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acid-ixx · 5 months ago

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ch.3: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: allusions to sexual assault, prostitution, and alcohol abuse.

"hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!"

please stop.

"i know that we haven't been talking for quite a long time—"

no, you have never once had a solid conversation with him.

and you wish it stays that way between the two of you.

"—so let's catch up over coffee, yeah? i'll be staying at the manor for a week!"

you don't want to, you don't want to see his face at all, his dismissive eyes. don't want to hear his voice, how it only sings praises for everyone but you.

"(name)??? it says you have seen the messages :( are you asleep? you shouldn't sleep with your phone on, baby bird, that's dangerous!"

he doesn't have the right to scold you, he's not your older brother anymore. and you're not asleep, fuck, you regret not dozing off this afternoon. hell, you're more than awake and aware of the messages he's sending you, eyes scanning over the train of spam that clutters what was once an empty one-sided conversation.

"baby bird? c'mon, i miss you!!!"

lies, lies, lies. all he ever says are lies and you wouldn't fall for it, not anymore.

yet you're simply frozen in shock, seated up in bed as you simply watch dick's messages stack upon each other.

you watch, and wait. it's like you have lost autonomy over your body's actions.

five minutes pass.

your phone rings.

it was the only sound that fills the room other than the wringing in your ears.

it continues ringing, reverberating throughout the room, but all you do is stare, stare until the it ends, for everything to end and for all of this to be a sick hallucination your brain played on you.

there's nothing else you could focus on, your heartbeats spike the longer the call sound continues. you didn't even have the strength to decline the call, let alone move as you fear you might end up pressing the accept button.

so you wait, you wait until it stops.

and once it does cease, your sweaty thumb immediately pressed the block button on dick's profile, even going as far to delete all the past chats you had sent him. then, without moments hesitation, hastily scrolled all the way to the bottom of the list, where their other contacts lay barren of messages.

you have only used enough effort to message dick. that's what probably triggered his sudden intent on spending time with you, no? or was this all for his sick pleasure?

fortunately, all your other contacts with your past family are empty.

it will remain empty.

so you immediately blocked them, all of them. the thumps in your heart are erratic, so much so that you had to remind yourself to breath. through your nose, and out your mouth.

that's it, right? he'll get the message, definitely. that you don't want him to talk to you, to get rid of the false pretenses between the two of you, you don't want to "catch up" over coffee, or over anything.

it's all over, you tell yourself.

'calm down, relax...' you're in the safety of your own apartment, you should feel safe right now, he wouldn't bother you anymore.

not anymore would you be led to believe that they care for you.

— so why is it that you can feel that familiar rise of bile? taste it, even? why is it that your body is shaking so uncontrollably?

what the fuck.

seriously, just what the absolute fuck is wrong with you?

you never take yourself as an overdramatic person, especially not now, at the age of eighteen where you had finally learned to live for yourself, to never yearn what you knew was unattainable. your past tantrums were no more, no more you say but you wish so badly to carve a knife into your very heart.

why is it that now— now that you were out of your comfort zone, out of their empty presences and their overwhelming absences; why is it now that he just suddenly decided to appear? why is it just now that you feel your skin scorching uncomfortably at just a single message.

shit, your heart hurts so much. you want to take the beating organ out of your chest, just to make the pain stop.

your momma always told you, she said it herself that you are a brave child, her pride and joy despite the hellish living conditions you both were subjected to.

why is it so hard to believe her now?

just, why are you so weak?

when your mother hid you inside that closet - one too small for even a malnourished child like you to fit - telling you to hush for her, and that it's just a game of hide and seek with the 'bad guys', to not make a single sound at all or even come out if you hear screaming— you did what you were told, obediently, covering your mouth, trying your hardest to ignore your sore joints and heavy breathing.

"woah, mommy! is this really me?! you always make me look so nice." a young voice squeals, the sound echoing throughout the hollow room.

"yes, it's you, baby. you who are so strong, unlike me. momma will always love you." scarred hand, littered with gashes and soiled bandages run brush through your messy hair as your small form sat on the dirty bathroom sink. your eyes are drifted towards a mirror, checking out the new shirt your mother had bought for you.

"i love you too..."

you never cried that loud when light suddenly hits the cramped interiors of the closet, when you were caught and shoved outside of your hiding space by strange men, your mother nowhere to be found. when you felt the same men ripping your clothes apart, knives branding your skin like a searing hot pan; you never fought back because that's what your mother taught you. even when they pinned you down and injected you with a strange substance, head suddenly numbing and vision darkening; you still woke up alive, no?

... you woke up alive and conscious in a police station, where you had questiomed to the kind officer about your mother's disappearance, where she had bared the news that you would be taken in to a new family; a new home where your father resides in. one way cleaner, way safer she says.

yet for the next 15 years you were neglectef of the love your mother had given you. you were only raised by a butler too busy to fully focus on you. you had compared yourself to your siblings, siblings who had achieved so much in so little time.

and you?

you are only a wayne by name, but a (last name) by heart.

but you are brave, you are strong— you came from the lowest of the low, yet you pushed through and through to be a better person, and look where you are now...!

... just look at yourself now.

your phone lays untouched on the bed sheets. it tempts you, mocks your panicked state, and you want to rip that rectangular piece of metal apart. yet all you do is stare at it, sitting upright as one hands supports your weight. your fingers clench the mattress, it does nothing as your vision darkens from your lack of breathing.

breathing.

oh, breath in, breath out. do what alfred has taught you years ago, the- the one he uses whenever you would run alone in the desolate halls of the manor to alfred's room, just because you were anxious of the monsters in the corner of your eyes, where he would help you return to your senses and play you a lullaby from an old music box right after. the one he uses after you two would watch horror movies and you were too scared of any sounds that engulf your surroundings.

your throat tightens, and you want to vomit out the contents of what you have eaten— but you have to try.

five things you can see.

your eyes, although frozen wide and stinging with tears, darts around the room. everything is darker now, it's cold and you feel so small. your apartment was small. unlike the place you had lived before, it lacks of furniture, of life, of personality. the only things in your tiny apartment were basic necessities, but even food was scarce for someone like you who had juggle working multiple jobs and college just to pay for rent.

you can see your phone, the candy wrappers you had forgotten to throw, the overflowing trash bin, an empty bottle of prescription pills, alfred's gifts on the shelves counts, right? you laugh sarcastically at yourself; even a trashcan has more contents in your shitty apartment.

fuck, your chest throbs, you remind yourself to breath a little deeper.

four things you can feel.

the mattress is too hot for you, sweat already running down your forehead as if you had ran a marathon. you can feel the tears well up your eyes, overflowing with bitterness that you thought you had already buried deep down, and your hands gripping the sheets so uncomfortably tight. the weather is too cold, winter's nearing but the blood pumping through your veins scorches your very being.

that's four, three more to go and you hope this would all be over. you hope that this would all be a dream, a hallucination, anything.

three things you can hear.

does your choked sounds count? or does it need to be anything else? fuck, why doesn't it work as well as when alfred helps you through? you told yourself that you could take on anything in life, but is it all just a lie—?

focus. focus on your surroundings. you can hear your sniffling, heavy intakes of air, and a repeat of the phone ringing with dick's name as the contact.

shit, shit, shit. don't remind yourself of that. move on, just get onto the next thing.

two things you can smell or... taste? you don't remember, why can't you remember? your thoughts keep running back in circles to the messages, that stupid '<3', the way his desperation could be felt through the phone.

it reminds you of yourself.

before you knew it, your fist brought itself to punch your chest.

thump, beat, thump.

every time your heart beats too loudly, you strike your chest as hard as you can, uncaring for the pain it inflicts you, uncaring for the way you beat the air out of yourself. as long as it distracts you from the bile rising up your throat and the unsated nausea from sitting in the same position— it'll be fine if you hurt yourself. you've already done so a million times, no?

... yet nothing works.

why doesn't anything work out in your favor?

please don't do this to me.

your fists eventually stops. everything hurts even worse.

just earlier ago, you were praising yourself for all the progress you had made. how you weren't in need of validation anymore. you try so desperately to erase any inch of evidence that you were a wayne.

it all crashes down, again and again, and again and again.

moments ago, you were laying on your bed, scrolling through social media, making plans to hangout with your small group of friends in college, trying to cling on to the good parts of your past— ignoring the empty chats of what was once family.

but even without them, even if they haven't knew that you pushed them away from your life— they're always seeping their way at the back of your mind.

you truly can not erase your past. no matter how much you shake your head to rid of the thoughts, no matter how much you try to erase any documentations, any

even talking to alfred reminds you of your stupid past. a past that eats you up every time you wake up from the nightmares, wishing that there would be someone, anyone, who would hold your body tight and tell you it's alright. your mother, your father, your brothers and your sisters— they just were never there for you for so many years. and you hate to admit it but; you still cling to the wish that one of them would...

would hug you and kiss all your wounds away. drive away the countless of dreams filled with terror and torture.

you're independent now, but at what cost? what good does it do when you still try your damn hardest to live? when you know it in your soul that you still desire for a semblence of familial love.

and now that you've pushed alfred away, you're truly alone.

alone and stuck in a loop of trying to run away from your past and failing miserably.

and all you can ever do is, well...

you cry.

the tears bursts out of your eyes like a broken faucet.

you cry because that's the only thing you know how to do. you let the waters loose, hands quickly tangling itself on your hair, ripping fragile strands apart. you cry because you've been living a such a life full of lies, of broken promises, a life where you have to constantly walk on eggshells. you cry because you want to turn back and throw away all your progress just to feel the embrace of a family who had never once held you in their arms. you let yourself heave, let your voice wail out to its deepest frustration, uncaring for the thin walls, or the sleeping neighbors next door, or the rumbling of your empty stomach.

you cry, for what seems like hours, unending like the memories of solitary isolation, like the wanting of a love that you could never quite catch. you let your eyes become all puffy and red; red like the gashes you have scratched upon your skin, like the crimson, beaded blood from your bitten lips.

you don't find any strength in yourself to stifle your sobs anymore.

not when you're so, so lonely in this world.

and when your voice dies down, when your hoarse shrieking becomes no more; you simply force yourself to stand, despite the spinning of your vision, the stumble in your steps and the lack of air in your lungs; you run to your bathroom, slamming the door shut, letting adrenaline take its course into your already tired body.

your knees, they buckle after its few wobbly steps. it's sore and lacks the circulation to be properly controlled, but you ignore it in favor of expelling the acidic bile that finally rushes itself up your tongue.

at least you find just one thing to be grateful for— that your knees slipped on the wet tiles and land coincidentally towards the toilet's rim, a loud thud vibrating through the room.

alfred says the best way to cope is to never jar your emotions.

it's painful, everything is so painful that you want to scream; you need to let it all out.

you don't care if your knees were to bruise because you couldn't help it anymore, spilling out the contents of your breakfast onto the toilet bowl. your throat constricts into itself, and all you could do is gag and force every bit of food out of your mouth.

and it tastes so bitter that you cry even more. there were some bits and chunks stuck on the sides of your tongue, you can taste the acid on the back of your throat. you feel the urge to vomit even more but there's no more to expel. all you can do is dry heave, shaking hands finding its way to cover your mouth from gagging anymore.

it's so pungent, so fucking disgusting— but all you do is force yourself to stand once more, to look away from the mess you had created and flush it away.

the tears just wouldn't stop, the throbbing in your heart could never be expelled just as easily as the contents of your stomach.

yet you chose this life, there's no more alfred to assist you on your own personal struggles. there's no more rubs on the pack, pats on the head or a warm meal that greets you every time you drown in your own emotions. it's only you who can solve your own problems. you can't depend on anyone but yourself...

if only life was as easy as it is to flush away unwanted contents from your stomach.

if only you weren't in gotham... if only dick wasn't in...

gotham.

he's in gotham right now.

shit.

shit, shit, shit.

dick is in gotham, and you know he just doesn't give up.

he can track you down, he'll find you, he might hurt you because you blocked him— you know of his temper, of his unadulterated anger; you're scared of that. just what have you done wrong? did you take something that was his? no, no, never.

you've never been in his room before. he knows yours because he had visited once, but you don't know his. you don't even know which hallway leads to it.

oh, fuck.

you stumble towards the bathroom sink, hastily twisting the faucet's valve. cold water immediately rushes down, you cup your two hands together to collect the running water.

you need to get to you bearings, prepare for the absolute worst because you know, you know the power he holds in his arms.

with the amount of times he had spammed you, called you even— there's something he wants from you, and you don't want to entertain whatever he has on his mind.

you splash your face - splotched with tears, snot and drool - clean multiple times, rub your swollen, red eyes, and wipe the bits of vomit on the sides of your mouth. you can still taste the vomit. god, it's disgusting.

so you hastily grabbed your toothbrush, pushing an insanely large amount of toothpaste on the bristles. you scrub your teeth aggressively, feeling the urge to rid of the pungent taste of stomach acid. then you gargle mouthwash, twice, and spit it all out.

your movements are too quick for your own self to catch up, but you have to do this. your brain tells you to follow through whatever it has to do.

follow through instincts, get him out of your mind.

distract yourself from dick and the cryptic messages he had sent, that you had thoroughly deleted but...

it dawns upon you that albeit all your failed attempts at bonding with him— you know nothing about dick beyond the circus incident that had killed his parents and his identity as gotham and bludhaven's vigilante, nightwing.

you know nothing about him...

and you fucking blocked him before you could ask for an explanation.

what does that message mean? what does he want to talk about all of a sudden? a person doesn't just fucking waltz in someone's life after 15 years of absence and exclaims himself as close as your friend, no?

it had been so long since you had last heard him call you baby bird, let alone even read your messages, so why spam you now?

your knuckles grip at the bathroom sink's tiles, it was the only thing that provides you balance, legs too wobbly to support the dizziness. you feel a huge lump on your throat again, but you can't just erase all the efforts you had done to get yourself together.

— but at the same time, it's too hard to ignore the panic that resurfaces on your very mind.

so what do you need exactly?

distraction, something to get your mind off of the current situation? before you run away from gotham—

you need a distraction, anything. even if it's stupid, you'll regret it later, just not now.

cigarettes? no, you don't smoke. alfred will kill you if he finds out and you can never lie to him.

drugs? you'll be shot in the head by nasty criminals scamming naive citizens for half the price before you could even purchase them.

... then what?

you look at yourself in the mirror, puffy eyes glazing with emotions you yourself couldn't comprehend.

'despite everything, it's still you, no?'

if you could describe yourself right now, you would call yourself a mess, a big loser who had let their emotions run free for too long, let themself go way too quickly, gave up too quickly, and believed too naively. you had lost so much yet gained so little. a wayne so stubborn that it was the only thing you could ever relate to your father who had estranged you without knowing it.

there was more negatives than positives, you're aware of it.

but if there's one trait that anyone could generalize off of you, it would be that you're always desperate for something.

anything.

and just one time, you tell yourself. one time and that's it, nothing more, nothing less.

once you done relaxing, you're packing your bags and making a run for it. you'll even cut alfred off of your life once and for all. no matter how much it pains you to do so, it's necessary so you could make a new identity from scratch.

it'll hurt you so deeply.

but that's why you're going to do what you wish you had done back when you were still so young—

you need a drink right now.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, is truly just an empty palace that houses buried memories.

with walls that cover the cries of one lonely child; a child who yearns for the unreciprocated love of their family. it was a cage for a child who stalks the frigid halls without any company, who sleeps in a room too small for their age, who cries for anybody to notice the pain that they had hidden with rose colored tints for so long, who yearns for a warmth that could never be provided in the spaces of harsh, black wallpaper and harsh winters.

it will always be innately lonely, and cold.

yet it's even more sullen now, an atmosphere so empty nobody could pinpoint.

no more was the voice that sings of the butler's splendid cooking. no more was the etching of ballpens on smooth paper on an intricately designed diary that stores all the rants of one's daily life. no more were the strokes on colorful canvases that paint dreams of a different life. no more was the humming of multiple tunes every morning. no more was the presence of the ghost who water the plants every afternoon. no more were the footsteps that thud in the kitchen and the hands that opens the fridge.

and most importantly—

no more were the hushed cries of the kid who resides in the smallest room of the wayne manor.

a house could be described as a building where a unit, moreover a family, lives in; but a home is what represents comfort, a place of belonging and safety.

it was a place encased with deep, historical roots.

but right now, encased in a field of damp grass - wet from heavy rain - and the overwhelming scent of petrichor— the manor is simply a house.

for it could never be complete without the presence of the very lonely child who cries for a love never to be attained.

the wayne manor, in all its worth, would never be the same without (name) wayne, a child who had always belonged, but at the same time, always wronged.

bruce wayne never considered himself the greatest father.

he could be gotham's best detective, the most feared vigilante, or the heavily beloved billionaire who donates millions on hospitals, hosts charity events, and so much more.

he could spend his entire life saving countless of other lives that do not deserve the turmoil of living on edge constantly, attend meetings, plan out his every moves, sit on cushioned seats as he broods over where the all the next criminal hideouts; he could do everything and he'll be damned great at it.

—but he will never be the greatest at being a father.

he had long accepted that fact, embraced it even, facing countless of criticism from both alfred and media alike, but it would never be an excuse to neglect or mistreat any one of his children, just like how it would never be right to just ignore a kid's cry for comfort in the barren halls of a manor.

bruce was never outright cruel towards anyone, every action of his baring significance to his moral code.

which was why bruce feels a pit of neverending regret now.

in all the years that he had spent trying to raise his children, children who, in a way, are trouble. who all differ from each other from ideals, to pasts, to habits, to preferences— he wouldn't lie and say that he never had difficulty helping each and every one of them grow to be who they are now.

living through his decisions are never easy, especially if the outcomes were unpredictable; raising a child, let alone children, could go so many ways.

the lives that he had to juggle, alongside his identity as bruce wayne and as batman, they were all an endeavor that he had chose to balance. he had come so far and stumbled so often. but at least by the end of it, he would be proud to say that he truly will never regret having them by his side when he was at the lowest points of his life.

he had his flaws and his mistakes, he had done irreversible actions that he wishes he could reverse, and most importantly, he had failed each and every one of his children indubitably.

but he really tried.

he tried his best to be there for every single one of them. he was there for dick when he had witnessed the death of his mom and dad, adopting the boy who was overflowing with rage towards the killer of his parents and utilizing his gymnastic skills for good. he was there to pick jason up when he had stolen the batmobile's tires, helping the child unlearn the past abuse he had fallen victim to (and although he had died, then resurrected, and turned cold-blooded towards criminals, murdering without hesitation— he still cares for jason deeply). he was there when tim had lost his parents. there for damian who had only been raised as an assassin since he was born. for cass, for duke, for everyone.

he really tried to be active in their lives, supporting them through their blood, sweat, and tears.

... but he had never tried to be there for you.

his forgotten third child, the biological firstborn, child of a well-known prostitute, (name) (last name), whose identity has long been erased off of the face of the internet; the scandal of a century that took the shared efforts of him and barbara to decimate whatever information the late (or missing?) (last name) has in the underground.

(name), his child he has never once bat an eye on, too preoccupied with tim, aversing his attention away from you to train the other kid; ultimately ignoring the immense trauma you must have dealt with from being raised by a mother targeted by most criminal organizations from extorting their cash. it was sickening for him to think of just how cruel were the conditions the two of you were forced to live through.

it was sickening for bruce to imagine the even lonelier years you had to suffer through after your mother's disappearance— years where your father's presence was elsewhere, years that a child has to suffer through alone without any figure to look up to.

it was your name that he had hesitated to even say, in fear of butchering the pronunciation and earning more of alfred's judgemental looks.

(name) wayne.

not even a face can be associated with you, not your voice, your hobbies, nothing.

he couldn't recall a memory where he had taken you to a fancy gala, or one-on-one father-child dates, or any occasions that requires bonding with each other.

he wasn't the man who welcomed you through the doors of the manor, nor was he the father who should've picked you up at the police station.

bruce wayne knows nothing of his third child.

if alfred hadn't confronted him about your terrible living conditions as of now, living in debt whilst trying to push through college, then how long would he have ignored your presence inside the manor? how long would the years pass without him acknowledging any important milestones that you would reach?

until your untimely demise perhaps?

he couldn't even remember a time he had at least given you a gift during christmas or new year or any time of the day.

not even the name of your elementary and high school, or your college university. he doesn't know of your friends, your teachers or what subject you excel in.

you had already graduated highschool, and he wasn't even there for your ceremony. he wasn't there to walk you up the stage, wasn't there to shield you from the thousands of photographers who would've attended should they know that a wayne would attend, wasn't there to offer you a pat on the shoulders for a job well done.

then who had to walk you up the stage?

"alfred..." he stops walking, clearing his throat as alfred turns back at bruce, offering a raised eyebrow at the sudden pause and bruce's rigid pose.

"yes, master?"

"when... (name) graduated," he hesitated on saying your name again, catching on alfred's sudden squint of the eyes. "who walked them up the stage?"

he hopes you didn't have to go up there alone, that a teacher at least accompanied you or—

"i was the one who attended in your stead, master bruce." the butler replies without hesitation, as if it was a normal occurrence. he sighs again, too tired to scold bruce's surprise for absolutely dismissing all the important dates that include you and instead turns back to continue on his treck to guiding bruce to your room.

alfred's look of condescension makes him sink deeper into the void of regret. for being unable to

fuck, how many important events had bruce missed? from school plays, to parent-teacher conferences, to talent shows— was there ever a "bring your father to school" day?

oh... he really hopes there wasn't.

his hands find itself scratching his head, fingers tangling itself onto his hair in hopes of providing distraction— but his thoughts all circulate towards you, a faceless entity, an itch that he could never reach unless he sees you for himself.

the further he walks through frigid halls, the smaller the space seems to get.

how many birthdays had he missed?

when even is your birthday?

you are eighteen now, five when you were taken in which means... almost fourteen years of missed birthdays...

he didn't even give you a single gift card out of pity. not even money for allowance, or a birthday cake.

bruce was never there for you, and he has a feeling that that may have been one of the reasons of you moving out.

he needs to make up for it at least, once he contacts you he'll apologize for everything—

but first, he needs to see the state of your room. to at least have a first impression of you, of what your life was in the manor; any clues that pertains to just who his child is, as humiliating as that sounds for a father.

which was why he didn't hesitate to let alfred lead him straight to your room, albeit the shame he feels for not even knowing where his own child's room is located.

back when he had taken damian in, it was him who introduced the boy to his own room, whom had promptly thrown a tantrum and demanded someplace bigger before ultimately accepting his fate.

... how would you have reacted to your own? he wishes to at least picture your face, probably opposite to damian's, as you get to live in an entirely different space from what you're used to.

would you be pleased? would you look at him with sparkling eyes and thank him? or would you maintain a neutral stance? an overwhelmed one?

he really wants to see you, your expressions, just a sliver of your presence.

but nothing comes up in his mind. not the length or color of your hair, not your height, not anything. he could picture a vague imagery of your mother, but not you.

it makes him wonder; does any of your siblings know what you look like? were you at least any closer to them that you are to him?

he hates just how much desperately the darkness in the pit of his chest is crawling in need to hasten his steps towards wherever your room was.

the rain outside had already ceased, but a newer thunderstorm was brewing inside bruce's heart.

he needs to see you.

as he walks behind alfred through the halls of the manor, he had just noticed how barren the other side of the manor truly is.

cob webs and dust particles litter through the corners of the untouched furniture, the wallpaper peeling off itself and revealing untreated mold and even more cocoons of baby spiders that would soon crawl out, and even most of the ceramic vases they had passed by houses no flowers, instead being covered in a thin sheen of dust.

it was obvious just how neglected this corner of the house is.

just like you.

alfred was always meticulous in his duty as a butler, but bruce had advised the old man to leave unexplored parts of the manor be, seeing as how nobody would stroll by; and to only clean it whenever he would host an expensive gala in the manor with spare rooms as guest rooms.

it made bruce wonder if these halls are the path that leads directly to your room, which it actually does, and he feels even more guilty at just how... different your living condition is compared to your siblings.

it was no wonder why the butler would always excuse himself early, seemingly always making a treck towards a forgotten chamber that he rarely visited.

he'll make a note of relocating you to a room closer than his if you ever were to decide to come visit during holidays or vacations.

... alfred said it had been six or seven months since you had left, just how many occasions have he missed?

counting only fills the dread in his the growing hole of the pit of his heart.

yeah... he will get you a new room, one preferably closer to his; just so he could greet you every morning by knocking on your door and at least escorting you to the kitchen for breakfast. he'll try to make small talk, invite you over and... bond with you.

that'll be a good habit he could incorporate into his daily life.

a small part of him wishes you wouldn't look at him in disdain if he had to forcibly visit your apartment.

he swears it's in all the good of his heard; he just needs to check for himself if you were doing okay.

as him and alfred nearly arrives at your bedroom, the two had already noticed the light peaking from outside the doors and what seems to be two voices ensuing an argument.

even alfred, who had ceased his steps, looked surprised at the presence of the people who seemed to be there before them.

bruce doesn't even hesitate jogging towards the room, unaware of alfred's immediate shift to a calculating gaze, as bruce immediately opens polished, mahogany doors, inviting himself in.

... it smells of bleach and fabric refresher.

his heart clenches at the implication.

"father...? why are you here?" damian's voice cuts through the tension, bruce merely dismisses youngest child as his eyes takes in the space, ignoring how the other presence in the room - dick, with wide, feral eyes - quips about an ongoing "family" reunion.

bruce analyzes every detail, heart thumping loudly in his chest.

small... your room is way too small, and lacks of any design or life whatsoever. a tiny bed is shoved in the corner, the closet too miniscule to even contain clothes for someone your age (just where do you store them, then?), the windows barely welcome any ventilation nor sunlight, even your bedside table was too small to be considered one; the lampshade on top of it could be easily toppled over by a single sway of a hand.

everything is clean, too clean and orderly.

his eyebrows furrow at its state. even a model's walk-in closet is significantly bigger than the cramped space he calls your bedroom.

no proper ventilation, not even any space is provided for... your hobbies. hobbies that he wasn't even aware of.

is this how you had been living for almost eighteen years of your life?

how do you live like this?

just how much has he neglected you?

"bruce...?" it was dick's voice that he had now registered. it sounds out of breath, way too abnormally distraught and out of character.

he slowly looks at dick, equally befuddled at the presence of his eldest and youngest sons.

he seems disheveled, stressed even. the athlete's blue eyes were wide and dilated, seemingly unfocused as his stance was rigid. he was breathing too deep, hand clenching his phone too tight, veins popping through muscles, and he holds a... notebook in the other, this time like it was a delicate piece or artifact.

"... why are you here?" dick tries to cover his current state with an awkward laugh, but he could never hide the furrow of his brows, the flickering in his eyes, nor the anxious stomping of the his feet. sweat runs down dick's forehead; it looks like he's been inside the room the longest.

and dick refuses to get out of it. he won't, not until he finds out just why were you pushing him always all of a sudden.

he's afraid of forgetting his baby bird once more and neglecting your needs. if you were just as self-depracating as he is then... just how well would you be coping all by yourself?

does bruce share the same intentions as him? he doesn't know, his thoughts all leading to a path of thinking about, well, you.

you and your wide eyes looking at him like he was the world.

"i'm just here to visit... (name)'s room." bruce replies, a deep tremor in his parched throat, threading even further into the cramped space as his eyes seem to lock into the multitudes of messily stacked notebooks in the center of the bed.

they were all captioned '(name)'s diary', each having different fonts for every notebook and a date plastered on the very bottom.

"and you both are...?" he stares at them, demanding an answer as he sits on your too small bed (—it creaks, he hates that it does so he promises to get you a new one, a bigger one even, with enough space to fit in at least four people just as you deserve), picking up one of the diaries in his hand; it sports messy calligraphy and peeling stickers, reminiscent of just how old it was.

the hold he has on the diary is delicate as he flips through the first page the same way the eldest child had done. the papers were stained gray from the lead of the pencil, doodles littering every page, from flowers to animals and even faces that bruce couldn't recognize.

at least it provides the void in his heart food for thought, taking in every small detail about you and your hobbies.

you like documenting your life through diaries, that was the first thing he noted about you. the entries all date far from back when you were five or younger, the earlier pages highlighting, well, you and your mother's life. though the handwriting wasn't all that eligible, bruce finds himself becoming fond of the common topics you often rant about from "momma's burnt stack of pancakes" (paired with a drawing on the side, colored with dried markers and glitter gel pens), to the fairytales your mother loves to read you.

as much as it was entertaining for him to read through your mind, it's sad how aged the papers were and how some pages were crumpled to the point some contents were incomprehensible.

he'll get you even more high quality ones, rather than the cheap paper the one he's currently holding has. and he'll buy you designer pens, or do you prefer the more functional ones? would you like fountain pens or glass dip ones just to enjoy the experience?

bruce notices a pattern of the pen's strokes, an array of thinner lines were preferred in most of your entries compared to the thick pencils you sometimes force yourself to use, as there was an entry you had mentioned where if you use thicker lines then you'll run out of pages quicker, and "my mom doesn't have enough money to buy me one right now."

even the doodles in pencil had prefered line widths. finer quality for even finer details, thicker lines to emphasize and exaggerate your art on the side of the papers.

would you prefer mechanical or charcoal pencils? charcoal is messy and smudges, bruce knows as he sees small drawings of a tiny sprite that point towards a smeared sketch of a flower, a look of disdain on its furrowed brows.

he couldn't contain the upward quirk of his lips, blocking out dick's shadow that seems to get closer to bruce.

unfortunately, there were no ballpens of your preference on your bedside table for him to take for himself. he'll find out himself sooner enough though; what materials you like to utilize for your diaries and sketches. hell, it seems you like using a mix of normal and puffy stickers alongside a mix medium to obtain different colors.

journaling supplies, you'll find a lot of them in your arsenal soon.

he'll make sure of that once he finds out where you live.

he looks at damian flipping through what seems to be one of your sketchbooks.

art is, undoubtedly, one of your hobbies too— that's the second thing he notes, picking up what seems to be your second diary right after he flips through the first one, wasting no time to learn more about you.

this time, your second diary talks about your early life into the gotham manor. your anxious yet earger energy to meet your father, how the dick grayson (presumably your idol, with how you mention him as the) is now your brother, and how you almost got lost just wondering in the manor; they all highlight your innocence and curiousity about the world. you write so effortlessly, unafraid of writing down what you truly feel.

though you barely mention the incident regarding your mother, you have stated multiple times about how you miss her beautiful smile and her captivating laughter.

he's grateful that you're fond of writing diaries, exposing bruce to the deeper, more personal parts of your life. he doesn't need to pinpoint any lies or truth. all your secrets, your endeavors, your dreams and your passions are buried deep into the crevices of your diaries, etched in thousands of words and drawings that tell bruce just who you are.

and truly, you are his child.

bruce craves to know more about you in person the more he reads through your entries.

fortunately, it wasn't only him that feels an intense need to take you in, as the presence of his eldest cuts him off of the his train of thoughts.

"y'know, before you forget we're even here, bruce," dick quips with a fond smile as he looks at his bruce's unkempt state, taking a seat next to his father who seems to be in his own world just like damian. the bed creaks against their weight, both cringing at the sound before bruce returns to his own world of... analyzing you, just like he did hours ago.

but he knows that his father knows how to multitask, so he doesn't hesitate to answer.

"i'm also here for (name), i promised to take them out for dinner month's ago." that seems to actually catch bruce's attention, as he looks up from reading your second diary, gazing at dick as if to urge him to continue.

dick proceeds with a sigh, a smitten smile plastered on his face as he recalls the only memory he has of you.

"(name) really has a knack for writing and all, right? i love them for it. when i first met them, they were just so adorable. my baby bird tried to ask me for an autograph!" dick couldn't help himself from yapping, chuckling lightly as he remembers the deathly grip you had on alfred's cuffs, how you were hiding behind the butler's legs and looked at dick so enamored. he couldn't contain his unhinged smile, the goosebumps on his skin made shivers ripple throughout his entire body.

bruce (and even damian, who had all his attention on your sketches) had listened in on his monologue.

"i was the one who helped lead them to their room," he continued confidently, tapping his phone with his fingers, "they clung really close to me when we climbed up the steps, even tried to hide under my jacket..."

looking back, dick wishes he had carried you up the steps. thing was, you were incredibly small back then, and the manor's staircase is particularly hard to transverse through when ascending, so you must've felt exhausted and leaned onto him for support. your tiny legs must've been sore once you two had arrived by your room.

oh, he should've noticed. dick swears he won't make that mistake again once he gets you back in his arms, he promises to carry you the moment you even show the slightest bit of fatigue.

he swears he will, and he'll make sure to spoil you rotten with all the affection you deserve.

oh, dick really wants to see his baby bird again.

"yeah, that's, uh, the only time we had only ever talked." he admits shamefully, opening his phone for what seems like the thousandth time, looking at your profile over and over again, one that had him blocked.

he bites his lips, nibbling his skin in anticipation, in hopes that in the good of your heart that you just, unblock him.

it was just so unbelievable, despite you having all the reasons to push them away from your life, he just doesn't want to accept it. doesn't want to think of the worst outcome; of you hating him.

his baby bird blocked him and he just couldn't comprehend the amount of hurt he's feeling right now. what's wrong with checking up on his baby sibling? on someone he hasn't talked to for a long time already?

scrolling up through your previous messages fills him with both dread, and another emotion he doesn't want to admit— the slightest bit of pride he feels that you chose him over everybody else. you chose dick grayson as your idol, as someone to look up to and eagerly wanted as your older brother.

he was the favorite.

yet he feels terrible at the same time for taking it for granted, for forgetting your his own younger sibling. and bruce? bruce feels terrible just looking at how much your disappearance - an existence he didn't even know existed not until a few hours ago - impacted the atmosphere of the house.

is your absence the reason why the manor had felt too empty, then...?

even alfred seemed to sulk more often, always having his phone around and... talking to someone?

does alfred know where you are? or at least maintain communication with you?

it seems like the family was equally keen to find out just who you were.

whilst the two engross themselves in their own personal matters, damian continues to stand near the middle where the light hits the brightest, analyzing all the pages of your sketchbook. the youngest couldn't even afford to miss a single detail, green eyes mulling over the poses of your human sketches; the anatomy, the composition. all the progress, the mistakes, the erasures... his mind seems to eat up every drawing as if it was a piece of art hung in a museum.

which it should've been— but he wouldn't even let worthless critiques lay their eyes on any one of your sketches. they wouldn't understand you as much as he does.

it's his to look upon, nobody else could understand the meaning of your art, the meaning of his older sibling's art.

the older sibling who he used to threaten with his sword, who he called vile names — a bastard child, he told you one day. he was unable to ignore the glare you sent him, how he felt a pang in his heart after — the older sibling who he ridiculed endlessly in front of his best friend, whose actions he criticized without end; who had started to avoid him like the plague after all of his incessant bullying.

his older sibling who he had used as a punching bag for all his negative emotions, who he was incredibly jealous of, who he felt the need to fight, to compete with, all for the sake of grabbing your attention without seeming frail in his intentions.

his weak and incapable older sibling, who he knew hated him with all their gut.

the unwanted and undeserved treatment he had subjected you to was gruesome.

it was just exactly like your drawings... gruesome and brutal, to say the least. as if it was a medium of releasing all your unparalleled anger. charcoal strokes violently covers the entirety of your pages, it was unpredictable where the lines meet and end, whenever there is color, they blotch each other without harmony, all the subjects of your art either human or anything else within your vicinity.

if someone else with inexperienced, undeserving eyes were to witness your sketches, they would not understand and dare say, criticize your art pieces for being too contemporary, for letting your emotions run free through cheap quality paper without any ounce of care for the rips and tears of the pages.

but damian likes it... he likes the rawness of your pieces, likes it when you incidentally find a way to express tragedy, grief, and all the antagonistic traits a human could bare. he likes just how all thr subjects you paint were muddled with dull colors, sometimes too vibrant, sometimes too neon, sometimes a mix of all— your hectic personality bleeds through the pages.

you should've... shared your talents with him. albeit the jealousy he feels towards you, the sense of competitiveness— a small part of him admits his desire to bond with his only blood sibling... he doesn't even know why he treated you like trash, yet felt so incredibly heartbroken whenever you would retaliate with a blank, soulless stare.

he doesn't know why he felt so compelled to melt into your embrace, despite never once being physically close to you. your warmth always emanates off of your body; he hates that he wanted your validation, your praise and your attention.

he'll apologize to you sooner, damian will drag you back even if he has to, he needs to, actually.

needs to get you to forgive him, to look at him fondly, and to love him without bounds. he's on his path to redemption, he acknowledges his wrongs, all the wrongs he had done to you, he couldn't list it all out but he knows just much it affected your views on him.

damian knows he should've dismissed your reactions— he was raised by assassins for gods sake! he should not be so perceptive of every micro expression of yours, but the connection he feels towards his blood sibling is stronger than any bond, a bond that he himself chose to sever and came to regret afterwards.

he remembers one specific expression of yours after he had criticized your anger issues when he had heard news of you being transferred into another school. it was a glare that lacked any fight or bite, you had long since given up on him and allowed him him harass you whenever he felt like so. but that day was the same day you had snapped, nearly choking on his

he told himself to ignore it, that you were merely throwing a tantrum (despite how hypocritical he seemed)

yet he didn't expect to be overcome with regret.

with hurt.

with empathy at the tears that welled on your eyes.

damian doesn't want to admit it but, that was one of the first times he had hesitated to retaliate with an even crueler comeback to your glare. he wanted to so badly run to you and bond with you and your unadulterated anger, to comfort you and provide you the affection you had so desperately needed— but in the bitterness and the jealousy of his heart, he had forced himself to leave you be; a decision even until now he regrets because... you had no longer seen him as a younger brother, let alone treat him as one, as he desired to.

after that incident, you tend to avoid him more and more, not even eating in the same room as him, let alone ditching whatever you were doing in favor of keeping to yourself.

he should've held himself back from hurting his older sibling, the one who, despite doning no skills or talent in combat whatsoever, who knew that he was more of a threat than a younger brother; was brave enough to approach him with a tray of alfred's baked cookies and a hesitant yet welcoming grin.

and yet he had replied with a sword to your neck and an insult to your origin, calling you a bastard child; the product of a whore and his father's terrible decisions.

he had simply watched as you had left the hallway with a knick on your neck and a wobble on your steps, nearly dropping the tray of untouched goods due to the inconsolable shivers you must've felt.

you hate him, no? he could see it in your eyes, no matter how defeated it may be, there was always a tinge of resentment towards him that he knows he couldn't undo.

you hate him, you must've hated him so much and he hates that. hates how he wants to throw a rampage over the fact that you would never consider him as a younger brother.

... if things were different, if he had never let his emotions and his past dictate his actions, would you love him?

for the first time in quite a while, he had felt tender longing and desire, his hands caressing the pages of your sketchbook as if it could bring you back to the manor.

for the first time in a while, damian allows himself to want, to dream about a fantasy where you would cherish him, allow him to melt on your chest whenever he feels the pressure of the world getting to him, let him sulk about his deepest darkest insecurities as you would run your fingers through his hair and tell him it's all alright.

for the first time in so long, he would openly admit the immense regret he feels, wishing for an opportunity to turn back time, to never unsheath his sword towards you and to never open his mouth to allow vile words to spew out of it.

time passes by oh-so quickly when you are left alone with only your thoughts to accompany you.

it had been quite awhile since the trio were left pondering about your very existence, alfred noted, watching the three scramble about through their minds. they had seemed to have forgotten the very butler who had been observing every single one of their actions.

alfred had waited so long for this moment to come, for them to realize just how crucial you are to the family, how you are the very final jigsaw puzzle the complete the picture perfect definition of a home, how much they need you if they wish to maintain even the slightest bit of sanity.

it was only right that he decides to place the final nail in the coffin.

after all, this was all to get you back to your safety, to where you rightfully belong.

—"it seems like the family has finally taken notice of young master (name)'s disappearance...?" alfred buts in by the door, a single eyebrow raised, crossed arms, an all-knowing look that just screams 'i told you so'.

he continues once he had their complete attention, "i would like to say that i am heavily disappointed in how it took more than a decade and a half for all of you to find out about their existence. if it wasn't for the long months of their absence and even a personal sermon towards master bruce about their financial struggles, they would've long been gone. well... they would be gone soon if they are unable to pay this month's rent for their apartment."

his tone was sullen as he nitpicks every single one of their reactions, a mixture of confusion, shame and regret a commonality between the three.

"(name) is in financial debt?" it was damian who asked first with furrowed brows and wide eyes, unbelieving of what alfred had just stated. "but father wires money to all of his children, right?

the youngest turns back to his father's seated form, expecting a nod of some sorts, but all bruce had was a tense jaw and a solid stare. it speaks of volumes, all damian could do was shut his mouth, looking back at alfred with a pout.

alfred expected this reaction. it was truly unfortunate how the family would never know just how important you were in their life.

yet all he could do was press on, further their guilt and desperation.

"young master damian, i am aware of bruce's willingness towards providing for his children, but (name), like you, had adopted your father's stubbornness to accept any financial aid on their part..."

the silence was defeaning now, tension so thick that not even a knife could cut through it. fortunately, the people alfred were with are trained combatants, formidle not only through fights but with words.

it was a shame they had never used their brains to connect the dots with just how sullen the manor was the moment you were gone.

"how do we...?" this time it was dick who talked, albeit hesitantly. "bruce could at least send a few thousands to them, then? or i could do it, you could just give us their location and—"

"unfortunately, there is nothing i could do about it, master dick," alfred interrupts dick's sudden onslaught, "for even i do not have master (name)'s address. they refuse even the slightest bit of a clue, hence why i have confronted master bruce about it."

it was like a needle had dropped on the floor, an intense, numbing feeling everyone present was subjected to feel.

... what?

it was dick who had reacted first, springing up from his seated position as he stared at alfred's defeated eyes incredulously.

"are you serious, alfred? (name) could be anywhere in gotham right now? unprotected, unsafe, and in debt?"

a long, defeated sigh was what he had merely received from the alfred.

"yes, master dick, you hear exactly what i say."

"but the world outside is too dangerous for (name)! we can't just let them loose in a street filled with criminals who can take advantage of their innocence!"

"they're eighteen, dick." all of a sudden, it was damian who cuts back with a roll of his eyes, "i'm sure they can survive on their own."

"yeah right, and have you even read their latest diary, or are you just gonna pretend like you aren't going to keep their sketchbooks all for yourself, huh?" dick retaliates with clenched teeth, letting himself be swayed by his own emotions. "or... you're planning to track their location without us so you can get a reservation to visit them first?"

"calm down, dick—" bruce stands, immediately holding dick back, gripping the athlete's tense shoulders.

"why should i, bruce?! (name) can be anywhere, we— i can't afford to bide time on anything but them!" he glared back at his father, slammimg his fist onto your bedroom walls without hesitation. cracks immediately formed on the chipped wallpaper, a testament to dick's strength; you'll be relocated to another room, a better one anyways and they'll... they'll turn this one into a bigger atelier for you.

dick just needs to let his anger out, yeah... unfortunately, his father seems to think otherwise.

bruce retaliates with a snarl, "we need a solid plan, dick. we can't just randomly search where they are—"

"look, if none of you are willing to help, then fine, i'll track (name) all by myself—"

"— i've never mentioned not coming, grayson." damian cuts him off with a glare, possessively holding all your sketchbook in one hand. "i'll be the one spending time with them first."

"yeah, right... and you, bruce? you coming with or no?"

defeated, bruce replies, "... you already know the answer, dick."

"of course, dad. glad to know we're on the same team after all," dick lets out an airy laugh, returning to his old demeanor. but bruce could easily pinpoint the sharp edge to his giggles, how calculated it is and how it's all merely a cover up to hide the unbearable itch to get you into his arms.

not like bruce could help it too, feeling the same way dick does— all he wants to do is see you for himself after all.

"then call the others into the batcave, now. tell them it's a priority mission, don't let them say otherwise, and don't settle on any excuses."

bruce is so grateful that he had his hands on your diaries, that he was given the grace to read through your entries and embrace even the slightest clue about you.

although there was no face to associate with your name, no photograph nor portrait— he at least has an idea of your personality, of what you like and prefer; something that bruce would hold dear, something that feeds the growing urge to find you.

find you to not only correct his mistakes, to make up for all the lost time, but to also get closer to you. to bond with his child, the one he should've focused on all those years ago. the one who, despite showing disinterest to vigilantism, chose to not fall deep into the pits of resentment, of committing heinous acts— you had chosen to run away from them without any intentions of badmouthing your own family even after the years of neglect.

his child, (name) wayne.

you were a symbol of what he had strived to cherish, to protect. it was your innocence through these pages, your eagerness to the world despite its cruelty, that relays the message to bruce that he should've centered his attention on both you and tim instead of just tim.

maybe then the dispair he had felt after jason's death would've been less devastating, maybe then you'd act as his source of light in the darkness he had choose to brood in. maybe then he wouldn't have acted so rash, so impulsive and tense.

after all, you had lost your mother too early, and your father was just somebody you can watch through the television and read through the newspaper.

and you? you were forced to take the short end of the stick, without any familial attention nor emotional support whatsoever— a substantial failure on bruce's part. you didn't deserve anything you were subjected to, didn't deserve to know what pain and despair felt like.

bruce should've been the father who had to shoulder all your burden. he should've been there for you as he was there for all your other siblings.

he should've been the man who would kiss your wounds away whenever you go out to the park with him to play. he should've been the man who would sit on the crowded bleachers to watch you perform on a talent show. he was supposed to be the father who would hold you close to your chest as you cry about your first heartbreak, about your overdue projects, about the bullies in the school.

but he wasn't that father for you. and now, you seek love and attention from people who weren't even family. because they had failed you, he had failed you.

there was so much things about you that he doesn't know of, so much he had missed out on. his absence was a constant in your life; what would you have felt if he suddenly barged in on it then? especially now that you've moved out on the presumption of neglect?

but could he help it if he does?

could bruce help it if he was already concocting a way to bring you back? alfred had explicitly told him that you were living off of debt

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,100+ words. no beta we just die. undertale reference. this is my least favorite chapter LMAO, despite it's length i had to waste blood sweat and tears for this and i hate it so much. anways guys pls comment or send as ask if u like this and what's good abt it bec this chapter literally made me question my ability as a write 😭 erm im gonna take a break after this and mostly answer asks bec istg my energy is so drained. also is it jst me or does everyone default the reader as female ^^' it's jst weird for me bec i always write them as gn/male. oh and if anyone is wondering, yes i am gonna add the batgirls too bec they r family !! the entire family (universe) is obsessed with u !! also yall i cant add anymore to the taglist, tumblr won't allow me.

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku , @okaybutfullhomo , @trasshy-artist , @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa , @ilovvmyhusband , @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony , @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts , @darling006 , @starringyau , @samanthahanes, @rosecentury , @jaythes1mp , @pi1nkl0ver , @i-thirsty-boy, @sharks-are-cool-l, @silverklaus, @traumaramacenter , @maddimoon , @anxrq, @thedarknesslord , @h0rr0r-10ver-69 , @lazy-idate , @cupids-pretty-boy , @alishii, @mel-star636 , @sitepathos , @freakyotaku059-blog , @dirtydiavolo, @sunbleachedantlers, @24hrsoflanii, @ceramic-raven , @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit , @tdickensstuff4 , @thickerthanthieves , @arlandvery , @distressed-lezbo, @bunbunboysworld , @bellethesleepypotato, @nebuluma, @alliwantisadonut, @alishii, @kusakiguzen, @sirenetheblogger, @emmbny, @ryukyuin, @solkara, @starsdotalk, @nightstarblue, @huhuhhuhh, @shadowpup163, @sunshine-skz, @24hrsoflanii, @bazellawrites, @pato-spoiler-27, @harumy07cat, @rains-mae, @funnybunnyxxx, @littlelilithspost, @howisgroguthiscute, @yuyuzi-ling, @tullipam, @coldcrusadehideout, @princessloveweird, @hybridcon

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sarahreadsfic · 1 year ago

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hello,,, i just want to say i love reading your tags on my posts 🥹🥹 ur rambles are so fun to read and i completely agree with all of them,,,

hi!! i'm so so glad u like reading them :'D you come up with the most adorable (and accurate) headcanons omg, thank you so much for your wonderful writing and for messaging me!!! <3

#sarah answers message #kazumist #just wanna say apart from a select few blogs that i check in on the only way i typically find writing is through the character tag #and the only character tag i regularly check (like. every day) is tighnari's lol #so messaging me is a surefire way to get me to read all the rest of your work and spam likes on your blog #and i promise that 100% of the time i appreciate and am so excited when writers on here message me about anything #because that's more content to read baby!!!#all that is to say thank u for bringing ur blog to my attention i am v excited to read everything bc i've loved everything i've read so far #hope u don't get sick of my tags anytime soon hehehe >:)

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no-144444 · 3 months ago

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mishaps online- o.piastri (81)

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summary: oscar accidentally posts a nude online the night before your big concert and launch. oops.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! fem! reader

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As you stared at the screen in front of you, your eyes filled with horror. Oscar Jack Piastri, your boyfriend of 3 years, had just posted a nude to his instagram story.

What the fuck.

You immediately sprung into action, calling him since you were in Berlin for a concert. He didn’t pick up.

You called Lando next, knowing they were in the same hotel, especially since it was 3am in the fucking morning. You were already getting bombed by tweets and messages, from friends and fans, all asking if you’d seen it.

“What?” he groaned, groggy from being woken up.

“Lando! Go into Oscar’s room right now please,” you pleaded, happy that you had gotten ahold of someone.

“What?- Why?” he asked, but obliged all the same, getting out of bed. “You know we're supposed to be on vacation right? He can go to sleep.”

“Is he awake?” You asked, ignoring his complaining.

“Osc?” he called as he knocked. “Y/n’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you!”

“Huh?” you heard a yawn from Oscar, then shuffling as he got up. Of course Oscar would send you a nude, then immediately fall asleep. For fuck’s sake. “Baby?” He took the phone out of Lando’s hand and held it to his ear. “You alright?”

“You posted a nude on instagram, please go delete it now,” you blurted out.

He stood still for a moment. “W-what?”

Lando laughed so hard he fell over. “There’s no way!”

“I-I didn’t,” he panicked then lowered his voice. “I sent it to you.”

“Well, you sent it to me and your instagram story,” you explained.

Lando was on the floor, cackling as Oscar almost tripped over him to get to his phone and delete the photo.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated as he went through his phone, taking down the photo.

“You are such a muppet!” Lando cried, breathless from laughing.

“Shut up!” Oscar replied. “This is your fucking fault! You told me to send the picture!”

“To Y/n, not the fucking world Osc!” he chuckled.

To be fair, you understood where Lando was coming from, this was objectively funny. You’d probably be laughing if you weren;t his girlfriend, and if you wouldn’t have to explain this entire situation to your family, including your parents. God, just thinking about it made you sick.

“Is the photo down?” you asked.

“Yeah, it’s down,” he sighed. “I’m so sorry baby I just-”

“Let’s not have this conversation with Lando in the room,” you stopped him and he chuckled.

“Good idea.”

“Zak’s probably going to call you, and I’m going to go call Margaret now. I love you Osc, talk later?”

“I love you too,” he sighed. “Talk later.”

You hung up the phone and let yourself scream into your pillow for a few seconds, then dialled the number of your manager, Margaret.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Oscar posted a nude on instagram by accident,” you sighed. “He’s sorry.”

She took a deep breath. “You know how I love you, right?”

“Yeah?” You answered hesitantly.

“And how I love you and Oscar and how happy he makes you?”

“Yes?”

“Well right now, I fucking hate him and want him dead. Please give me a few hours to work on this before I can properly face you again, alright?”

You smiled, happy she was taking care of it. “Thank you, and sorry- again.”

She hung up the phone with a groan of frustration.

Next, someone else called. Oscar’s mom.

“Hey Nicole,” you tried to keep calm as you spam-texted Oscar about the situation. No way his mother was calling you about this.

“Hey Y/n,” she smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Is my son really stupid enough to accidentally post a nude picture of himself to his instagram and leave it up for a whole 5 minutes?”

“Apparently so,” you shrugged, slightly laughing.

Nicole chuckled. “Are you laughing?”

“If I don’t laugh I’ll probably cry, so, yeah.”

She laughed at that. “I’m logging off the internet for a while, tell Osc to text me, yeah?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Sorry about this.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault, don’t worry. How are you?”

“Shocked,” you answered truthfully. “And a bit scared of what’s coming next.”

“I just hope you two are ok,” she added. “I need you as my daughter-in-law.”

You smiled a genuine smile. Nicole was always so welcoming and lovely. “We’re all good, don ‘t worry.”

“Good,” she smiled. “I’ll leave you to it, love you, talk soon.”

“Talk soon,” you smiled and she hung up.

Immediately, Lando called you.

“I thought you’d be back in bed,” you teased.

“Trust me, being in the room for Zak and Oscar’s call was worth the missed sleep,” he chuckled and you heard Oscar sigh in the background. “He’s gotten his phone taken off him!” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, they’ve given me a fucking flip phone instead,” he revealed. “How’d it go with my mum?”

“She’s not ecstatic with your choices, but she’s alright. She mostly wanted to know if we were alright, which we are, in case you were wondering,” you explained. “She wants you to call her.”

“Now?"

“Nah, maybe tomorrow.”

“How are you?” He asked, worried about what you’d say.

“Not an ideal situation, but I’m not mad at you. It was an honest mistake, seriously darling,” you reassured him. “Plus now the internet knows why I constantly have a bruised cervix,” you added, wanting him to loosen up and relax. It was a mistake, an honest mistake.

You heard Lando laughing, and you got a chuckle out of Oscar, which was enough for you. You stayed on call with them for a while, then turned off your phone to get some rest.

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

You woke up to about a million messages from hundred of different people. Family and friends teasing on the various groupchats, management and your record label freaking out, and Oscar just being upset.

Osc <3: I feel like such an idiot. I cannot believe I did that, especially the night before the start of your tour, and the night of the launch. I'm so sorry baby.

You: It's alright Oscar, I promise. Margaret is already sorting something out right now. It's ok, I swear.

Osc <3: I still feel awful. I'm so sorry.

You: It's alright. Did you at least get your phone back?

Osc <3: Yeah but no social media on it anymore. I can't even look at your instagram :(

You: I think you'll survive lol :) I love you

Osc <3: I love you too.

You got up and out of bed, tired from the stressful night. The concert tonight, the launch tonight. What were your fans going to say?

comments:

ynsbff: something as big as oscar's d-

-> user12: GIRL

user56: girl is bouncing back fast from the shocker last night was

-> user29: fr i'd still be shook my boyfriend posted THAT

landonorris: legend ��

pierregasly: 💙💙💙

logansargeant: can't wait 💙💙💙

lewishamilton: burning it down and shining on ��

-> user58: ????? what does this mean????

-> user80: the return of XNDA????

russellgeorge: 💙

valterribottas: 💙

mclaren: 💙🧡

user23: why is the entire grid in the comments with blue hearts?

-> user82: literally? like what do yall know?

danielriccardo: don't know what's gonna hit 'em 💙💙

mercedes: 💙

user13: why is oscar the only one with pink hearts?

-> landonorris: he's not allowed his phone, it's his publicist 😁

-> user90: DAMN. exposing ur bro like that is crazy

-> landonorris: so is posting a nude 🤷🤷🤷🤷

kmag: 💙

charlesleclerc: 💙💙💙

maxverstappen: can't wait 💙

fernandoalonso: Mi favorita💙

lancestroll: it's going to be a wild one 💙

alexalbon: legendary 💙💙💙

lilymhe: my girl 💙💙💙

-> alexalbon: *cough* i'm ur boyfriend? *cough*

-> y/ny/l/n: bless you? do I need to call u a doctor?

zhouguanyu: 💙💙💙

carlossainz: 💙

nicohulkenburg: 💙

estebanocon: 💙

-> landonorris: plz don't crash into this bro 🙌

-> y/ny/l/n: HAHHAHHAHHA

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

You stepped onto the stage and the crowd went crazy. This was it, your first world tour. You were living your dream.

"Hello!" you cheered into your microphone. "I am so happy to be here, thank you all for coming!"

The crowd went wild again.

"Now, before we start, I have a pretty special announcement to make..." you paused for dramatic affect. "My next album 'Curious' drops tonight at midnight! And a very special feature from one of my very good friends, XNDA!"

As the crowd screamed over you and Lewis, who just came on stage, the opening of 'Save your tears' played. You two danced around the stage as you sang, excited with the reception from fans. For the rest of the concert, Lewis stayed on (since he was on another song, but also because he helped produce the album) and you two had so much fun. The concert ended at exactly midnight, and you came off stage on such a high. And there he was. Your Oscar, with a wide smile on his face and his arms open for you to jump into. Which you did, happily.

"Congratulations," he smiled, holding you close.

"Congratulations to you too," you smiled.

He pulled back, a confused look on his face. "What for?"

"Listen to 'Stargirl Interlude'," you shrugged, a smirk on your face. "And tell your mom not to listen to it, yeah?"

He smirked. "Whatever you say baby," and with that, he kissed you. His large hands holding your cheeks as you kissed him back, happy to be in his arms again.

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

comments

user15: OMFG 'STARLGIRL INTERLUDE' WHAT IS GOING ON

user12: wishing i was y/n rn....

landonorris: being horny on main? cringe.

-> y/ny/l/n: not winning for 6 years? cringe.

-> maxfewtrell: HA

lewishamilton: we told yall 🤷🤷🤷

pierregasly: kika has not stopped playing this 💙💙💙

-> user51: as she should.

danielriccardo: since when was my back replaced with oscar's y/n???

-> oscarpiastri: sorry mate, just better 🤷🤷🤷

-> y/ny/l/n: at least daniel's better at keeping his pants on online 😁

-> oscarpiastri: ok I deserved that.

-> landonorris: HAHAHHAHAH

alexalbon: RELAX I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT UR SEX LIFE.

-> y/ny/l/n: bitch ik all about urs too. lily tells me everything.

-> alexalbon: brb, having a breakdown.

logansargeant: @ oscarpiastri first i had to see your dick and now this? mate leave us alone.

-> oscarpiastri: SHUT UP I APOLOGISED.

-> logansargeant: NOT ENOUGH.

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

comments

lewishamilton: mr. stargirl interlude? mr. billie boss nova? mr. the diner? mr. chihiro? is that you?

-> oscarpiastri: hush

logansargeant: @ oscarpiastri hate club leader

-> landonorris: can I join?

-> y/ny/l/n: lando you've been singing chihiro all day. stfu.

-> landonorris: ...

-> user37: were you silent or silenced?

y/ny/l/n: MY BEAUTIFUL BOYFRIEND

-> y/nsbff: thirsting on the main?

-> y/ny/l/n: what have i become?😥

user89: ok, but who is 'i didn't change my number' about?

-> y/ny/l/n: @ logansargeant actually wrote it about williams 😥😥😥

-> logansargeant: Y/N. TOO FAR.

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

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #mclaren #oscar piastri x fem!reader #f1 fluff

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pixiesndberries · 11 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃, 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 —

a small series of Jujutsu Kaisen men as your husband !

☆ OUR STARS : Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Choso Kamo, Aoi Todo, Toji Fushiguro, and more !

━ REQUESTED BY : none

━⁠ WARNINGS : none

ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : were back again at daily posting 🙏🏻 to my pookies who supported me, y'all made me giggle and kickin' my feet in my bed last night 👉🏻👈🏻 love lots!

GOJO SATORU, as your husband !

• Gojo being your husband is no different from being your boyfriend — he still gotta be that same person you dated few years ago, though he became more serious about situations and decisions because you guys are married but his goofy, annoying, clingy side is still there — I mean when he met you and been with you for like two weeks your caller name is already set as 'wifey'.

Gojo who totally acts like a mom when you leave for work, he is like a freaking HOUSEWIFE —

"honey!" he sings as he walks into the living room seeing you brush your hair Infront of the mirror, getting ready for work. "hmm?" you responded and quickly turns your head at him — he's wearing a this is what an awesome husband looks like apron which made you too stunned to speak, "I created a bento for you." he smiles as he hands out a nicely wrapped bento box which was really new to you because it's always you who keep creating bentos for him, usually when he leaves for a mission.

"thank you, honey." you say softly with a warm smile as you accept his bento that he specially created for you, he can't help but to feel like a love sick teenager seeing you smile like that. He officially takes the position of being a housewife 🫡

Gojo who couldn't stop talking about the future he wants with you like nonstop — this man would talk about having three million carbon copy of him with you and would name them after megumi, yuji, nanami and basically all of his friends, students, and dead relatives 🏃🏻‍♀️💨 — I FEEL LIKE HE GOTTA BE THAT TYPE OF PERSON.

Gojo always flexes you everyday and YOU are his hyper fixation — argue with the wall, he gotta be the type of man to say "she's my wife." randomly when he's talking to an old friend he haven't seen for a long time. HE WILL BE THE HUSBAND WHO YOU WILL SEE WEARING "I LOVE MY WIFE" TYPE OF SHIRT WITH THE UGLIEST FONT AND PHOTO TEMPLATE EVER. Once a person mentions your name he ain't gonna shut the fuck up.

I just know this marriage go'n be like Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively's relationship 🙏🏻 ABSOLUTELY RANDOM TEXTS FROM HIM, UPDATING YOU TOO MUCH.

2:32 pm

gojo : shitting at the mall cuz i don't have anywhere to shit on.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : i miss you my wife, my beautiful wife.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : your very handsome husband ❤️

2:40 pm

you : stop spamming me messages love, im at work 🙏🏻

gojo : why? is it turning you on 😏

you : that's a photo of your feet.

Gojo who became a seriously hands on person when you told him that you're pregnant — when he has missions with yuji, megumi, or maybe nobara and you told him that you're very tired to do anything today he will be like,"okay kids, I got to go I have important things to do." and dashed away before they could say something and mf arrived at yalls house within a second.

Gojo who cried when he carry his baby for the first time, he was sobbing like hell — girl dad? boy dad? BRO HE IS BOTH ‼️ "okay we'll name this one suguru and this one-" he is going to come up with the most ridiculous names, probably the worst one was his dead ancestor.

okay seriously, Gojo would be a full time dad after his children were born — he will always stay at home as much as he can, having twins isn't easy plus he's trying to help you with his full power and make sure you don't feel alone through this.

"gojo.." you grumble as you felt his presence disappearing next to you at bed, you open your eyes and sees he wasn't there which led you to stand up and start looking for him — you walk out of the bedroom and noticed that the twin's bedroom door was open so you check it out.

in your suprise, gojo was in the rocking chair with the twin's in his arms peacefully sleeping and he is snoring like hell. You can't help but smile seeing this moment, it warms you heart. You quickly grabbed your phone and took a quick photo, this is what you exactly wished for.

Gojo who couldn't stop posting you and his little angels and his fans are absolutely living for it, it's like his day wouldn't complete without posting cute photos of his angels and of course, you as well. Gojo is indeed a Facebook mom —

; gojosatoru

tagged : @y/n.instagram | fam time 🤍 !

liked by megumi.22 and 8,957 others

itaaa.yuji | I volunteer as a tribute to babysit them 🫡

nobaraaa | CUTIES.

shokoleiri.7 | adorbs

─ REBLOGS, LIKES, AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!

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gothicgaycowboy · 3 months ago

Text

accidentally breaking aegon’s nose by riding his face too hard

I was finally able to write something short and sweet aren’t you proud of me 🤭? as always this is my modern aegon who’s parents are rhaenyra and alicent, hope you enjoy it<3 (1.2k words)

You’d think by now you would know how to sit on your boyfriend’s face, but to be fair it wasn’t really your fault.

Aegon had been working you up all day knowing you would be too busy with work to get a moment away. From texting you every dirty thing he wanted to do to you, to sending you pictures of him laying in your bed with his half-hard cock telling you how much he missed you. You didn’t understand what had gotten into him. He’d always had a high libido but he wasn't usually such a tease about it.

Whatever it was though, it worked on you. You had gotten almost no work done, way too distracted by the spam of dirty messages. Just when you thought he was giving you a break, a familiar vibration pulsed from your phone. At that point you knew the drill, make sure no one was around before clicking on the notification.

Aeggs: he's so lonely without you :(

Accompanying the text was a photo of him; naked thighs spread wide, shirt unbuttoned revealing the chain that dangled around his neck, hand squeezing around the tip of his pink leaking cock as it dripped down his pale fingers.

At that moment you craved nothing more than to lick his hand clean, and suck the rest of his cum out of his beautiful cock. Your thighs squeezed together so hard you were sure they would be sore the next day.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you may or may not have deceived your boss into thinking you were too ill to continue working. Faking being sick is something that everyone has done at some point in their lives—maybe not to go home and fuck their slutty boyfriends but still.

He didn’t even get a word in before you directed him. “Bed, now.”

He may not have been known as the smartest of all his brothers but he could follow orders like no other. By the time your clothes hit the floor Aegon was already laid bare before you. The sight he’d been teasing you with all day, finally within your reach.

“Don’t make me wait for it, baby,” a cocky smile graced your boyfriend’s pink lips. The fucking nerve of him.

“Me, make you wait? Me, tease you? Oh you’re gonna get it now.” You crawled over his body placing your legs on either side of his neck. “Put your hands where I can see them. You’re not allowed to touch me for that shit you pulled earlier, but I’m going to enjoy myself.”

He nodded obediently to your demands, clearly eager to get to work on your ‘punishment’. Without another word you plopped yourself down onto his waiting mouth, tugging his silver hair into your hands like a lead.

His tongue found its way to your clit quicker than it ever had before, causing you to jump with surprise. No matter how many times you two had sex you were always shocked by how fucking good he was at it. “Fuuck, Aegon,” Despite being in control this time you couldn’t help the submissive whines that spilled out of you.

The movements of Aegon’s mouth became more intense as his confidence tended to boost when you made ‘pretty noises’ for him—his words, not yours. His tongue expertly created a pattern of movements through your lips, dipping back and forth from your aching clit to your desperate hole, occasionally sucking at your bud until you could feel your pulse running through it.

He was like a man starved despite the fact that you had just done this very thing the night prior.

“You like that baby?” His question was mumbled against your pussy.

You sighed out of your nose just as upset as you were turned on that he was still so pleased to have you denying him any affection after the stunt he pulled today. “No talking.” Your tone was as harsh as you tugged harder at his locks until his face was completely flush to your cunt.

Still he persisted at his usual strenuous pace. You wanted to cry from pleasure, toes curling on both sides of your boyfriends head. Your hips began to rock at their own speed, meeting his mouth with equal eagerness.

“Yes just like that,” The vibrations of Aegons moans against you soaking core making it impossible to hold off your impending orgasm much longer. You were already so close and it felt like it had just started. Honestly it was a wonder to you how you managed to last even this long with how pent up you were all day.

“I’m gonna come, fuck,” Aegon let out a clear groan of encouragement underneath you. Unconsciously your pelvis began grinding harder against the Targaryen’s face, his nose bumping against your clit when it wasn’t being sucked between his lips. Your back arched as you visualized your peak coming to an end.

Harder.

Faster.

Pelvis meeting skull in a storm of passion.

Without meaning to, you slipped higher up your boyfriend’s face while grinding against him, desperate to reach your end. That’s when you felt it.

Crack.

You broke his fucking nose.

You acted swiftly, pulling yourself off him and making sure he was at least still alive. You gently tugged his face in your hands to gaze in your direction, getting a better look to assess the damage. “Fuck baby are you okay? I’m so sorry, oh shit—” his nose was leaning to the left side of his face with dark streams of blood leaking out of each nostril.

His eyes welled up slightly with tears in his waterline. “Why’d you stop?” Was the first thing out of his mouth.

You were completely blown away by his seeming lack of concern for his own safety. “You’re fucking joking right? Aegon, I broke your nose!”

“Yeah but you were almost done anyway.” He defended, looking more upset that you didn’t come than his bloodied nose.

A smile grew across your lips. How could one person manage to be so frustrating yet so cute at the same time? Your thumbs rubbed softly at the sides of his injured face. “You really are something you know that?” You laughed.

“Thank you.” He grinned before wincing at the pain of moving his face.

“We have to get you to the ER.” You moved away from him, running around the room to pick up both your clothes and dress yourself.

“But you haven’t even—” you cut him off before he could finish his stupid sentence.

“My orgasm is not nearly as important as making sure I didn’t permanently fuck up your nose. Get dressed, please, I’m going to get you an ice pack for that.” You pointed to the centre of his face.

He made a pouty noise but complied nonetheless, tugging some tissues out from the bedside table to absorb the blood running down his face.

You walked to the freezer, pulling out the cold compress. When you made your way back into the room you found a fully dressed Aegon who looked like the cat who ate the canary. You stood in front of him pushing the compress delicately against his nose. “What’s got you so excited all of a sudden?”

He smirk became wider. “Just thinking about how proud my mums will be when I tell them how I broke my nose.”

Your cheeks heated at his words. The image of his mothers mortified faces as he explains to them in detail how his injuries were caused entering your mind. “You’re not funny.”

“Oh I’m quite serious, they’ll be happier than when they found out I actually managed to get into a university without bribing anyone.”

You found out just how genuine he was being a couple days later when he dialed them up on speaker phone for you to hear.

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii fanfic #modern aegon #modern!aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen blurb #aegon imagine #hotd smut #house of the dragon smut #cjs.drabbles #cjs.library

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iamtired10 · 25 days ago

Text

out of focus

pairing - ??? x female reader x ???

synopsis - you have two sides to run from, but both are dangerous.

genre - yandere, stalker fic. nothing cute here

warnings - stalking, death threats, extreme, blood, idk, idk², cliffhanger ending, strong language, reader being dumbass, sorry to hyein, pt. 2 coming soon.

word count - 2.6k

a/n - lame-ass fic, im illiterate, my dark romance era is back!! imma write more yandere fics❤️

the first message had unsettled you, but you’d shrugged it off as a minor, albeit eerie, incident.

an unknown number had texted something vague and unsettling:

i’m watching you.

it seemed like the kind of thing you'd hear in some horror movie, but reality?

that felt unlikely.

it could have been a prank—a bored teenager with too much time on their hands or someone testing a spam bot. you rolled your eyes at the thought and went about your day.

but the messages didn’t stop.

in fact, they grew more frequent, more specific.

at first they were merely creepy—just enough to make you glance over your shoulder, but nothing that couldn’t be brushed off.

however as time passed, the texts grew far too detailed.

someone out there knew things no one should know: the exact time you left for uni every morning, what you were wearing, even the tiny, unnoticed things, like how you tapped your fingers on the counter when you were anxious or the way you hummed under your breath when you were deep in thought.

and then came the photo.

the one that made your skin crawl.

it was of you—sitting alone in your room.

the image had been taken from outside, through your window, the angle unmistakably clear.

whoever was sending these messages wasn’t just toying with you from a distance anymore.

they were close.

so close you could almost feel their eyes on you.

you tried to make sense of it, but there was no logic to be found.

every message came from a different number, each with a distinct tone.

some were desperate, almost pleading, demanding your attention with phrases like

why r u ignoring me? i just want to talk.

those ones felt needy, like a strange, twisted longing.

others, however were chillingly emotionless.

u need to be more careful.

those messages felt more like warnings, threats whispered in the dark.

cold, detached, and calculating.

it felt like you were caught between two different people.

one seemed desperate to get close to you; the other wanted you to protect you.

maybe it was just one person.

maybe they had split personalities, switching between obsession and cruelty. or maybe this was a sick game, a test to see how far they could push you, how much fear they could instill.

despite the growing dread, you tried to ignore it.

life continued, even as the dark presence lingered in the background of your mind.

your best friend, hanni, had been the only person you confided in.

she had always been your rock, grounding you when the weight of the situation became too heavy to bear.

when you told her, she didn’t hesitate. “i’m staying over,” she had said, her tone firm, no room for protest. “you’re not going through this alone.”

and for a little while, with hanni there, you’d managed to convince yourself that things were going to be okay.

but now, hanni had too much on her plate.

you didn’t want to burden her further, so when your other friend, hyein, invited you over for a sleepover, you agreed.

maybe a change of scenery would help.

maybe being at hyein's place would give you the distance you needed to think clearly.

you leaned against the cold metal wall of the elevator, the phone pressed to your ear. “i’ll be there in about 30 minutes,” you said, forcing your voice to sound light, normal.

hyein had picked up on it, though. “unnie, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

“yeah, i just haven’t been sleeping well,” you lied. “i’m looking forward to tonight.”

she didn’t push further, and you hung up, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

just as you slipped your phone into your bag, it buzzed again.

you froze.

unknown number [+82 67 3573 2345]

dont leave ur house

your heart skipped a beat.

it was that unknown number again.

the familiar sense of unease crept up your spine.

a second message quickly followed. . .

unknown number [+82 67 3573 2345]

if u leave, u’ll regret it

a threat. this was a threat, wasn’t it?

your pulse quickened, and your hand trembled slightly as you clutched your phone.

did they know where you were going?

how close were they?

were they watching you right now?

the elevator dinged as it came to a stop on the ground floor, but your feet felt glued to the floor. your mind raced, spiraling into a storm of questions and panic.

should you go back to your apartment? but what if going back gave them more power, made them think they could control you?

what if tomorrow you received another message, telling you not to leave again?

how long could you play by their rules?

but then what if ignoring them was worse?

what if disobeying meant they’d escalate?

you stepped out of the elevator, the chilly evening air hitting your skin.

the world around you seemed oblivious to the terror that had taken root in your life. people passed by, chatting and laughing, completely unaware of the invisible danger lurking around you.

your phone buzzed again. this time, it was hyein.

hye🐣👶🏻

see you soon right?

be careful on the way unnie (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

you stared at the message for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you.

if you went to hyein’s place, maybe you could escape the immediate threat.

after all, the stalker hadn’t done anything physical yet…

but how long until that changed?

you slipped your phone back into your backpack after finishing the text exchange with hyein.

just as you were adjusting the straps on your shoulders, you suddenly bumped into someone. the impact was light, but it was enough to knock the other person off balance, sending them crashing to the ground.

“shi—! i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to—” you started apologizing hastily, looking down at the person who had fallen. your words trailed off when you realized who it was.

“oh… hey, haerin-ssi.”

it was kang haerin, a junior at your university.

you had crossed paths with her before—usually in the library, where she often sat alone, nose buried in a book. your classmates had often teased you, claiming the quiet, cat-eyed girl had a crush on you. you’d noticed her occasional shy glances, but you always brushed off the idea. still, there was something about the way she quietly observed you that made you feel… watched.

“hey, sunbae-nim…” haerin’s voice was barely above a whisper. she had her hood up, almost like she was trying to hide.

she seemed to be in a hurry, her posture tense.

your eyes darted to her phone, which had slipped from her hand during the fall. “oh, let me grab that for you," you offered, kneeling down to pick it up.

but just as your fingers brushed the edge of the phone, haerin's hand shot out, grabbing it before you could. “no!! i can get it myself...” she blurted out, her voice suddenly panicked.

you blinked in surprise.

this was the first time you'd seen her react like that—so flustered, so defensive.

you stood up slowly, eyebrows raised. “uh, okay, but i heard the screen crack. you sure it’s not broken?”

haerin stood up quickly, clutching her phone tightly. “you don’t need to worry about that, sunbae-nim,” she muttered, her gaze avoiding yours.

before you could say anything else, she brushed past you, her shoulder bumping into yours as she hurried away.

you tilted your head, watching her rush off in confusion. “weird…” you muttered under your breath. “what’s she hiding on that phone?”

you shook your head, her sudden panic almost… cute, in a way.

later that evening, you were sprawled on Hyein’s couch, half-watching a movie.

or at least, hyein was watching.

your mind had checked out long ago.

every few minutes, your phone would vibrate in your lap, each buzz pulling you further away from the screen and deeper into a pit of anxiety.

then, a new message appeared, and your stomach dropped as you read it:

unknown number [+82 78 3573 1638]

darling my darling

u're going to regret what u've done

i told u not to leave last night

but look at u, out having fun with that kid

watching a movie like nothing’s wrong

you blinked at the screen, then quickly locked your phone, shoving it into your hoodie pocket.

“unnie, anything wrong?” hyein asked, turning her attention away from the movie to look at you.

“yeah, it’s fine,” you lied, glancing away. “just the stalker sending me another love notes, as usual.” you sighed heavily.

you had reported the stalker to the police, but they’d been no help. whoever this was, they were too good at covering their tracks.

changing numbers constantly, sending messages from random places—it was like they were a ghost, slipping through every crack and loophole in the system.

the police couldn’t pin them down, and it left you feeling trapped, helpless.

another vibration.

unknown number [+82 78 3573 1638]

r u u still ignoring me huh?

r u really having that much fun w her?

w that lee hyein?

is she that much better than me?

what r u going to do next?

sleep w her? w a kid? ㅋㅋㅋ

huh is that it?

this one was different.

more direct. more cruel.

the words cut deep, and something inside you snapped.

enough was enough.

you quickly typed back, your fingers flying across the screen:

stop messaging me

she's a hundred times better than u.

u’re just a pathetic loser who doesn’t have the guts to face me in person.

and dont u dare think about her again

you hit block for what felt like the hundredth time.

but even as the message disappeared, you knew it was only a matter of time before another number popped up, and the cycle would start all over again.

no matter how many numbers you blocked, the stalker always seemed to have infinite patience.

more patience than you, that was for sure.

you stared at your phone, frustration bubbling up inside you.

how long could this go on?

how long before they stopped playing games

and did something worse?

and it had gotten worse.

much worse than you could have ever imagined.

you hated yourself for going to hyein’s house that day.

every terrible thing that had happened to her was because of you.

the guilt gnawed at you like a beast with no mercy.

you stared at hyein, lying in the hospital bed, still unconscious.

her ankle was broken, a bandage wrapped around her head.

the doctor said she was lucky to be alive, but you couldn’t shake the words that haunted you:

unknown number [+82 90 5874 3663]

got a surprise for u, my love.

u're going to like it.

go to the gymnastics building.

i love u. so much

that’s where you found her.

hyein, crumpled at the bottom of the staircase, blood pooling beneath her.

someone—your stalker—had pushed her down the stairs.

the sight of her lying there, so still, so vulnerable, was burned into your memory.

and then the next message arrived.

unknown number [+82 90 5874 3663]

told u to stay away from her

but you didn’t listen

she’s lucky she’s not dead.

but the sound of her skull cracking was loud enough to satisfy me ㅋㅋㅋ

anyway i love u, my darling.

remember this is just a little showcase. i can do worse than that

all of this... it was because of you.

you couldn’t forgive yourself.

the guilt was unbearable, consuming you from the inside out.

mrs. lee’s sobs echoed in your ears as she clung to hyein’s brother in the waiting room.

the grief in their eyes was too much.

they loved her like you did, but they didn’t know the truth—their daughter, their sister, was in this hospital because of you.

you bit back your own tears, but they came anyway, spilling down your cheeks.

hyein had always been like a little sister to you, someone you wanted to protect. now she was hurt, possibly broken, because of you.

the thought of her dying because of your choices was like a knife twisting in your chest.

the stalker had done this.

and they could do worse.

much worse.

the only sliver of relief was that hyein was stable, though she hadn’t regained consciousness yet.

but you didn’t know if the stalker would come after her again.

that thought paralyzed you.

“it’s okay…” hanni’s voice broke through the fog of your mind.

she was sitting beside you, pulling you into her arms.

her hug was warm, firm, as she rubbed your back gently. “she’s going to be fine. don’t worry. she’ll be okay.”

her words were soothing, but they didn’t reach the gnawing fear inside you. “i’m here, okay? no one’s going to hurt you again. the police are here. we’re all here for you. you’ve got me. it’s going to be alright,” hanni whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as you collapsed into her, sobbing into her chest.

“h-han, i’m so scared…” you stuttered, your voice broken. “why is this happening? why can’t they just leave us alone? why can’t they leave me alone? what do they want from me?”

hanni held you tighter, her voice low and serious. “love…,” she murmured.

you blinked and looked up at her, confused. “h-huh?”

she sighed, then met your eyes. “i mean... they’re obsessed with you. they want your attention, maybe more. maybe love. i don’t know... but let’s not think too much about it right now, okay? just focus on being here. on being safe.”

you swallowed hard, nodding as you let out a shaky breath. “o-okay…”

just then, minji’s voice interrupted the quiet moment. “are you guys leaving soon?”

she stood at the door, her eyes flicking between you and hanni.

you tried to pull away from hanni’s embrace, but she held on tighter.

“no—” you started, but hanni cut her off.

“yeah, i think y/n needs rest,” hanni said firmly, smiling softly as her hand continued to rub soothing circles on your back. “she was awake all night, and she’s exhausted.”

you shook your head. “but i need to stay for hye—”

“she has her brother and minji. doctors, nurses, and the police are here to protect her,” hanni interrupted gently. “you were here all night, y/n. you didn’t sleep. you need rest.”

you wanted to argue, but you were so tired.

the exhaustion hit you all at once, like a wave crashing down. you sighed in defeat.

minji nodded. “okay. i’ll keep you updated when she wakes up or if anything happens. and if you need anything, call me. do you want a police officer with you for protection?”

before you could respond, hanni spoke up confidently. “no, i’ll be with y/n. the stalker can’t do anything to her while i’m there.”

minji raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “alright. . . just let me know if you need anything.”

she gave you both a lingering look before walking away.

hanni finally let go of you and stood up. “i’ll grab your backpack. don’t move, okay?”

you nodded as you watched her walk off, the quiet hum of the hospital surrounding you.

nurses bustled about, doctors talked in low voices with patients, and the distant sound of machines beeped steadily in the background.

it all felt surreal, like the world was moving on while you were stuck in this nightmare.

and then your phone buzzed.

your heart stopped as you hesitantly pulled it out of your pocket.

you glanced down at the screen, and your blood ran cold.

unknown number [+82 67 3573 2345]

is typing. . .

dont go to her house

a/n - fell asleep while writing it -_-

my brain, butt, back, neck, fingers hurts 😣

#newjeans #new jeans x reader #fluff #fanfiction #oneshot #hanni x reader #haerin x reader #hyein x reader #minji x reader #x female reader #yandere #stalker

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k3igol0ve · 5 months ago

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RELENTLESS TEASING. - KEIGO T. DRABBLE .ᐟ

Hawks | Keigo is the type to relentlessly annoy and tease you, it could be in the middle of the day and he would be messaging you until a response is heard from you. It doesn't help that it ends up with you being irritated with him.

This avian headed hero craves attention, he would gladly annoy you to wit's end just to get to you. Your phone would be BLARING with notifications in the middle of the day, just because he's unable to see you. It's quite unironically similar to a bird non-stop chirping just to get a fraction of your attention.

When you finally respond, he is met with nothing short of an annoyed response, quite frankly you were in a meeting; an important one at Endeavour's agency. Imagine the hot headed hero death staring at your phone, a silent threat to silence it.

With haste, you had responded, typing out a quick message without double checking. "SJUT UP". I shit you not, this guy would repeat your mistake over and over. When you finally find the time to reprimand him for his disturbance, he continues spamming "SJUT."

Naturally, this guy is a big tease and irritates you any chance he gets. A simple typo? It'll be remembered for the next week or so. This leads to incredulous petty arguments, though ALMOST never serious and lighthearted.

Curse his memory, and curse his storage. He'd dare to use your old screenshots, with out of context material or simple typos just to get back at you. Adding fuel to the fire, he'd add that one INFURIATING gif that never fails to mess with your last nerve for him with "This you??"

It does get heated, because the day he chose to mess with you was a particularly bad day where your patience was thinner than a thread in a needle. He was met with a simple response, the reward that he sowed for his constant irritation; "I hate you."

He gets way more harder to deal with, and he responds very typically (and rather cliche) with 'I love you too.' before choking down a laugh. He continues teasing you, but when that cursed " :( " pops up into his notifications. He's the first to apologise, that emoticon had never failed you; the sadness in that singular emoticon was almost unbearable to him making him sympathise and pity you, well until you laugh at him in return.

Though, when it really does get heated to the point you'd ignore him you'd best bet you'd see him; he physically cannot live an hour without contacting you. [Clingy ass bird...] No less than 10 minutes he's at your balcony window knocking on the glass with your favourite snacks almost begging for forgiveness at your reluctance to allow him in. If there's enough mist and condensation on the window, he'd even draw a very pitiful sad face on it. He would have to BEG for your forgiveness, and obviously you'd relent because who could deny him? All pouty, crimson wings drooped behind him as the rain poured down onto him almost sorrowfully, it was almost a laughable sight.

When you finally let him in, he's automatically latched himself onto you despite how drenched in the rain he was. How cruel you were, ignoring him for a mere total of 3 hours. He'd wrapped his arms tightly around you, refusing to let go while you urged him to change out of his clothes before he got sick. You'd even offer to dry his hair and wings for him. He won this time, making you in turn feel sympathy for him. The gif in question:

[I DESPISE that gif.]

#keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #mha hawks #takami keigo #mha fluff #fluff #bnha x reader #keigo takami imagine

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stevesjockstrap · 30 days ago

Text

kinktober 3: Steve/Eddie & voice kink

Rated E • no UD, modern era, sex worker Eddie, phone sex, slight feminization, dom!Eddie (no one’s surprised)

For @lawrencebshoggoth 😘😏

Steve was grocery shopping, trying to decide what he wants to meal prep for the week. When a warm sensation floods his belly, his dick hardening in his slacks. The fuck?

Searching around him, he can’t figure out what is happening. Why is his body reacting like this to salad?

A voice from the next aisle finally registers to him.

“No, Chrissy! I’m not letting you set up my uncle with random women for your sick amusement!”

At first he can’t place the voice, but his now fully hard dick knows it instantly.

“Oh fuck,” Steve mumbles. He leaves his cart and races to the front door before he’s aware of what he’s doing.

In his beemer, he takes deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and the throbbing between his legs.

It had started as a misclick on his favorite site, a happy accident. Steve had never ventured into spicy audios before, but soon he was addicted and the velvety voice of PuppetMaster was his go-to way of getting off.

The knowledge that this person who had become one of his only sexual fantasies was out there and close by had Steve feeling ashamed yet unbelievably turned on. He took a paid day from work and spent a lot of time … taking care of himself.

“That’s it, baby. Look so good all spread out for me. Oh, fuck,” the strangers deep voice rolled across him as he fucked into his fist.

It felt more dirty now, the humiliation factor ratcheting up as he listened. The fact that there was a real person to complete the fantasy made it even more tantalizing.

He couldn’t even tell anyone about it. At work he felt like his skin was too tight, the lights too bright.

After a very long week, Steve didn’t know what to do. He felt like he was going to shake out of his skin. The audios weren’t enough anymore. His brain cycled through versions of the man speaking, but couldn’t land on one. He would get so obsessed about trying to think of a face that he couldn’t finish.

A few beers later, Steve found himself blindly searching the name online.

He almost dropped his phone when a TikTok account popped up.

This definitely didn’t help matters. But his dick was back on board. The man was beautiful, much more so than his meager imagination could come up with. The long wavy hair, big brown eyes. His lips.

He’d snuck his hand down before he realized. Then he froze. Was this too far? Jerking it to this stranger’s social media?

There weren’t a lot of videos, and he was irritated to find that the man wasn’t using his own voice, mostly lip syncing popular sounds. Scrolling down, his thumb found an earlier video. It was a comical thirst trap set up, but the way the man’s arms came up to grab the top of the doorframe showing off his tattooed biceps and ribs, the way his eyes darkened as he swept his gaze down the camera made his breath catch.

Steve let the video loop until he came twice.

Then a message slid down from the top of the page. With the man’s tiny circle face.

Hey there

Oh no. How had this happened?

He swiped back to the video and realized not only had he followed the page, in his exuberance he’d spammed that video with emojis.

It occurred to him that he could just ignore it. Delete the message, his account, the app, never have to think about this again.

But his stupid dick had him going back to the man’s page. His profile didn’t give much information. But there was a link.

“Holy shit,” Steve gasped as the page loaded.

He had never allowed himself to explore OnlyFans, given his track record with this new addiction. He didn’t understand most of the jargon he was skimming over, but it hit him that there was an untapped treasure trove of content from this man who had been the source of all of his recent orgasms.

He subscribed and didn’t blink at whatever dollar amount was charged.

Then he got a second message.

PuppetMaster: You work fast, pretty

His brain helpfully supplied the voice and the face to go along with it and his dick stirred. The way this stranger had overhauled his body should be concerning. But all he could do now was go along with it.

Steve clicked on the notification and tried to come up with something to say.

PuppetMaster: Oh, now he’s shy

PuppetMaster: I don’t want to scare you away

He gulped, then started typing.

SteveH1102: You’re not going to scare me away. But I might scare you

PuppetMaster: Oh?

PuppetMaster: Cute little thing like you? I doubt it

Steve smiled in spite of himself.

SteveH1102: I’ve, let’s say, enjoyed your work that I’ve found elsewhere but just discovered your actual page

His heart was beating so fast, his anxious energy didn’t allow him to keep laying across his couch. He got up to pace around his apartment.

PuppetMaster: Well that’s not scary. I’m glad you found your way to me

“Christ,” Steve whispered.

SteveH1102: The thing is, you aren’t from around Indianapolis, are you?

There was a longer pause between messages now, and he was waiting for some notification that he was blocked or otherwise in trouble. He grabbed another beer from the fridge and drank half of it in a long pull.

PuppetMaster: Maybe I didn't give you enough credit, handsome. That would send chills up anyone’s spine

SteveH1102: I’m sorry, I probably could’ve worded it better. I’m sort of drinking. I’m pretty sure I overheard you on the phone at the grocery store and well, recognized your voice

A thought popped into his head. Without allowing the man to respond, he started typing again.

SteveH1102: This is actually you, right? Not like an assistant or like a catfish situation?

PuppetMaster: It’s all me, baby. It’s cute you think I’m big enough to have outsourced my porn site

SteveH1102: Could we video call?

He blinked as he realized he sent it. Counted to thirty and still didn’t have a response.

SteveH1102: I’d pay for your time, or however this works. Of course

There was a pop-up requiring some more details from him and a payment that he quickly clicked through.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve breathed as he stared at the live video. The other man was smart enough to throw a light on, and was either on a computer or had turned his phone sideways.

“Same to you. Your profile picture doesn’t do you justice.”

It was definitely him, and getting to watch the voice he’d become addicted to come from those lips made chills travel down his body.

Steve huffed a laugh, walking quickly back over to his couch next to the only lamp that was on. When he’d dropped down onto a rough throw pillow he also remembered he’d taken his shirt off.

“You gunna give me a show, handsome? Getting comfy?”

Steve tried to bite back the moan that escaped, he really did. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea after all.

“Why not? I’m having fun.”

He gaped at the smirk across the beautiful face and winced as he realized he’d spoken that aloud.

“Convinced it’s me, yet? Are you going to tell me what you were thinking when you put all kinds of heart eyes on my TikTok?”

Steve knew this teasing commanding tone and wasn’t surprised when his cock started filling again.

“I didn’t mean to, ma- um, it was a mistake. I was-”

He received a low growl and a full mischievous grin.

“It’s Eddie, by the way. But you can call me master if you want. I’ll let you know if you do anything I don’t like, and I’d appreciate if you’d do the same.”

“Oh my god.” Steve felt way too in over his head to have this conversation.

“So your hand just slipped,” Eddie continued, ignoring him. There was a low chuckle, and his face got bigger in the screen. “Were you doing something naughty, pretty boy?”

Steve whined and his hips jolted on their own accord.

“I think that’s a yes, then. Is there somewhere you can prop your phone up, Stevie? So I can see you better? And you don’t have to hold it?”

He blinked, unsure of what was happening, but then searched around quickly. He set his beer bottle down on the coffee table and stuck his phone in front of it. It was a bit of an awkward angle, but Eddie hummed at him.

“There’s a good boy. Still got your work pants on? Came home all stressed and decided to come look for me?”

He dug his fingers into his thighs to keep from dipping his hand into his pants.

“E-eddie,” he gasped.

Eddie clicked his tongue at him. “Now, now, pretty. We both know that’s not what you want to call me. Go ahead, try again.”

Steve had a silent war with himself while they stared at each other.

“Or we could talk about the weather, or music or whatever,” Eddie teased.

He giggled, and his mouth betrayed him again. “I would probably get off just from that anyways.”

Eddie’s face brightened and he laughed, low and filthy. “Oh yeah? Maybe we’ll try that sometime. C’mon, show me. Let me see you.”

He groaned, covering his face instead.

“Don’t you dare.” Eddie’s hardened voice had him moving his hands instantly. “What a good boy you are for me. Now, I’m sure you wanna come as much as I do- uh huh, now we’ve got his attention. Slide those expensive pants down.”

Steve swallowed hard, raising his hips as he wiggled out of his slacks.

Eddie yanked his shirt off quickly, like he wasn’t willing to miss a second of Steve. It sent an even more powerful wave of warmth through him. He was lightly muscled, but most of his chest and arms were covered with dark ink. Steve wanted to lick every inch.

“Please,” he whined.

“I know, baby. We’re getting there. You look so good, all desperate and writhing.”

It was so close to his favorite audios that he gasped.

“Ohhh, so that’s what you’ve been enjoying, Stevie? Those do seem to get spread far and wide. Speaking of… why don’t you lose your panties, honey. Let me see all of you.”

The word panties almost had him coming already, the humiliation burning in his belly. Biting his lip, he pulled the waistband of his briefs down, quickly leaning back at Eddie’s snapped fingers when he blocked the camera.

“Well, big boy, now what should we do about that?”

His dick was, predictably, hard and dripping. Again. He would’ve been impressed by his refraction period if he wasn’t literally following directions from this sex god.

Steve couldn’t speak as he realized Eddie had also stripped, but he was keeping below his belly button out of camera view as his hand moved.

“Really glad you found me tonight, pretty boy. Look at you,” Eddie purred.

He couldn’t keep his hand from sliding down his length, and the deep groan that burst out from him.

Neither of them said anything as they soaked in the view and each other’s noises, but Steve couldn’t hold back the whine at Eddie’s growled, “Hands off.”

His dick twitched against his belly as he stared almost unseeingly at his phone. Eddie still kept his own hands and dick out of view. He was suddenly more desperate to see Eddie’s hands working himself over than coming.

“Please,” he croaked. “Eddie- I need-”

“You can wait,” Eddie responded coolly.

“No, please. Can I see you? Wanna see your cock!”

The moan from his phone made him shiver, but he wasn’t prepared for the sinful look that spread across Eddie’s face.

“Oh yeah? More than you want to touch yourself?”

Steve whimpered but nodded.

“You’re so precious, Stevie. Say it again.”

The order made more precome slide down his dick and he clenched his hands in the cushion under him. “Please let me see you, Eds? Please?”

Eddie reached up and did something to make the angle different. “Such nice begging, baby.”

He licked his lips unconsciously, thinking about how full his mouth would be with that thick cock shoved into it.

“Gods, your mouth, Stevie. I stared so hard at those lips in your picture. They’d look so good stretched around me.”

Eddie was apparently a talker, while Steve only managed to whimper and try to keep his hands away from his persistent problem.

“Being so good for me, pretty. I want to bite those moles on your thigh. No, don’t hide. You’re fucking delicious, Stevie.”

Eddie’s hand quickened, twisting around the head. “You want my come so bad, don’t you slut?”

He could only whine and nod, sliding further down the couch as if he could get physically closer for him.

“Want it in your mouth? Or across your tits?”

Steve gasped and closed his eyes against the burn of humiliation that almost had him coming apart.

Eddie hummed. “Yeah, rub it into your chest hair and down to your pretty cock.”

He opened his eyes in time to watch Eddie grunt, mesmerized as his muscles bunched and he threw his head back as he came hard. His head shot up at Steve’s small, “Oh, oh, oh fuck!”

He’d never come untouched before.

Gasping, rocking through the aftershocks as he came down, he nervously looked back at Eddie. The look of pure want and fire in his eyes made him groan softly.

“So, Stevie, what was it you said about living in the area?”

#kinktober #steddie #stranger things smut #dom eddie munson #mine #stranger things fic

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