. 

“So the other stuff…?” He was quick to follow up.

The door for you to finally tell him how you felt was wide open in front of you, but you weren’t sure if you could walk through it. The words you’d been holding back your whole life sat on the tip of your tongue, but refused to pass your lips. You looked at him helplessly.

“I can’t,” you shook your head.

Rafe sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“What? You can’t what?” 

Your mouth fell open in disbelief, incensed that he was the one with an attitude here.

“You know what?” You said, hands on your hips. “I don’t think you have a lot of room to be snapping at me, Rafe. Not after everything you’ve done.”

“Everything I’ve done?” He huffed. “Please, tell me what I did that’s so terrible?”

“Seriously? High school wasn’t that long ago, Rafe.”

“Look I know I was a dick, okay?” He stepped forward, voice softening a bit with his apology. “And maybe you’ll never forgive me. But all that shit? That guy? That’s in the past, and I don’t want to talk about the past anymore, I just wanna be with you now.”

“I don’t know, Rafe,” you shook your head sadly. “I don’t know if I can just pretend none of that happened.”

“How long then?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Tell me how long I’m gonna be paying for some shit I did when I was seventeen so I at least have an idea, please. Give me a date so I can plan for it.”

“Let’s see, Rafe, I wanted you for twelve years, you’ve wanted me for like two days. Does that seem even to you?”

Your words struck him, the anger in his eyes dissolving, replaced with tenderness. He stepped towards you tentatively, ducking just a bit to better read your face. 

“You really think I’ve only wanted you for two days?” He mumbled softly. “Baby…”

It was the second time he’d called you that today. You were in too much pain when he said it after you fell off the jet ski, but your brain had tucked it away subconsciously to revisit when you felt better. He’d called you baby before, when you were in high school. It had always given you butterflies, and you never called attention to it, afraid he’d stop if he realized how much it meant to you.

Since then, you’d reframed the memories to convince yourself that he never actually meant it, that it was some kind of manipulation tactic. But the way it rolled so naturally off his tongue earlier, and the way he’d breathed it so desperately now, made you reconsider.

“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded. “Not if you don’t mean it.”

Rafe just blinked back at you, not an ounce of deception in his voice when he said, “I’ve always meant it.”

His confession pinched your heart, the whole story rewriting itself in your mind. For the first time ever, you let yourself actually believe that he cared for you, that he’d always cared for you. To anyone else who knew the whole story, it might seem unlikely, but seeing the look in his eyes right now, you had never been so sure of anything in your life.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, your deep longing for him stronger than ever. He felt it too, you could tell by the way he drew closer, his body lining up with yours, eyes locked to your lips.

With the most tenderness you’ve ever encountered, he reached his hand up, the pad of his thumb landing on your bottom lip and pulling it gently from between your teeth, undoing you.

“Rafe…” you whispered, a plea and a question, as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Can I?” He breathed. “Please?”

You nodded, never meaning anything more than when you told him “yes.”

(chapter 7)

a/n: chat what do we think? are we forgiving him? only 3 chapters to goooo. Also I wrote “shoulders back. head up. let ‘em know.” on my bathroom mirror as my new morning mantra 💘

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[moonstruckme]

omg as a diabetic i've not really seen many fics about this but your fic was lovely!!! what about a diabetic read with the marauders )any ship or person) where they had a slightly nasty argument and she's not feeling well (sugar levels or whatever u decide) and she doesn't tell them because of the fight and comfort with sprinkles of angst ensue? it was just a thought, if you're up for it! <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: reader has diabetes, dizziness/lightheadedness, brief mention of blood, for anyone unfamiliar with diabetes the “meter” here refers to a blood glucose meter which reports blood sugar levels

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

You seem to have inadvertently laid claim to the sitting room. Sirius stalked off into the kitchen and hasn’t come back, and Remus is down the hall avoiding the pair of you, as he’s taken to doing whenever you and Sirius argue. He might come talk sense into you if it were really serious, but Remus has had his own share of domestic squabbles with both of you; he leaves you to sort this one out by yourselves. 

A few minutes ago, through the smog of your anger, you recognized a feeling of wrongness. The timing is uncanny. Sirius had only just gone into the kitchen when you realized you needed to be there yourself. Now, even if you could brave the iciness of your boyfriend’s rancor, you don’t think you could stand to get what you need in front of him. 

The second you reach for one of your glucose-boosting shakes, Sirius will know your blood sugar is low, and then you’ll be a victim to him. 

Or not a victim, necessarily, but someone in need of care. Someone he has to look after, and who he can’t be angry at, and that’s not fair to him. Even if you do want to stop fighting, you don’t want to win that way. 

But a few more minutes of doing nothing and you aren’t sure you’ll be able to stand properly from this couch. 

Remus peeks into the living room. Finding only you, he comes over.

“Okay?” he asks quietly, sitting beside you. He means your argument; Remus is perceptive, but he’s not that good. 

“Yeah.” You loose a breath. “He’s so stubborn.” 

“So are you,” he says, not without fondness. 

“But I’m right.” 

Remus hums and kisses the side of your head. You try not to melt too obviously; your head is starting to ache from the drop in blood sugar, and you really are beginning to feel somewhat pitiful. “If I tell you something,” he murmurs, “you have to keep it a secret.” 

You look at him, intrigued. “What?” 

Remus’ lips give a slight tug. “I agree with you.” 

You grin, smug and extremely vindicated. Remus holds up a hand. 

“But,” he goes on, “I think you should apologize to him.” 

Just like that, your smile dissipates. Your headache feels like it’s getting worse. “Why?” 

The look Remus gives you is kind, but tinged with bemusement. “You were harsh with him, sweetheart. I understand being upset, but you didn’t need to lay into him the way you did. It was only a small thing.” He lowers his voice. “I think he might not have dug his heels in quite so deeply if you’d only asked him nicely.” 

You frown, guilt and irritation warring within you. “He’s always stubborn. It doesn’t matter what I say.” 

“It matters,” says Remus. “Listen, I can’t know for sure, but I think if you apologized to him, he’d apologize back. And maybe then you could find an agreement about the whole thing.” 

You sigh, letting your weight sag into Remus’ side. Your hands are starting to tremble in your lap. “I’d rather just tell him you think I’m right,” you say. 

You hear the smile in Remus’ voice as he kisses your head again. “I know.” 

You manage to stand without teetering. Remus waits in the sitting room while you go to the kitchen, where you find your boyfriend eating frosting broodily out of a tin. He spares you hardly a glance as you come in, sucking his spoon clean. 

“I didn’t mean to be harsh,” you say softly. 

Sirius scoffs. “Didn’t stop you.” 

“I didn’t realize I was being so harsh,” you amend. Even as you do, it’s hard to keep the bite from your tone. You know that you’re particularly irritable when your blood sugar is low; however, knowing that doesn’t actually make you feel any less irritated. “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius shakes his head. He’s still looking at the cabinets rather than at you. “Just because I don’t do things the way you want me to doesn’t make me completely incompetent.”

This apology might take longer than you bargained for. You set a hand on the counter as a wave of dizziness passes over you. Maybe you can drink your shake while apologizing? But Sirius is standing between you and the fridge. 

“I wasn’t trying to call you incompetent,” you say through the fog that’s descending over your consciousness. 

“That’s sure what it sounded like,” Sirius bites out. 

“Well, I don’t think you are. I just…I think I’m in a mood, and I’m saying things I don’t mean. I’m sorry.” 

It’s a rare enough admittance from you that Sirius looks over. One of his dark brows is half quirked, intrigue palpable. 

“Really?” he asks. 

“Really.” It feels like a weight off your shoulders; you think you physically slump. “I still think I’m right, but I shouldn’t have been so mean. Not,” you add, unable to help yourself, “that you were very nice to me either. But I started it.” 

A corner of Sirius’ mouth kicks up. “You did start it,” he agrees, softening. “I’m sorry, too. For not being very nice.” 

“It’s okay.” You try to smile back at him, eyeing the fridge. “Um, could I…I need the fridge.” 

He laughs, stepping aside. “Awe, that’s my darling girl. She’s feigned an apology because she’s hungry for lunch.” 

“Ha ha,” you reply drolly. 

As you step around him, Sirius palms the back of your neck, pulling you in for a brief kiss. You wish you could appreciate it better. You’re starting to feel rather unsteady, your lips tingling without the warmth. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You open the fridge, pushing condiments aside and reaching towards the back. Sirius sets a hand to your lower back. 

“Baby. You’re sweating.” 

“I’m okay,” you tell him, closing the fridge. You see him register the bottle in your hand, and you try to affect an expression of insouciance as you screw off the cap. “Just a little low.” 

“You’re low? For how long?” Sirius is gripping you with both hands now, one on your waist and the other at your elbow. He seems afraid you’ll keel over; you wish it were a less founded fear. “What’s your blood sugar at?” 

“Not sure,” you admit quietly. Your meter is in here, too, just behind where Sirius is standing. You sip your shake, nearly draining the small bottle. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll be good soon.” 

“Sweetheart.” Sirius’ brows bend, worry and bafflement warring in his expression. “Why didn’t you say?” 

“Because it’s fine.” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t want us to stop fighting just because of that. You were angry with me for valid reasons.” 

“I’m still angry with you,” he says, making you look at him in surprise, “but now for completely different reasons. What were you thinking?”

His raised voice attracts Remus, come now to keep the peace. 

“It wasn’t a big problem,” you try to reassure Sirius. “I had it handled.” 

“Staying away from what you need just because I’m upset is not handling it, baby.” 

“What’s going on?” Remus asks, looking between the two of you bemusedly. It’s not like Sirius to use sweet names when he’s angry, or like you to be so defensive after you’ve agreed to patch things up. “Have you managed to start another row already?” 

“Her blood sugar is low, and she wasn’t going to do anything about it because she thought I was angry with her,” Sirius tells him.

“You were angry with me,” you say. 

Remus looks at you, his eyes skimming you over quickly. “How low?” he asks. 

Sirius crosses his arms. “She doesn’t know.” 

You let out a breath, starting to feel teary. Another argument, on top of your headache and dizziness and the general weariness of your physical form at the moment, is too much. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say. “I knew I was low, I was already handling it.” 

“Of course it matters, lovely,” Remus replies, disappointment permeating the usual kindness in his tone. 

He finds your meter behind Sirius, opening your small kit and putting in a new test strip before taking out the lancet. You let him prick your finger, throwing your empty shake bottle in the trash. Your meter beeps when it gets the reading. 

“Oh,” Remus sighs. “Alright. That’ll come up now you’ve had your drink.” 

“I know it will,” you mutter. 

“Hey.” Sirius all but traps you in a hug, his arms pushing underneath yours and squeezing you harshly. “Don’t do that. Okay? Please.” 

You feel yourself soften. One of your hands comes up to stroke the ends of his hair where it falls between his shoulder blades. “You don’t need to worry,” you say. 

“Oh, piss off. Try and stop me.” 

“I saw you shaking,” Remus admits, his voice soft. You look at him, surprised, but he meets your guilty expression with a half smile. “I only thought it was because you were upset. It’s an odd thing to keep secret from us, isn’t it?” 

“I wasn’t keeping it a secret.” You tuck your chin into Sirius’ shoulder. He gives your back a couple of firm rubs before pulling away. “I just didn’t want you to feel like…like you needed to look after me.” 

“Too bad,” Sirius says, stubbornly. “We’re going to look after you anyways. Shocked you wouldn’t know that already.” 

Remus smiles. He sets a hand to your back, soothing it back and forth between your shoulder blades. “He’s right,” he says. “No matter who’s upset, please don’t hide these things from us. It’s important that we know.” 

“Okay,” you mumble, chastised. “Sorry.” 

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “Two apologies in one afternoon. Christ, you really must be feeling poorly.” 

Remus chuckles. “Should we sit for a while? Give you time to come up.” 

“Sure.” That sounds amazing, actually. Even with the glucose working its way into your system, you’re still finding it difficult to stay on your feet. You start back towards the sitting room. “Thanks.” 

“Oh, my poor baby.” Sirius wraps his arms around you from behind, forcing you to take small steps to accommodate him. “You’re still shaking, sweet girl.” 

“This,” you say, “is exactly what I didn’t want.” 

Sirius laughs. He lets you go so you can sit before flopping down beside you, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Maybe next time,” he suggests, “you can be honest with us from the beginning, and I’ll let you be a bit choosier about what reaction you get.”