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jihyoruri · 3 months ago

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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY kim chaewon x reader

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, read these three parts before this one if you haven’t already, getting glimpse into yn, chaewon is chaewon…, mentions of weight & throwing up, yn’s family (a real warning fr), pre debut stuff

yn knew who she was from a very young age.

she came from an old money family, the moon family, but it wasn’t just any old money—it was wealth built over generations of hard work, or so her father would tell her.

her family was extremely important, involved in almost every major company in korea. they held a high status and were regarded with the utmost respect, held to the highest standards imaginable.

and oh was that standard installed in yn.

the numbers four, ten, fourteen, sixteen, eighteen and nineteen is something that yn will always remember for six important reasons. It's likely the reason she is who she is today.

age four is the last time yn remembers really crying.

she probably cried before that, but she obviously didn’t have the memory to recall those times.

ever since she was born, she remembers being in her father’s arms, never her mother’s. her father took care of her along with her brothers.

yn knew her father wasn’t the best man, but he wasn’t the worst. at least he acknowledged all three of his children. while he definitely paid more attention to her brothers, he still looked after her.

her mother, though, never acknowledged her. even when yn was a little baby, her mother’s focus was always on her boys.

both parents’ attention was always on the boys—they were the future of the family, the men of the family. at least her father made a little bit of effort when it came to yn.

at age four, yn was at the age where all she wanted to do was play outside, winter had fallen and disappeared and it was finally getting warmer outside, so it was the perfect opportunity to go play outside.

she asked her dad to accompany her but he was getting ready for a meeting.

“go play out front,” he said patting her head, “it’s beside my window, so I’ll be able to see you, the gate is locked so it should be safe, it’s big enough for you to run around, just watch out for the flowers, the maid planted them yesterday.”

yn excitedly ran out of her father's office, dashed down the large marble steps, and headed for the front door, but not without bumping into one of her older brothers.

“where you are going?” daeun asked his sister.

"outside! dad said I can play out front," she replied eagerly.

the ten year old clicked his tongue and shook his head. "lucky you. after jae’s done getting ready with mom, I'm next." he was about to remind her that the whole family had dress fittings today for the ball they were hosting, but she was already out the door.

yn basked in the sunlight as she ran out front, rolling in the grass and sprinting on the concrete.

suddenly, her foot slipped, causing her to fall and hit her knee on one of the decorative stones. blood started to paint the stone red

yn let out the loudest cry imaginable, clutching her knee, not even caring about the blood on her hands.

“yn!”

yn looked up, she furrowed her eyebrows confused to see her mother running towards her and not her father.

“oh my- what happened?!” the woman asked kneeling in front of her daughter.

“I was running and tripped.” yn sniffed as her mom lifted her up, she wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders leaning her head down, “where’s daddy? I need him to look at my knee.”

“he’s in his meeting,” the woman informed the crying girl, “I’ll look at your cut.”

“but he always looks at them! do you know how to look at mine?”

the woman patted her daughters back as they made their way inside the big house, “I look at your brothers all the time, let me patch you up and then get you ready for the dress fitting.”

instead of arguing more yn just sniffled tightening her grip on her mother who walked further into the house.

“we also can’t be crying like this anymore yn, we don’t do that here.”

age four is also the first and last time yn remembers being held by her mother.

it was also the last time she remembers fully crying.

age four the standard was officially introduced to her.

yn thanked her father as he passed her a second piece of bread. "jae, pass me the butter, please."

"you're having another piece of bread?" her brother asked with a grin. "slow down on the carbs, yn."

"pass your sister the butter," their father said sternly. jae immediately quieted his laughter and slid the butter over to yn.

daeun gave jae hard nudge, “leave yn alone it’s not her fault she’s menstruating.”

yn's mouth dropped open as her brothers laughed. She looked at her mother with a betrayed expression. "you told them?"

"I had to," her mother shrugged, cutting the beef on her plate. "they might have been concerned about why you're eating so much."

yn pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek. ehen she realized she was having her first period, she wanted to go to her dad, but what could he do? she knew she had to go to her mother, even if it made her uncomfortable

“yn is always eating though, especially this year.” jae said, “even the maid brings her snacks.”

“always snacking and writing those poems.”

"can you shut up, lardass?" yn snapped, getting ready to lunge over the large dinner table.

"leave your sister alone," their father said, taking a sip of his wine.

silence fills the table for their mother speaks up, “actually yn, I got your dress in a size four.”

yn looked up from her now abandoned bread confused, “size four? I’m a size eight though.”

“I know.” her mom shrugs, “I feel like you can be a little smaller, it would make you look attractive.”

“why does my ten year old sister need to be attractive?” daeun asked in a joking manner.

“you know what I mean.” their mother said before looking at yn, “you need to slim down a little honey, cut out some things.”

“can you two talk about this on your little girl hangouts.” jae cut in.

yn scoffed, “what girl hangouts.” she muttered to herself, her mother barely talks to her much less have girl hangouts, “may I be excused?” she looked at her father who nodded his head.

“where are you going?”

“the washroom.”

it had been two months since that dinner, yn stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom. her size four dress fitting perfectly.

“see,” her mother started, “you look so beautiful, size four is the size for you, I’m glad you took my advice on cutting out some food.”

yn stayed silent just look at herself in the mirror, she looked up at the ceiling as she felt the back of her eyes start the burn, the water threatening to spill out.

“are still sick?” she turned to look at jae and daeun who entered the room that their mother had exited.

“she was sick?” daeun asked look at his younger sister who sat her vanity, looking through her expensive perfumes.

“yeah for like the past two months.” jae said, “sometimes after dinner I would hear her throw up like crazy in the washroom.”

daeun raised his brow at yn who barley acknowledged jae’s words.

“can you guys tell dad I’ll be downstairs in a second.”

"Sure," jae said, tugging daeun along with him. daeun looked back at yn before shaking his head and following Jae out of the room. along with him.

there’s a reason yn will always remember the age ten.

XIV

the starting of age fourteen was weird for yn.

jae was eighteen and daeun was twenty , they were barely in the house these days cause they were making their way through training for the family name, they were slowly becoming more and more important to the family business.

while yn was stuck at in the big mansion she called home, her father was also out of the house, always at meetings and press conferences and if the boys are out the house her mother is also out the house.

so yn was really alone.

and she wanted out.

she was tired of the same routine, waking up, going to school, coming home, sleeping.

she laid on her big pink bed, humming along to the lyrics of hoot by girls generation that came from her cd player, she owned every album from the girl group.

yn loved music, she loved the singing, dancing and rapping, she could totally see her self doing that for living.

wait…

isn’t sm entertainment holding auditions…

today.

she jumped up from her bed and and ran down the marble steps of her house while she called her dad.

“hey daddy! I’m going out, where? oh nothing just want to get some fresh air, I won’t leave the gated community I promise.”

she knew if she called the chauffeur to drive her, he would tell her dad. yn huffed as she adjusted her skirt and her pink chanel sweater. she slipped on her Mary janes and turned off her phone.

she was going to have to make a run for it.

yn has never ran like this in her life, her father would kill her if he found out she was doing this but it felt so right.

she ran and ran until she was right in front of the recognizable building, sm entertainment.

she walked in to see a woman standing there with a paper in her hand, she look at yn and raised a brow, “hi! are you hear for auditions?”

“yes,” yn nodded her head, adjusting her sweater, “yes, I am.”

the woman scanned yn’s expensive attire, “really?”

“yes.” yn stated firmly, she could sense the woman’s thoughts, and if there’s one thing her father has always thought her, is to not let people underestimate you, she was above them. “is there a problem?”

yn adjusted her sweater even more, showing off the costum family crest that was sown into her sweater, causing the woman’s eyes the widen.

“oh nothing, the audition rooms is down this way.” the woman says gesturing down the hall, yn’s stern face melted into a kinda smile.

“thank you.” she said before walking down the hall.

as she walked she saw a line of people leaning on the wall beside the room.

yn made her way to join the line, standing beside a girl with bangs.

the girl looked at yn and smiled, “are you nervous?”

“this was kinda a rushed idea, so I don’t know how I feel yet.” yn said looking down at her mary jane’s.

the girl laughed and scanned over yn, “hey what’s up that that logo thing, I’ve seen it everywhere since i’ve been in korea.”

yn looked at the crest, “oh, it’s my family crest.”

“that’s cool, so your family is pretty big huh?”

“I guess who can say that,” yn said before looking at the backpack the girl had, “can you actually do me a favour.”

“depends on the favour.”

“can I put my sweater in your bag? and take it out after the auditions.”

“sure!”

yn unzipped her sweater while the girl opened her bag and stuffed it inside, “thank you so much.”

“no problem.” the girl says before looking at the shirt, “ I like your shirt.”

“thanks, it’s miumiu.”

“that sounds expensive, I’m yizhuo.”

“I’m yn.”

“good luck yn.”

“good luck to you too yizhuo.”

the girls stood in line for about an hour, yn listened to yizhuo talk off her ear about if they both made it into sm all the way until it yizhuo‘s turn.

yn looked at the time on her watch, her family wouldn’t be home for another couple hours, she should be able to get home on time , hopefully.

she watched as yizhuo walked out the room with a smile on her face, mouthing a good luck.

if they weren’t there before the nerves were definitely catching up to yn now, she took a deep breath and walked into the room to see three adults sitting.

she gave them a charming smile and stood in front of them.

“hello.” the woman out of the three said to the younger girl with a smile, “state your name and age.”

“I’m moon yn.” yn looks at the three adults, they were scanning her face as if they were trying to figure her out, “and I’m fourteen years old.”

“okay yn, what’s your specialty?” one of the men ask, looking the girls mary jane’s, how is she gonna dance in those?

“uh…” yn didn’t even know what to say, this was definitely an impulse decision on her end.

“always snacking and writing those poems”

“rap.” she states causing the three to raise their brows in surprise, obviously not expecting the girl decked out in pink to say that, “I love rapping.” she lied.

“show us you skills.” the woman said causing yn to mentally curse herself.

she looked deep into the back of her mind to find one of her writings, shaking off her nerves she recited something she wrote a while ago, her flow becoming better as she went on, trying her best to free style.

as she finished the woman nodded her head impressed, “did you write that yourself?” she asked writing on the paper in front of her.

“yes.”

one of the men hummed nodding his head, “now what song are you performing for us today?”

I guess her days of memorizing and singing girls generation songs and choreography is finally gonna pay off.

“I will be singing into the new world.” yn says shaking out her nerves.

the three nodded their heads surprised, this girl kept surprising them.

“let’s hear you.”

as yn started, all she did was think of the words her family members would tell her, to always show confidence, to show people that you’re better, and that’s what she did.

once she finished, she put her hand on her chest to smooth out her breathing, she can’t believe she just did that, the only time she’s done something like this was in the comfort of her big bedroom.

“thank you yn, you will definitely be hearing back from us.” the woman said to the girl who smiled and thanked them.

yn was about to rush out the room but was stopped by one of the men.

“are you related to the moon family, you look so familiar, like I’ve seen your face on tv.”

yn hesitated, she thought about lying but they would easily search her family up, “yes.” she nodded her head.

all three of them looked even more surprised, but yn had no time for more conversation rushing out the room and bumping into yizhuo, who had yn’s sweater in her hand.

“woah, you’re in a rush.”

“yeah, I have to head home.” yn said taking her sweater from yizhuo’s hand and dragging it on.

“wait can I get your number.” she asked handing yn her phone.

yn rushingly typed out her phone number in the girls phone and rushed out the building.

“it was nice meeting you!” she heard yizhuo yell.

and just like how she got to sm entertainment she got home the same way, she ran miles making her way to the gated community that she called her neighbourhood.

yn was about to make it through her gate, when she heard a familiar sounding car, she immediately ran to the back of the house and climbed the tall fence falling to the ground with a big thud.

she didn’t have time to whine about the pain and ran towards the outdoor stairs that lead to the balcony of her bedroom.

she slide open the clear sliding door and rushed into her room.

she took off her sweater letting out a sigh of relief until she heard foot steps heading towards her room, she threw the sweater across the room and jumped on her bed right on her stomach.

her bedroom door opened to reveal daeun, “dad wants to talk to you.” he said before closing her door.

yn felt a nervous feeling bubbling in her stomach as she got up from her bed and out her bedroom.

it was silent as she went down the stairs to find her father standing at the end of the stairs looking at her with a stern face.

“have a nice walk around the neighborhood?” he looked at yn who laughed nervously.

“yeah I got back an hour ago.” she lied forcing a smile.

“come with me.”

yn nervously followed her father into the dining area where the rest of her family sat staring down at her.

“sit.”

she sat beside jae who side eyed her before looking at their father, she hasn’t had much of an relationship with her brothers now that they’ve have started officially working with the family company.

she could brush of the obvious favouritism towards them when she was younger but as she got older the more she resented her brothers.

her father stood looking at her as she looked down in her lap.

“look at me, we don’t look down.” he said sternly causing yn to snap her head up immediately.

“now tell me why,” he starts, “one of my associates is telling me that they saw my daughter running around the city and entering the sm entertainment building?”

yn winced at the sound of her fathers voice before looking at her mother and brothers that just stare at her waiting for her to talk.

she couldn’t stay silent, if someone is talking to you, you answer them.

“I want to become an idol.” she says quietly, silence fills the air after her words.

“you want to become an idol?” her father asks shocked, why in the world would his daughter want to become an idol, “no, I won’t allow it.”

yn inched up in her chair looking at her father with pleading eyes, “come on dad, just look at it, if I debut and I have a perfect idol image, everyone will praise you for raising such a good daughter and bringing a good image to the family name.”

her father looks at her processing her words the look on his face made her hopeful, “I’ll be the best trainee to exist, I’ll be at the top of everything, I’ll be better than everyone, I’ll show them that the moon family is multi talented and not to be underestimated.”

there’s more silence.

“you’re gonna be at the top of everything, if you aren’t number one of everything I will take you out.” he says looking at yn who couldn’t fight her smile but dropped it immediately.

“thank you.” she replied in a level toned as her father just nodded in response.

“go to your room.”

she rushed out the dinning room and up the stairs to her room, as soon as she closed her door a smile broke onto a big smile.

she heard buzzing from her phone only to see an unknown number.

hey it’s yizhuo, I really hope we get to train together, wanna call rich girl ?

yn couldn’t help but playfully roll her at the nickname before typing out a sure.

she spent the whole night on the phone with yizhuo, she had never talked to a person like how she talked to her, she felt relaxed.

if she gets into sm she really hopes yizhuo gets in as well.

and her hopes came through.

yn squealed on the phone as her and yizhuo opened their letters at the same time, both of them being accepted into sm entertainment, meaning they’ll be training together.

yn will never forget fourteen.

XVI

age sixteen, was a age full of accomplishments and hardships.

she was number one for every single monthly evaluation since she started training at fourteen, living up to her promises she had made to her father.

the compliments that the trainers and senior idols that visited the trainees would say to her felt good, she had grown a passion for the little lie she made in her auditions she loved rapping, it was what she felt comfortable with.

but under all the accomplishments she has had, there was a girl who wanted to burst into tears everyday.

her father really took her words to heart about her being better than everyone, he told the company to make sure yn trained on her own in another practice room, making her isolated from the other trainees.

after a year yizhuo and her stoped texting and calling each other, yn’s head was full of training and being the best that she has barely paid attention to her phone.

she thrived in the praises her father would throw her when she would tell him that she hadn’t slept because she was training so much.

his thats my girls made her feel like she was on top of the word, with her father’s praises she didn’t need friends she didn’t want friends. all she wanted was to make him proud, maybe even have her mother finally notice her.

the other trainees would call her untouchable, and not in a good way she was pretty stuck up in their eyes, with her rich girl mentalities. when she was in the same room as them the aura always shifted she never laughed at jokes, she never cried at harsh feedback, she was always stone cold, when people tried to talk to her she would always say something shady and mean and walk off.

but she somehow came on top every time, even with her in their opinion shitty attitude.

she was like a robot, some of them wondered how she didn’t get tired.

but oh she did.

it was was five am and yn was currently passed out on the practice floor, she had been practicing since the early morning before with zero breaks, she didn’t remember the last time she had eaten anything but that didn’t matter when she was practicing.

voices were heard outside the door but yn didn’t even flinch completely out like a light.

“I never saw her leave yesterday.”

“why do you care yizhuo? didn’t she stop talking to you.”

“yeah but… I’m just worried.”

“is the door locked.”

“I don’t think so.”

“let’s check on her.”

the door creaked open and gasps filled the air, yizhuo and two other trainees jimin and minjeong ran over to yn’s passed out body.

“yn!” yizhuo shaking the girl who could barely open her eyes at the action.

yn tried to open her eyes fully but it was so difficult, she felt yizhuo pull her up to lean against her, “jimin unnie give her your water.”

jimin pulled the water bottle out her backpack and handed it to yizhuo who had to force the water in yn’s mouth since the girl could barely grip anything with how weak she was.

yn leaned against yizhuo as silence filled the air, the three girls looked at her with concern as she attempted to sit up.

“this is humiliating.” yn mumbled to herself as she looked at the three girls with red eyes.

“what happened?” jimin asked looking at the girl that she always thought was at the top of the world who currently looked like she fell off the top of the world.

“I don’t know,” yn said trying her best to keep eye contact with the older girl, “I was practicing and then I wasn’t.”

“you’ve been practicing since yesterday?” minjeong asked the girl shocked, she didn’t have much of an opinion on yn like how the other trainees did, she thought the girl was hard working to be honest, but now maybe a little too hard working, “have you eaten?”

“no, its whatever.”

“it’s not whatever.” yizhuo said looking at yn, “this is crazy yn, you’ve been blowing me off because you’ve been depriving yourself?”

all yn did was lean back onto the girl, exhaustion surrounding her.

“I was wondering how you stayed in shape, I guess the secret is you don’t eat.” minjeong said mindlessly, causing jimin to nudge her.

“hey,” the oldest started, “how about we go to the cafe across the street and get you something to eat, for yizhuo’s sake at least.”

yn looked at the older girl before letting out a sigh, allowing her to pull her off the ground.

jimin had firm grip on yn who could barely stand up as yizhuo and minjeong got off the floor.

“I’m practicing with you in this room for now on.” yizhuo said dusting herself off, “jimin and minjeong unnie are as well now.”

yn side eyed the girl, “I don’t think that’s allowed.”

“I don’t care, right?” yizhuo turned to jimin and minjeong who hesitantly nodded their heads in agreement.

yn stayed silent, looking at jimin In shock when she interlocked her hand with yn and guided her out the door, she barely knew the girl but was already acting so kind.

“I like your bag.” minjeong said to yn as the four of them walked, she picked it up for yn when they left th practice room, “how much was it?”

“actually never mind don’t tell me, It’ll hurt too much.” the girl cut yn off causing the other three to laugh.

yn will never forget sixteen because she acquired three of the most important people in her life at that age, plus another a year.

XVIII

age eighteen was when yn officially thought it was the end of the world.

after letting yizhuo, jimin and minjeong into her life she grew a sense of freedom.

she still worked just as hard as she did at sixteen but this time she had people looking after her, there was also a new addition to the friend group a year later.

yn laughed as aeri took photos of her in the practice room.

the five girls were put into a group together, they were told that they were gonna debut together, yn was just glad that she was debuting and with people she considered her friends.

“no fansite’s please.” yizhuo joked as she stood in front of yn guarding the girl from aeri’s phone, “that’s how we’re gonna act like when we debut.”

“knowing yn she’ll pose for them.” minjeong cut in laughing at the three girls.

“I’m made for the cameras.” yn joked posing for aeri while yizhuo kept blocking her.

“yn your phone is ringing.” jimin cut in on their fun, “I think it’s your dad.”

yn furrowed her eyebrows, why would he be calling her?

she took her phone from jimin’s hands and brought it to her ear, walking out into the hallway, “hey dad.”

“hey honey, I’ve got some news for you.” she couldn’t pin point her father’s tone as he talked, “the company is doing a partnership.”

“that’s good?” yn replied not understanding why her father needed to tell her this, the family barely talked to her about the business, “is that all?”

“no actually, it’s with hybe.” he said into the phone while yn tried her best to understand why he’s telling her this, “okay?”

“meaning you have to leave sm,” he says nonchalantly while yn felt like water had been poured all over her.

her heart was in her stomach, “what?”

“yeah, you’ll be transferred to be a trainee in source music.” he says it like he’s reading off of something, “you’ll be guaranteed a spot in their upcoming new girl group.”

“dad- I’m already in a group- I’m literally debuting in a couple of months.” yn felt like she was gonna throw up, all this hard work, her friends for nothing.

“this is business yn.” her father said sternly, “I can’t have you in company that could be a possible threat to money.”

“but you said, if I stay on top of everything I can stay in sm, I’ve been number one for the post four years almost five years.” she argues, this couldn’t be happened.

“I said you could be an idol if you stay on top of everything, nothing about the company.” her father said.

“dad please.” yn said into the phone her voice cracking.

“are you about to cry?” her father asked sternly, “we don’t do that, stop it.”

“I’m not crying.” yn said looking up, “just this is so unfair, I’ve worked hard.”

“so have I,” her father replied brushing off his daughter’s words, “it’s either you move to hybe or you’re not training anymore.

and with that he hung up.

yn took a deep breath to calm her nerves and opened the practice room door to only be met with four girls staring at her like they’ve seen a ghost.

“did you guys hear anything.” she asked, throwing her head back when they nodded.

“I’m sorry guys, he’s just such-”

“an asshole.” aeri cuts off looking at yn with sad eyes, “so you’re really leaving.”

“I guess I have to, this was just dropped on me out of thin air.” yn trying her best not to burst into tears.

“maybe we can all audition for hybe and become a group there.” minjeong said look at yn who slide down the wall and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“no you guys have worked too hard for that.”

“so have you,” jimin said, “this is so unfair.”

yn shrugged she looked at yizhuo who stared back at her, she could see the tears rushing to the girls eyes.

she smiled weakly at yizhuo who rushed to her side and bursted into tears, “this is so unfair, we were supposed to debut together, now what? you’re back to being a trainee?”

yn and the rest of the girls hugged the crying girl, “it’s okay.”

“it’s not okay.” yizhuo said harshly, “you’re supposed to be crying with me.”

yn couldn’t help but laugh at the girls words, “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to convince myself that this is fake.”

the girls huddled together in silence, “he said I have guaranteed spot in the line up for their new girl group.”

“so I guess we’ll see each other music shows?” aeri tried to lighten the mood, causing the girls the weakly laugh.

yn will never forget age eighteen, it was the year all her hard work went down the drain.

XIX

age nineteen was the age of complete chaos.

yn’s year of training at hybe was a lot, it was draining.

she trained under source for a while and hated it, she met a couple of girls that she was in the lineup with for the new girl group, they were pretty cool but it wasn’t the same as sm, she was the oldest out of all of them and didn’t connect with the girls much.

she had to watch aespa debut from behind the screen while she was stuck in the source music practice room, she still couldn’t believe her father, she always had a feeling that the family business would be put above her feelings one day but I guess she didn’t think that day would actually come.

she still talked to the girls who were now idols but it never felt the same on both ends, they were supposed to be together.

her days under source honestly felt like they were merged into one, everything was the same.

that was until yn was told that she was going to be moved under another label under hybe called ador with five other girls.

the six of them were gonna be the first new hybe girl group.

the girls were sweet, it was obvious all of them looked up to yn as a big sister, they also thought how rich she is was pretty cool.

but it was like the world was against yn because as soon as yn and the other ador girls were getting closer and getting ready for their debut yn got a call from her dad.

yn leaning against the mirror of the practice room, “hello?”

“hey honey did you get then news?”

yn slide down the mirror and say on the floor crossing her legs, “what news?”

“you’re getting moved back to source.” he says nonchalantly, “tomorrow to be exact.”

yn squeezed her eyes, “dad, you’re joking right?”

“when have I ever joked with you?”

he’s right, “so what? just like last time I can’t debut.”

“not exactly, plans changed I was told that your groups debut was gonna be postponed and that another girl group was gonna be debuting,”

yn furrowed her eyebrows she was not told this at all, “so what?”

“so, I told them that you would be a good asset to the group, you’re probably the most talented and would bring a lot of attention,”

“so I’m debuting in another group?”

“yes, you can thank me.”

yn rolled her eyes into the back of her head, “thanks dad…bye I have to tell the other girls.”

as much as she didn’t want to admit it she was excited to finally become an idol, all this hard work would finally mean something.

it was weird walking into that practice room full of other girls that have been working together, she was the new girl.

“this is yn, she will officially be apart of the lineup and will be working with you guys for now on, we’re gonna try our best to help her with the choreography and help her catch up with things, make her feel welcomed, she’s a really important figure, I’ll leave you guys to get to know her for a little.”

she tried her best to ignore the last sentence, her family followed her everywhere like a shadow.

“hello.” she said confidently even though she felt slightly uncomfortable under the eyes of the six girls.

she gave them a charming smile, “don’t worry I’m a fast learner, I think.”

she heard a giggle come from a girl standing in the far right causing yn to raise a brow at her.

“sorry,” the girl cleared her throat, “I’m kazuha.”

yn gave her a smile “nice to meet you kazuha.” she says before looking at the other girls.

she nodded along as they stated their names before looking at the last girl who just stared at her, “and yours is?”

“you don’t know me.”

“no sorry.”

“I’m kim chaewon.”

yn furrowed her eyebrows at the way the girl said her name to her, like she had some sort of authority over she, she didn’t like it.

“I’m moon yn,” yn responded, she didn’t have to say her name, that was already told earlier, but she felt like she had to.

chaewon raised a brow at yn’s tone, “rich girl huh?”

yn narrowed her eyes before turning towards the girl who had introduced herself as kazuha, “you seem cool, wanna show me some of the choreo before we have to start practicing?”

yn hasn’t acted this stand offish since she started at sm but it seemed needed, she couldn’t just let anyone talk to her the way they wanted, that’s not what she was taught.

the girl smiled at yn, “sure!”

as yn let the girl drag her to the other side of the room she heard the chaewon girl say something to the taller girl beside that she learned was yunjin, “this is who we lost ruka to? a stuck up rich girl?”

she decided to brush it off, it was the first day, they would probably warm up to each other.

oh how wrong was she.

nineteen was the age things officially went both uphill and downhill for yn.

this is just a chapter before things get worse ngl

#richgirl!yn #le sserafim x reader #lesserafim chaewon #lesserafim x reader #leaserafim #kim chaewon x reader #chaewon #aespa #aespa x reader #chaewon x reader #girl group imagines

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starsenha · 3 months ago

Text

PERSISTENT / S.J

Pairing ◊ reader x Jake (ft. '02 line, Aespa's NingNing and Ive's Gaeul)

Genre ◊ VVVVVVERY SUGGESTIVE, fluff

Warnings ◊ SUGGESTIVE AF, Jake is kinda dominant, a little toxic??, some sort of manipulation i guess??, Jake is persistent (ofcc) and plays little mind games to get what he wants, sitting on lap, heavy making out, reader is jealous and possessive

Word count ◊ 4k

Summary ◊ Jake had been pursuing you and aksing you out for years now and he finally understood that this was not how he was gonna get you to got out with him, so he tried something different.

a/n: not proofread, enjoy!

You and Jake had known each other for as long as you could remember. From kindergarten finger paintings to high school finals, you were always in the same schools, the same classes, and somehow, the same everything. One thing you knew for sure was that Jake liked you. You didn’t know exactly when it started, but ever since that day, he hadn’t left you alone. He was like a little puppy, following you everywhere. He loved to annoy you because the simple fact that you acknowledged his presence was enough for him.

Like that day, it was lunch period, and you were sitting with your best friends, Yizhuo and Gaeul, laughing over some silly meme Gaeul had shown you. Suddenly, you felt a familiar presence hovering over your shoulder.

“Hey, y/n, what’s up?” Jake’s voice was unmistakably cheerful, and you didn’t even need to look up to know it was him.

“Jake, we’re eating,” you said, trying to ignore him.

“Oh, perfect timing then! I brought you this,” he said, pulling out a slightly squished cupcake from his bag.

You sighed. “Jake, I already told you. I don’t like cupcakes.”

“I know, but this one is special. It’s made with extra love,” he said with a wink, placing it in front of you.

Gaeul snickered, and Yizhuo gave you a sympathetic smile. “Just eat it, Y/N, maybe he’ll go away,” Yizhuo whispered.

You rolled your eyes but took a bite. Jake’s face lit up like he’d just won the lottery.

“See? I knew you’d like it. So, how about that date?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“No, Jake. For the hundredth time, no,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“Okay, okay. But remember, I’m a persistent guy,” he said, finally walking away, but not without blowing you a kiss.

Or that day during biology class. He just flirted with you whenever he got the chance. You were in biology class, trying to focus on the lab assignment. You could feel Jake’s eyes on you from across the room. It was almost like he was summoning you to look at him. You sighed and turned to face him.

“What do you want Sim?”

He grinned. “Nothing, just admiring the view.”

You groaned. “Focus on your assignment.”

“Can’t. You’re too distracting,” he said, leaning closer. “By the way, are you free this weekend? Maybe we could catch a movie?”

“Jake, do you ever give up?” you asked, trying to sound exasperated, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you with a slight smile.

“Nope, not when it comes to you,” he said, winking.

Before you could respond, Jay and Sunghoon, Jake’s best friends, started laughing from the other side of the room.

“Dude, you’re relentless,” Jay said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, give it a rest, man,” Sunghoon added.

Jake just shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “You guys don’t get it. I’m playing the long game.”

Later that day, you were studying in the library, trying to get some peace and quiet to study for your upcoming exams. You thought you were safe until you heard the unmistakable sound of Jake’s voice.

“Hey, y/n, need a study buddy?” he asked, sliding into the seat next to you.

You didn’t even look up from your book. “Jake, I’m trying to study, and I need actual quiet to concentrate.”

“Great! Me too. We can study together,” he said, pulling out his textbook.

You sighed. “Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Annoy me.”

“Because it’s the only way I can get your attention,” he said, leaning in closer. “And because I like you. So, how about that date?”

You looked at him, exasperated. “Jake, seriously?”

“Hey, it was worth a shot,” he said, smiling. “But I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

The years flew by, and you were now in college. And you ended up in the same college as him, sharing your minor. At this point, you were sure he was following you on purpose, even if he swore it was pure coincidence.

It was a sunny afternoon on the college campus, and you were sitting on a bench with Yizhuo and Gaeul, enjoying the rare free time between classes. The conversation was light and filled with laughter when you spotted Jake approaching from a distance. Over the years, he had grown taller, his features more defined, and his presence somehow more commanding. You hated to admit it, but he had become hot.

“Hey, ladies,” Jake greeted, flashing his signature smile as he reached you.

You tried to stifle your smile, but it was no use. “Hey, Sim.”

“So, y/n, have you finally decided to go out with me?” he asked, sitting down next to you and leaning in closer than necessary.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks. “In your dreams, Jake.”

“Oh, every night,” he said, winking. “You look really good today, by the way.”

You felt your face grow hotter. “Thanks, I guess.”

Jake’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Did I just see a blush? Are you finally warming up to me?”

“Yeah, keep dreaming, Jake,” you repeated, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But just so you know, the offer still stands. Any time, anywhere.”

As he stood up to leave, he gave you a playful wink. “Catch you later, Y/N.”

You watched him walk away, unable to hide the small smile on your face. The moment he was out of earshot, Yizhuo and Gaeul pounced.

“Did you just smile at Jake?” Yizhuo asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“No, I did not,” you protested, crossing your arms defensively.

“You totally did,” Gaeul chimed in. “And you blushed! I saw it.”

“Okay, maybe I smiled a little. But it doesn’t mean anything. I was just being polite, that’s all.” you insisted.

“Sure, it doesn’t,” Yizhuo said, smirking. It's not like you ever cared about being polite before. You even look less annoyed than you usually do.”

“I assure you, he’s still as annoying as ever,” you said, trying to sound convincing.

Gaeul raised an eyebrow. “Annoying? Maybe. But he became hot, huh?”

You groaned. “Don’t remind me. He’s like a loser trapped in a hot guy’s body.”

Yizhuo and Gaeul burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. Deep down, you knew they were right. Jake had a way of getting under your skin, but lately, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. And you had no idea why. It couldn’t be only because of his looks, though. Maybe you actually liked him ? You did not even know. After that day, every interaction you had with Jake, like every time he complimented you or flirted with you, elicited a blush on your cheeks, a blush that you tried to hide most of the time but failed miserably.

Jake find himself hang out in Jay’s bedroom with Sunghoon one day. Hoon was flipping through a magazine while Jay fiddled with his guitar, strumming random chords. Jake was lying on Jay’s bed, staring at the ceiling with a satisfied grin on his face.

Sunghoon looked up from his magazine and smirked. “So, Jake, how’s your little mission to win y/n’s heart going?”

Jake propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s going pretty well, actually.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, pausing his strumming. “Really? She finally said yes to a date?”

“Not exactly,” Jake admitted. “But she’s been blushing every time I compliment her lately.”

Jay and Sunghoon exchanged surprised glances.

“No way,” Sunghoon said, closing his magazine. “Y/n? Blushing? Are we talking about the same person who used to roll her eyes at you every chance she got?”

Jake laughed. “Yep, the very same. She still rolls her eyes, but there’s definitely a blush there now. And she’s not as annoyed when I flirt with her.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Interesting. So, what’s your next move?”

Jake shrugged. “I’m just gonna keep doing what I’m doing. It’s obviously working.”

Jay shook his head. “Dude, you need to step up your game. If she’s starting to warm up to you, you can’t just keep doing the same thing. You need to make a bold move.”

Sunghoon nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you need to shake things up. Have you ever thought about making her jealous?”

Jake frowned. “Jealous? I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Trust me,” Sunghoon said, leaning back in his chair.

‘’Why would he trust you though? It’s not like you pull girls,’’ Jay retorted.

‘’First, rude. And, I saw it in a movie; I’m sure it’ll work!’’ Exclaimed sunghoon, looking a bit offended. “We’ve seen how she was with her exes. What was his name again? Jeonghyeon?’’ the two man nodded soflty. ‘’She’s definitely the jealous and possessive type. If she thinks you might be interested in someone else, it might push her to realize her feelings for you.”

Jake looked thoughtful. “I guess that could work. But how do I do it without making her mad?”

Sunghoon grinned. “Easy. Just hang out with other girls, flirt a little, but make sure Y/N sees it. Nothing too over the top, just enough to get her attention. Also, you need to put some distance between you two.”

Jay nodded. “Yeah, that could work actually. She’s never gonna realise her feelings if you still follow her like a puppy.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, guys. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“You won’t,” Sunghoon assured him. “Just be subtle about it. She’ll get the message without feeling like you’re rubbing it in her face.”

Jake thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot. But if it backfires, I’m blaming you two.”

Jay and Sunghoon laughed.

“Deal,” Jay said. “But trust us, this is going to work.’’

The day after, Jake set his little plan in motion. He knew it was not really a sane idea, but as long as he ended up with you, he didn’t really care how. The sun was shining brightly over the college campus as you walked to your first class, coffee in hand. You spotted Jake ahead, talking with Jay and Sunghoon. Normally, he’d be quick to greet you with a smile or a joke, but today, he barely glanced your way as you passed by.

“Hey, Jake,” you said, hoping to catch his attention.

He looked up briefly, offering a curt nod. “Hey, y/n.”

That was it. No teasing comment, no playful grin, no flirting. Just a nod. You frowned, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment. You continued on to class, but the interaction, or lack thereof, lingered in your mind. Throughout the day, you noticed Jake acting distant. He didn’t seek you out between classes, and even when you were in the same room, his attention seemed to be elsewhere. You told yourself it didn’t matter and that you didn’t care, but it was hard to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest.

Lunchtime rolled around, and you were sitting with Yizhuo and Gaeul in the cafeteria. You tried to focus on their conversation, but your eyes kept drifting toward Jake, who was sitting a few tables away with Jay, Sunghoon, and a girl you recognized from your biology class, Chaeyoung.

Jake was laughing at something Chaeyoung said, his attention fully on her. He leaned in closer, his expression animated and flirtatious. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach. Sure, you had already seen him with other girls before, but never he had his attention solely on them and not even a glance towards you.

Yizhuo nudged you. “Earth to y/n. What’s going on?”

“Huh? Nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Just distracted.”

Gaeul followed your gaze and smirked. “Distracted by Jake flirting with Chaeyoung?”

“I’m not distracted,” you insisted, but your eyes betrayed you, flicking back to Jake and Mia.

Jake glanced your way, and for a moment, your eyes met. He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. He then turned back to her, laughing at something she said and placing a hand on her arm.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “What’s his deal, anyway?" you muttered, aggressively stabbed your food with your fork.

Yizhuo and Gaeul exchanged knowing looks.

“Looks like someone’s a little jelly,” Yizhuo teased.

“I’m not jealous,” you snapped a little too quickly. “It’s just... weird seeing him paying attention to another girl that much, but good for him I guess.”

Gaeul raised an eyebrow. “Sure, Y/N. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You tried to ignore them, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Jake and Chaeyoung. Why did it bother you so much? You had always found Jake’s attention annoying, but now that it was directed at someone else, it felt different.

A few days later, Jake was still distant from you, and honestly, that made you a bit sad. His messages, his constant flirting, you actually missed it. You missed him. Your biology teacher pairs you up for a project, and you were a little bit too happy about it. Usually, it annoyed you are being paired with him, but this time, you saw that as an opportunity to spend some time with him.

You stood in front of Jake’s house, taking a deep breath before knocking on the door. Jake opened the door with a friendly smile. “Hey, Y/N. Come on in.”

“Thanks,” you said, stepping inside. “Nice place.”

“Thanks,” Jake replied, leading you to his living room where his laptop and project materials were already set up. “Figured we’d be more comfortable here than in the library.”

You sat down on the couch and pulled out your notes. “Yeah, this is fine.”

For the next hour, you both worked diligently on the project. You couldn’t help but notice that Jake hadn’t thrown a single flirtatious comment your way, and it was starting to bug you. Normally, by now, he’d have made at least a dozen jokes or compliments.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “So, Jake, you’re not gonna compliment at all today? Like, my hair, my outfit, nothing?’’

Jake looked up from his laptop, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, that. Well, I figured I’d finally take the hint. You’ve rejected me so many times, I thought it was about time I moved on.”

You blinked in surprise, not expecting that response. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I mean, there’s only so much rejection a guy can take before he gets the message.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. Deep down, you’d grown used to and even liked his attention. The thought of him no longer caring felt strangely hollow.

“Oh,” you said, trying to sound indifferent. “I guess that makes sense.”

Jake noticed the change in your demeanor and hid a smirk. He had hoped to evoke this reaction. “Yeah, it’s for the best. I’m over it.”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of emotions. “Well, good for you, I guess.”

Jake leaned back, crossing his arms. “You almost sound disappointed, y/n.”

“I’m not,” you said quickly, but the slight crack in your voice betrayed you.

“Sure,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But, hey, at least now we can just focus on this project without any distractions, right?”

You nodded, but the words felt hollow. “Right.”

As you both continued working, you found it hard to concentrate. Jake’s lack of flirtation was more distracting than his usual behavior. You realized just how much his playful comments and attention had meant to you, even if you never admitted it out loud.

After a while, Jake stretched and stood up. “Want something to drink? I could use a break.”

“Yeah, sure,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Water’s fine.”

Jake headed to the kitchen, and you took the moment to collect your thoughts. Why did it bother you so much that he claimed to be over you? Was it possible you’d taken his attention for granted?

When he returned with the drinks, you decided to test the waters. “So, Jake, are you really over it? Over me, I mean.”

Jake handed you a glass, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Why, y/n? Does it matter?”

You hesitated, feeling a flush of frustration. “I don’t know. Maybe.” You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “I… I kind of missed your messages and your attention. It’s weird not having you around all the time.”

Jake’s eyes widened in surprise, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Really? You missed me?”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Yeah, I guess I did. A little.”

Jake’s grin turned into a smirk. “Well, well, well. Look who’s coming around. You’re finally admitting you like my attention.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no heat behind it. “Don’t get cocky, Jake.”

“Oh, too late for that,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms, a self-satisfied expression on his face. “So, you admit it. You like me.”

You sighed, feeling a mixture of frustration and something else—something softer. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you did miss me,” he countered, leaning forward again. “That’s a start.”

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Okay, fine. Maybe I missed you a lot. Happy?”

Jake’s smile was radiant, his eyes dancing with joy. “More than happy, y/n. I knew deep down you liked me too.”

You groaned, trying to hide your smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, his tone cocky and arrogant. “Admit it, you like me.”

You bit your lip, feeling the last of your defenses crumbling. “Maybe I do.”

Jake’s eyes softened as he reached out, gently cupping your face with his hand. “Finally,” he murmured, his voice tender. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that.”

Before you could respond, Jake leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn’t, he deepened the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck to pull you closer.

You melted into the kiss, feeling a warmth spread through you. It was as if everything finally made sense. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but Jake’s eyes were filled with happiness.

“So, does this mean you’ll go out with me?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

You smiled, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. “Yeah, Jake. I’ll go out with you.”

Jake’s grin was infectious as he pulled you into another kiss. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense. His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer until you practically sat in his lap.

You let out a soft gasp as you felt the firmness of his chest against yours, and Jake took the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss even further as his hand fisted the back of your shirt. Jake’s hands roamed your back, moving them underneath the shirt, tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine.

He pulled you fully onto his lap, his grip on your hips firm. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and husky.

You moaned softly, the sound swallowed by his kiss. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense. “You’re so beautiful, y/n. Every time I see you, it takes my breath away.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but before you could respond, he captured your lips again, his hands sliding up to cup your face, while his other rested on your hips. You had no idea how things escalated so quickly, but it felt so good. The kiss was all-consuming, and you felt like you were floating, every nerve ending in your body alive with sensation.

Jake’s hands moved to your thighs, squeezing them gently before sliding up to your waist. “You feel so perfect,” he whispered, his lips trailing down to your neck. “So soft, so amazing.”

You tilted your head back, giving him better access as he kissed and nipped at your skin. “Jake… oh my God…’’ you let out a moan as you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his plump lips on your skin.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. “I love hearing you say my name like that,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Fuck, baby, you drive me crazy.”

You moaned softly, your hands roaming his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. “Jakey… you feel so good,” you whispered, unable to hold back.

He smirked, clearly pleased by your reaction. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” he teased, his eyes intensely dark. “You like feeling my hands on you.” You nodded eagerly, and your reaction made him chuckle slightly. His eyes locked onto yours, and he pulled you closer, his grip tightening. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. So perfect.’’

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw emotion, and it made your heart ache with a mixture of tenderness and desire. You leaned down, kissing him with all the pent-up passion you’d been hiding for so long. As your lips met, you couldn’t help but admire how handsome he had become. Your hand traced his jawline, his neck, and basically everything you could touch.

Driven by a sudden need to feel more of him, you tugged at his shirt, desperate to see and touch the skin beneath. Jake leaned back slightly, allowing you to pull his shirt over his head. As you did, your breath caught in your throat. His body was even more beautiful than you had imagined—and yes, you imagined how his body would look like more times than you cared to admit.

Jake noticed your admiration and smirked, his cockiness returning. “Like what you see, baby?” he asked, his voice teasing.

You nodded, your fingers trailing over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Yeah, I really do.”

He chuckled softly, finding your desperation both cute and incredibly hot. “You’re amazing, baby. And now, you’re all fucking mine.”

He pulled you back into a kiss, this one even more intense than before. His hands moved up your back, pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. You couldn’t help but whimper against his lips, the sound driving him wild. You could feel how hard he was beneath you.

“You’re so desperate for me,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and desire. “It’s so hot.”

You blushed at his words, but the heat between you only intensified. With that, he guided you down, his lips trailing hot kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone. His hands moved to your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin. “Every fucking inch of you.”

He continued to kiss and caress you, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body and his hands roaming your body. You felt like you were melting into him, every sense heightened. He was intoxicating.

As he kissed his way back up to your lips, you couldn’t help but run your hands over his chest, marveling at the hard planes and smooth skin. “Jake… I need you,” you whined, your voice trembling with desire.

He captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his hands roaming your body with possessive intent. “You have me, baby. All of me,” he growled, his voice low.

The kiss escalated, growing more urgent, more desperate. Jake’s hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, claiming. You felt like you were on fire, every touch igniting a new wave of pleasure. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in each other.

As you kissed him back with equal fervor, you knew this was just the beginning. But one thing you were sure about, was that this biology project would not be done today.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen jake #jake sim #enhypen jake smut #enhypen jake fluff #jake sim smut #jake sim fluff #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jaeyun x you #jake sim x reader #jake sim imagines #jake enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen jake x reader #enhypen jake imagines

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snaileer · 5 months ago

Text

Call to My Bedside - Part 2

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/snaileer/733019972168761344/call-to-my-bedside

Danyal wakes the next time with a weight to his limbs. From the moment he opens his eyes, he realizes he is not where he is supposed to be.

This is a medical bay, but it is not in the league, the constant twittering of League doctors monitoring his health is suspiciously gone. No shadows on guard outside the door.

The most glaring thing though, there was no Lazarus Water in his veins.

Perhaps Ra’s had decided he was no longer worth the expense, had decided-

No.

It was something else. That wasn’t an option he would consider.

Danyal tested the feeling of thin metal on his right wrist. Handcuffs, not shackles. It was odd.

But again, this wasn’t the league.

But he’d need to go back before Ra’s became angry. Danyal couldn’t fail.

He glances to the door as it opens, an old man-the one from before- and a younger, slender man standing just behind him.

Danyal stays still, his breathing even, forcing his heart to stay at a constant, stable rate. He watches them, analyzing.

The old man blinks, “It’s good to see you’re awake, young sir-,” He steps into the room, left foot a second slower, old weakness?- English accent, in Europe? the man behind him follows- stiff posture, rib injury, core focused strength, gymnast, combat trained and familiar- Richard Dick Grayson, Nightwing, he’s in America, Batman- “You gave us quite the shock earlier, myself especially.”

Nightwing watched Danyal warily, he saw him as a threat, and by the angle of his feet, a threat to the older man. He remembers now, he’d attacked him before, Nightwing was here to prevent it again.

They are heroes.

He was a part of the League of the Assassins.

He doesn’t fit here, could never.

Danyal considers the merits of speaking English, he wants to, deeply, and perhaps it would even benefit the situation; but his chest clogs with fear before he can even compose a sentence. It’s been too long anyways, the League dialect is easier.

“How long have I been here?” Danyal says, still not moving enough to even jostle the cuff at his wrist.

Nightwing sighs deeply, “We rescued you and Damian from a League of Assassins boat yesterday.” The words of the language are stilted, either by unfamiliarity or awkwardness, and who’s Damian? There’s a pause, “Do you know who I am?” Nightwing asks, caution in the words.

Danyal takes a deep breath, finally sitting up, despite the rattling of the chain on the cuff, “You are Nightwing, Dick Grayson, correct?”

Nightwing nods, his eyes briefly flitting to the elder man, “And you?”

Danyal’s eyes narrow, trying to find the trap, “I am Danyal Al Ghul, Heir of the Demon’s head, Blood of the Batman.”

Danyal watches the eyebrow of the old man tick up in his peripheral.

Nightwing pinches the bridge of his nose, “God I can’t believe Talia did it again,” He murmurs under his breath. In English. And Danyal would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to hear the language again, even just a little.

“Perhaps it would be best to bring Master Bruce back from his meeting,” the old man says pointedly. Danyal ignores as he changes and resets the IV attached to him, familiar with the autonomous care. With or without his consent.

“I’ve already notified him, he should be here soon.”

“Very good. In the meantime,” he turns to Danyal, “I am Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler. It seems I did not get the chance to introduce myself the last time you were awake.”

Danyal can’t help but blink at the almost joking tone Alfred says it with, knowing that Danyal had been the one to knock him out. It makes his lip twitch, and he silently huffs, surprising himself with the action.

The amusement vanishes as the door opens once more, footsteps barely audible in the second before.

The man standing there is large, tall and broad shouldered, strong- dangerous, calloused hands from training- his eyes stay glued to Danyal, blue and steady amidst the square jaw and sharp features, black hair tussled like he’d been rushing, just like Dad always-

Danyal feels his jaw wire shut, back straightening.

The thin chain of the handcuff jingles in the sudden silence.

This he remembers. This is Batman. The Dark Night of Gotham. The Detective.

The source of every expectation Ra’s Al Ghul has ever placed on Danyal.

He feels his face try to screw into a sneer, because he hates him and everything he’s done that has ever affected Danyal, but his face remains still. Controlled. Because there’s nothing he can do about it anyways.

Batman had introduced himself before.

As another name. A civilian. His training forces him to remember it.

Bruce Wayne.

It means next to nothing to him. But the man doesn’t stop looking.

It’s Nightwing that speaks next, “Danyal, this is Batman, Bruce Wayne, your father.” The smile is at odds with the weary tone of the words, “He was there when we saved you and Damian a few.. yesterday. God that feels like longer.”

Saved? The sentiment makes him want to scoff. He doesn’t, because Batman’s eyes already narrow with Nightwing’s words, and Danyal doesn’t need to make it worse.

A thousand more questions rush through his head. Each one bitten back with practiced force.

Instead he dips his head briefly, aiming for a show of respect, whatever that might mean here. However little he means it. Danyal can adjust regardless.

“Hn.”

Danyal lifts his head. That was the only response?

They uproot him entirely, chain him, throw him into unfamiliar waters where everything-everyone- is in new danger and all he does is grunt?

Danyal bites his tongue hard, letting his head lift, carefully non-defiant. He’s not quite sure his eyes get the message because he can feel the glare from them.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred pipes in, tone sharp.

Batman sighs, but the set of his shoulders changes, no longer so heavily lined with suspicion.

“What do you know about why Damian was-" There’s an even sharper cough from Alfred. Another sigh, “Fine. What has Talia already told you about me?”

Danyal glances between them, purposefully keeping his eyes from jumping down to the metal around his wrists.

No one else speaks.

“I know that you are Batman, the Dark Night of Gotham. You are also the detective, great enough to impress the Demon’s Head, Ra’s Al Ghul. The Demon’s daughter informed me you were dead.”

There’s a slight twitch on Batman’s face. “I survived Darkseid’s attack, although it led to me being lost in time and assumed dead for nearly a year,” Batman’s eyes flick across the room, almost considering, “Red Robin was responsible for my return just over a year ago.”

Red Robin. Timothy Drake. The one Ra’s favored. The second source of expectations placed on Danyal.

And he was lost in time? What did that consist of, what did it mean for Batman? Did it matter if it didn’t affect Danyal?

“I see.” He says. Silence lingers. They still expect him to speak. He hedges his bets, asking something he actually cares about, “Why am I here, Batman?”

The question seems to be expected and yet still strike with surprise.

“I… regrettably, did not know you were… present at the league. I do not believe in their methods and would not have left you there had I known.”

And that makes it all okay. Danyal wants to scream. But he narrows his eyes instead, only more suspicious, “And why were you there then?”

“We followed the shadows that had taken Damian. He told us who you were.”

Danyal pauses, leaning back slightly. They were willing to answer his questions, to actually talk with him. Of course they were, they were meant to be heroes.

But it had been so long since he’d actually talked with anyone other than Ra’s, and their conversations were a battleground of expectations and tests.

He fights with his conscious knowledge of this and the habits that have been beaten into him so thoroughly.

“Who is… Damian?” He asks, watching their reactions for the answer.

All three seem surprised by the question. But not angry. Of course not, he reminds himself.

“You’ve mentioned him several times like I am supposed to know who he is.” He had barely been told anything since his forceful return, and any knowledge he had from before stopped at Dick Grayson. And then Timothy Drake.

Danyal had purposefully ignored the hero world he had lived in-

He forces his eyes up to meet Batman’s, noting the hesitance in the set of his shoulders.

“Damian is… your brother. He was.. Talia’s son, before he came to me just a few years ago. He was raised in the league.”

Danyal blinks, anger disbelieving in his chest. Is that what she did?

“When.”

There’s no response, save a twitch of Batman’s eyebrow.

“When,” Danyal says again, his breathing controlled, “Did he come to you? How old was he? How long ago?”

They seem to pick up on the way Danyal’s tone has changed. Good for them.

“Nearly three years ago. He was ten.” Batman answers, voice rough. Tinged with curiosity and unfulfilled questions.

Danyal breathes deeply, his heart rate picking up against his wishes. Icy rage flares.

The beeping of the machine at his side matches the pounding in his chest, uneven, unbalanced, uncontrolled.

Keep it under control. Keep it. Under. Control.

Control is power. Control is strength. Control is the only thing that will ever be enough.

He breathes deeper. Holding his breath. Once. Twice.

The beeping is steadier with each tone.

“Danyal?” An old voice asks beside him. It’s Alfred. The butler.

Danyal shifts his jaw from its clench, “I am fine.” His eyes slide back into focus, still on Batman, “Damian is your son then.”

Batman nods solemnly, a heavier sigh through his chest, “Talia and I have had an… interesting relationship. But I loved her. Once. She has never failed to make me regret it.”

That was why she had visited him. Her words. What she had almost said. Talia had wished he was Damian, wished he was Bruce. Just not Danyal of course. The weapon she discarded for a better version. One she could love.

One who would be heir.

Batman continues, “Talia is Damian’s mother, told him he would be my heir, as I’m sure you were but-” Batman stops, looking at Danyal as confusion flicks across his face, “You weren’t.”

“I was never told I would be heir of the Batman, only of the Demon’s head.” This, at least, Danyal is familiar with, “That’s the only reason they needed me: to be their weapon made from the Demon Head’s enemy.” Danyal breathes, “A weapon does not have parents, and I have never been more than a weapon to them, crafted for the league’s purpose. For Ra’s.”

Ra’s is the reason Danyal is alive at all. Is the only reason he has survived the league, but he is also the reason Danyal had to, no- has to survive.

Danyal drops his eyes, tired, so so tired, like he always is. Unerringly, his eyes find the shine of the metal around his wrist. Arm held carefully still to keep from jostling it, even as his other hand has found its way to his lap.

“You can’t really believe that,” Dick says, disbelief in his own voice, unsurety in the frame of an unfamiliar language.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”

And it doesn’t. It only matters what he can do. That’s he’s strong. He just has to be strong enough. Ra’s is the reason Danyal suffers, has always been, and Danyal will never let him escape that.

Silence lasts. Danyal quickly grows tired of it.

Luckily, Batman breaks it, “Why were you exposed to the Lazarus waters?” He asks, voice rigid and flat once more.

Perhaps the casualness is getting to him because Danyal manages to lift one lip in a slight sneer, “The only reason anybody uses the Lazarus Pits.”

The Batman stays silent, clearly talking about the unorthodox method of exposure they had resorted to.

Danyal sighs this time, serious, “My heart is damaged. Electricity. The pits are a short term solution for it. Grandfather had said he found a long term one.” Danyal doubts it matters now. Whatever care his grandfather’d had was fragile, dependent on Danyal’s performance.

The palm of his left hand tingles sharply.

Would this be enough to tip the scale against him? What would he lose for being here? Who would he-

Danyal looks into Batman’s eyes, “Am I to be a prisoner here?”

The man glances over him at the two on the other side, Danyal doesn’t follow it, nor the silent conversation he’s sure is happening.

Instead, Danyal focuses his ears, senses sharpened by training, by the pits, by his accident… and turns his attention to the person hiding in an alcove above them.

Low breathing, higher pitched, the scent of sword polish and hair gel. The person was small and armed.

“You’re not a prisoner… but if you leave.. you’ll be in danger,” Batman says, voice deep, “We can’t let that happen.”

So either be followed or don’t leave. What great options.

Danyal tries not to scowl, not to show any inflection at it, “And do I have to stay here? In your…. Cave?”

“It might be difficult to move- uh.. the medical things-” Nightwing starts, but Danyal cuts him off by swiftly removing the IV tucked in the crook of his elbow.

He presses his thumb against the small well of blood as he looks forward.

Alfred shouts, jolting towards him, “Master Danyal! That is hardly sterile-“

Danyal’s eyes snap to him the moment the title leaves his mouth, heart stilling for a second, commands in his eyes. Alfred falls still.

Danyal lets it fall away the next second, barely two beats missed. The beeping starts again.

“I see.” Alfred straightens, stepping forward slowly to turn off the IV and coil it, removing other monitors, “Another one for the dramatics then.”

Nightwing steps up, hands out placatingly, “There’s..mm really no need, Danyal, uh-” He glances back to Batman, “Of course you can leave the cave-,” the next words are in bright clear English, “I’m sure there’s already a room picked out for you.”

“Right you are Master Dick,” Alfred says, “Young sir, do you need any help moving?” He directs to Danyal.

He wants to rip his hand from the metal cuff. Snap the thin chain to pieces.

Instead he looks to Nightwing, then Batman, “The restraints?” He says, voice as empty of want as he can make it.

The click of the key in the lock echoes in his ear and it’s only through practiced calm that Danyal does not immediately jerk his arm away from it. Instead, he calmly retracts his hand, bracing slightly against the bed as he turns and plants his feet on the floor.

The others have already moved out of his way, watching intently, waiting for him to fall- to fail.

Danyal straightens his legs. He stands. He breathes. He controls his heart. He walks forward.

He does not fall. He doesn’t have the option to fall.

“I can go now.” He says, looking at them. His knuckles are white on the edge of the bed.

Nightwing looks at Batman once more. The man grunts, then turns from the room in a way that he can only imagine would perfectly flare a cape.

Danyal’s feet feel like they’re filling with cement. Nightwing stares at him expectantly. Danyal understands expectations- but these ones, it leaves him helpless and-

“Follow me then, dear boys,” Alfred says, stepping in front smoothly, already moving towards the door, “We can go upstairs, I’ll start on a meal and Master Dick can show you the rooms.”

Nightwing goes next, leaving Danyal to follow not quite behind him, the angle purposeful to keep him in sight.

Nightwing casts a wary glance to him every few minutes, continuing a light chatter with Alfred. Danyal stares forward, taking in the cave from his peripheral - computer, showers, training mats, an unfamiliar shadow watching him, armory, swords, knifes, suits, cars and vehicles lined up on platforms, a t-Rex, giant penny, a glass case- Danyal lets his eyes linger on the shadow, never faltering his steps.

His neck itches at the attention.

He looks forward. Nightwing is looking at him again, snapping forward the moment Danyal’s eyes narrow. Good.

The steps are slightly narrow, dark, but they come out to a warmly lit study. Dark wood, papers, books on shelves, a portrait on the wall, pictures on the desk, three black hair boys, another of only a single with stiff posture, a ballet dancer- they keep walking. The door-clock- closes behind them like the clamping of an artery.

Nightwing and Alfred’s conversation continues in smooth, low-toned English. Danyal blinks, slowly, slower than he needs to, for a breath of a second relishing in the almost familiarity of it all, the dissonance from the last three years alone enough to well emotion in his chest.

His eyes open. He continues after them.

“This is where I’ll leave you, I’ll be up with some food young sir,” Alfred says abruptly, turning towards a swinging door that reveals a glimpse of a stainless kitchen.

“So…” Nightwing says, swinging his arms a bit at his sides, “uh… I can show you the room you can sleep in, yes?”

Danyal’s shoulders tighten, rising from a subconscious millimeter slouch. He nods stiffly.

His heart remains under control. Always under control.

“So this is the Wayne Mansion, you can go for food any time, uh…” There’s an unsure pause as they start up the stairs, “You can meet the rest of us soon maybe, a correct introduction to Damian…depends on Bruce really… he can be … over …over.”

Nightwing looks at Danyal properly, “I’m usually better at this, most of the bat kids know the League dialect but… I haven’t exactly practiced it.”

Danyal stares at him. He doesn’t want to hear the sound of the League’s twisting words, he wants to leave. He wants to find his family, protect them, get them as far away from Ra’s al Ghul and the league as possible. He wants to go back to Ra’s convince him to let his family go if Danyal stays willingly. Wants a blade strong enough to run the man through and-

“I know you are probably stressed and this is all unfamiliar but … we want you to stay… you won’t be hurt here. This is different than the league, you’re safe.”

Danyal scoffs, not bothering to stop it, he hasn’t been safe since the day he tripped over a wire and died.

Nightwing doesn’t seem surprised by the response.

“This can be your room,” He says, opening a door in the hallway and gesturing a wide arm to Danyal. “The rest of us are just down the hall.”

Danyal steps in, looking around, counting exits, tactical advantages, possible listening devices- He turns around, giving Nightwing a stiff nod, “Thank you for the room.”

Nightwing still stands at his door, “Anything else I can help with for you?” He says.

Danyal considers staying silent, obedient, but he hates hearing the language at every turn, he never wants to hear it again, the words they forced in his mouth, ripping away what was in their place-

“Can you just speak English?” He says, realizing too late how weak it sounds, “You don’t have to use the league tongue, I can-English is.. fine.” Fine. Better. Familiar. A remnant of a family he’s almost certain he’s lost now.

Nightwing barely quirks a brow, eyes flicking over him.

“Can do,” He nods, “Well then… Welcome to Wayne Manor, Danyal.”

And he closes the door behind him.

'It’s just Danny, please.' He wants to whisper to the silence. But he’s grown too used to shadows and it catches in his throat.

He goes and sits on the bed. Staring out of the window. A window he can’t leave from. Where would he go? He doesn’t have anyone, they’re all in danger because of him. He can’t leave.

He’s trapped.

Always trapped.

Bound. Stuck to one place. One thing.

Emotions well in his chest, in the back of his throat, thick and dark and painful. He wants to cry. He can’t. Emotions constrict around his lungs.

And Danyal sits, staring at the wall, wishing he could cry. But the emotions just twist themselves until they’re tight enough, heavy enough to fall down, settle back like a layer of heavy chainmail over his insides.

Danyal turns on the bed, facing the wall.

It’s empty tan-beige. Neutral colors. No personality. Temporary.

This is familiar to him. This he can do.

Danyal stands again, he strips down his tunic, his shin-guards and pants- notes the lack of his typical weapons- methodically placing it on the dresser. Not his dresser, he already has one, painted blue with yellow stars back in-

Danyal gets in the shower, glad to find soap there, contemplating not using it, not wasting the energy. He watches condensation develop on the glass walls, water droplets collecting until they finally rush down the glass.

His finger lifts, already wanting to trace the letters he knows. Three lines, an H. One. i. Or e, he could write hello. Or ghost. Mom. Dad. Jazz, Sam, Tucker. Write it in English so he wouldn’t forget the way they were meant to be spelled, let the water wash it away.

His fingers ache where they’d been broken for it. For tracing letters in dirt or on mirrors, in the foggy glass at night. A break for every word.

Danyal can see his hand shake, inches from the glass. Pain and fear a leech on his bones.

He drops the hand. Turns to wash away the soap and get out, towels left on the counter.

He doesn’t even glance at the mirror as he goes out.

His tunic is where he’d left it, neatly set on the dresser top… but…

Danyal opens the drawers, changing into the boxers, the next one is dress pants and collared shirts, but in the third-

Rough denim scuffs against his fingertips.

They’re dark wash jeans, fancy and nothing like the ones his mom would buy on sale from the thrift store but…

He doesn’t let himself debate it further, he has to wear clothes and no one is here to tell him which. They put them here so they should expect him to wear it- it could be a test but he doesn’t care, let them do what they want if only to pretend the jeans are stiff from ectoplasm stains instead of fresh starch.

He chooses a white t-shirt, ignoring the collared shirts and polos that are probably meant to go over it.

He breathes, letting his shoulders drop, tilting his head back with his eyes closed, pretending for only a second that he’s getting dressed for school. Jazz is across the hall getting her books together, Sam and Tuck are on their way to walk together, his parents are already downstairs working.

'See?' He wants to say, 'I’m still the same person, nothings changed!'

The metal of the door knob clicks and Danyal’s head snaps towards the sound.

There’s nothing. Danyal doesn’t trust it, eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes the tall double doors.

“I know you’re there!” he calls out, fists ready, “Open the door and show yourself or I will!”

There’s a harsh tutt behind the door before it swings open, revealing a kid standing there. Short, black hair- hair gel-, dress slacks and shirt hiding multiple bladed weapons-

“Clearly I meant for you to know I was here, I am not incompetent,” The kid scoffs. So Nightwing wasn’t lying about them all knowing the league dialect…. Yet somehow, it sounds different coming from the kid, familiar in a way that makes Danyal's skin burn. He looks irritated, arms crossed in front of him even while his eyes wander over the room and Danyal with curiosity. And judgement.

Danyal rolls his eyes at it, “Did you need something from me, or did you just want to stand there looking like a hair gel commercial?”

The boy’s face goes red impressively fast, “How dare you-” he moves- and a knife is flying at his face, Danyal dodges, catching it in a second, shifting to throw it back but stops, half way extended. He looks at the hilt, there’s a League marking engraved on the bottom no larger than a droplet.

Danyal's eyes flick up to the boy still standing in front of him, glaring him down.

That’s all it takes before the boy jumps forward, another knife in his hand.

Danyal blocks it, twisting the arm as he drops his own acquired knife to his other hand and lunges forward.

The boy flips over his arm, and Danyal doesn’t let his surprise show as he reaches to grab the second knife he’d forced the kid to drop.

The boy tutts at him again, “So this was who Mother replaced me with? Street rabble?”

Danyal blinks, Mother? Then it clicks.

So this was Damian. The child the demon’s daughter wanted, beloved by all. Treasured. Preserved.

Danyal grits his teeth against the bitter taste in his mouth. He lunges forward, already expecting the larger dagger Damian uses to block him as he’s forced to retreat.

Danyal doesn’t stop, continuing to press him, “The Demon’s Daughter is no mother of mine,” he spits as he slams a kick against Damian’s elbow, blade dropping once more. Danyal cuts a shallow slash across Damian’s left cheek before dropping his own stolen knives.

He doesn’t stop though, continuing to push Damian back- Damian swerves to the side, grabbing his arm, flipping him, Danyal retaliates, grabbing the others shirt and taking him with him.

He catches his feet a second before the other, using it to pin him face to face with Danyal’s arm at his throat, “Maybe if you were good enough, you wouldn’t have had to be replaced at all and I never would have been forced to be here, this is your fault. I was free,” He grits out, teeth bared, “You got to live these last three years because I paid for it, and you’re angry because they don’t want you!?”

There’s something startling in Damian’s wide eyes, “What are you talking about?” He snaps, “I am Damian Al Ghul, Heir to the League, Ibn al X-“

Danyal slams him harder against the floor, cutting him off. Green simmers, almost boiling, under his skin. He grits his teeth harder against the sharp pain through his chest.

He leans closer to Damian, snarling, his grip bruising, “You don’t even know what you escaped, what Ra’s really wanted with you, do you? What being heir means. You’re nothing more than a -”

Damian jerks his head upwards, colliding with Danyal’s forehead and knocking him back with a grunt. Danyal’s grip loosens momentarily and Damian pulls free.

He slams a palm strike into Danyal’s front, pain lancing through his chest as he gasps, heart convulsing.

He moves through it by force, both rolling off each other with violent hands.

They stand opposite each other once more. Blood drips from the cut on Damian’s cheek. Danyal’s ragged breaths join Damian’s in the silence. He can hear footsteps on the stairs. His heart clenches in his chest painfully. There’s barely enough Lazarus water in his veins to keep it pumping for a week, less if he keeps this up.

The door flings open with a slam, both of them turning to look.

Batman stands there, battle calm in his eyes.

Damian turns fully at the sight of his father, but Danyal doesn’t shift from his stance.

“Father, I-“ Damian starts, but Batman just lifts a hand, silencing him.

“What. Happened.” Batman says, looking straight at Danyal, not even a question. A demand. Green tinted steel shoots up Danyal’s spine and he does nothing but glare back at the man.

Batman doesn’t break eye contact, “Damian.”

“I was determining if he was a threat. He is from the League, Father,” Damian says shortly, standing tall despite the blood on his face.

Batman looks between them briefly, and oh what a picture they must make.

Two kids, both born in the same cage, one trying to claw his way out of the chains and the other trying to fight his way in.

Exhaustion washes over Danyal, and he drops his fists, letting them hang by his sides.

Batman hums, barely a sound, but a muscle twitches in Damian’s jaw.

“Father-“

“Go Damian. Now.”

Damian looks back at him, not-quite-hate in his eyes, before dropping to a crouch to grab the knife closest to his feet with one hand and turning to leave.

Faced with Batman’s sole attention, Danyal lifts his chin defiantly, daring him to take action, to punish him, to do something that he can predict, can defend, can justify the anger he feels when he sees him.

“I know it was different in the league, but here, this is not acceptable.”

Danyal half-scoffs. He finally steps out of his stance, “I could leave.”

“That’s not-” Batman pinches the bridge of his nose, voice like gravel, “I am trying to protect you, the manor is not the league. I understand what it must have been like to be raised like that, but you can’t hurt others, no matter what teachings you’ve had. I can guarantee you won’t be hurt here, I won’t let-”

Danny huffs a dry laugh, “You won’t let?” He steps forward, rage bubbling back up, “Hurt me? I’m not worried about me, Batman. You can’t stop him. Ra’s is going to get what he wants, and as long as that is me, everyone around me is in danger, I’m dangerous. I'm a weapon, a weapon of your enemy. You can’t fix that, can you?”

“We can protect ourselves-”

Danyal scoffs again, “Because you’ve done such a good job of that already? Don’t forget, all of this is because of you, they wanted you, and now they want me because of you, Batman. You.”

Something stricken shoots through the man’s face before it flattens. Batman nods and steps back, a hand on the doorhandle, “Don’t leave.” Is all he says, before the door clicks shut.

Danyal feels the walls closing in on him like a cell.

He looks to his left.

The bathroom door is open. He can see his reflection in the mirror, any condensation gone.

Danyal stares.

When he had been younger, back in- before. Danyal would stand in front of a mirror and pick out parts he thought looked like his parents. Like a Fenton. His shoulders were from Jack obviously. His eyes and hair too. His jawline was from Maddie, his hands from Jack, and the love of engineering and planning from Maddie. He had the same legs as his mom. Same voice as his dad, always loud. If he didn’t look too hard, he could almost convince himself he was really their kid, their son.

But he could never quite place his tanned skin, or the texture of his hair. The shape of his eyes and nose. Always just a little bit wrong.

What had pretending done but put them in danger?

Danyal turns on his heel, flicking the lights off and putting a glass soap bottle on the door handle.

He knew he’d wake up regardless… but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Danyal rubs his chest with the heel of his palm as he lays down on the far side of the bed, his back to the door, staring out at the city beyond the window glass.

How close would he come to freedom before he’d have to give it up again?

And he knew he would.

For his family, he would give the Demon’s Head anything.

Everything.

If that’s what it took.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pretend he would fall asleep.

———

Bruce runs over Danyal’s words again and again during the flight.

'This is because of you, Batman,'

He flicks a switch.

'You.'

The landing gear lowers.

'You can’t fix this.'

He can see the way the shadows of the forest twist around the clearing.

'Dangerous.'

Wheels touch grass. Batman lands at the coordinates, just on the side of the field in front of the woman waiting for him.

'Because of you.'

He breathes.

“My Beloved, how are you?” She greets him as he descends the ramp.

Bruce says nothing. He cannot even begin to fathom what he would say if he did.

Instead, he stares at her. A woman who had once meant so much to him, whom he had nearly thrown away everything for. And who had nearly done the same for him.

But she hadn’t. Wouldn’t. And it had hurt him, but he had recovered.

And then she hurt him again.

She had stolen and lied to him in his vulnerability.

And still, he had found himself loving her.

Had allowed her to continue hurting him. Again and again. Out of a vain hope that she would change. Because he thought that he could change her. That she would change for him.

It was foolish. It was senseless.

Yet he found it just as impossible to stop.

And so she had hurt him again.

“Talia.” Her name grated against his heart, “Why did you not tell me I had another son?”

“The boy is no more yours than he is mine, Beloved,” She says with a roll of her eyes, as if explaining a basic fact, “He belongs to my father. And to the league.”

Bruce is silent. He notices a slight bruise forming on her left cheek.

Talia’s face is tight, “Do you not care about the son I have given you? Has Damian not satisfied you?”

Bruce feels the leather of his gauntlets stretch over his clenched fists.

“I deserved to know,” He near growls, “Just as I did Damian, just as I did with Jason. You cannot continue to keep my children from me-“

“If it was not for that boy, you would not have met Damian at all,” Talia snaps.

Bruce blinks. Hard.

“His return brought Damian into your arms, you should be grateful.” She spits at him like an accusation, “Damian is ours, Bruce. From our love. That boy was made before we truly knew each other, before we understood each other as we do now. He was borne of nothing more than my father’s obsession. Damian is our son, not him.”

“His name is Danyal, Talia!” Bruce bellows, “He is a child, and he is a person! Just like you, and me, and Damian, and he deserves more than to be written off as one of Ra’s al Ghul’s projects! He deserves better than this!” Than us, he doesn’t say. Deserves better than him.

Talia straightens from already perfect posture, “I made a choice Bruce, for Damian. To protect Damian. I knew our son was never meant to bear my father’s hands, he was never meant to be what Danyal is.” Talia pauses, eyes sharp on him, and he can see when she chooses her next words. Already knows they are meant to cut him, to hurt him. He steels himself and listens anyways.

“Perhaps you should ask him where he’s been all these years I’ve supposedly kept him from you, Beloved.” She says coyly, stepping forward.

“What are you talking about.”

She takes another step, “The truth of the matter is that Danyal could have gone to you any time he wanted. He chose not to. Chose to stay away.”

He stays silent.

“Oh- Did the boy not tell you?“ Talia says, barely hiding the falseness, “Danyal was living in America before he returned to his rightful duty. Almost didn’t work, but…” Talia hummed, “His gifts were fortuitous in the end. A risk well calculated, my father’s doing I suspect.”

Talia almost seems blaisé as she talks about it, but he can see the way it irks her. Her father had tricked her. Somehow. Or had manipulated her into some choice she hadn’t known about.

Batman says nothing, analyzing, taking in clues.

“Beloved,” Talia sighs, “Surely you must know, the boy must return.”

“And surely you know: I can’t let that happen.”

Talia glowers at him.

“It’s him or Damian, Bruce, you must choose, just as I did.”

“No.” Bruce growls.

“You cannot have both,” She snaps at him.

Batman stands firm, staring her down, resolute.

“You invite his anger on them both,” She snarls, “You save no one.”

Batman ignores the words. He has made it his job to make sure that’s not true. He’ll die before it is.

“Fine.” She snaps again. But she lingers for a few seconds more. The lines of her face softening.

“I remember I once loved that same unbending drive.”

It feels odd to hear her confirm something he’s not sure ever really existed.

Then Talia turns away and walks into the forest. Shadows contort and reform around her at the edges of the clearing. Slowly emptying until there’s nothing left but the trees and the grass and him, standing alone at the center of it all.

He turns to leave.

He won’t choose between his children.

He climbs the ramp.

He will protect them.

He sits down in the pilots chair, flicking switches and gears.

All of them.

Engines roar to life below him.

He will not fail.

And yet… he cannot forget her words. Twisted they may be, and just as easily lies.. but, her irritation at her father’s plans… he had always been good at telling when it was real.

'Living in America… chose to stay away,'

Living in America?

Had he been secluded at one of their bases here? Had it even been close?

Had Danyal been just miles away, suffering, and Bruce hadn’t known?

But it felt wrong. What Talia had said sat like a jagged puzzle piece, poking and prodding at him, not quite fitting the theories he threw at it.

‘Returned.’

Did she only mean returned to the League’s home base? Closer to their original strongholds in Asia?

It didn’t make sense. She would have crafted the words differently, to drive her point home.

She’d said ‘supposedly kept him from you’ like she hadn’t. Like she hadn’t kept Danyal hidden, the way she had Damian. It didn’t add up.

She could have just been lying. Bruce didn’t think she was. It couldn’t be that simple. No, there was something specific about the way she’d phrased it all, like she was telling him a secret. Like it was something Ra’s had hidden. Like something Danyal was hiding.

Batman narrowed his eyes, staring out at the landscape in front of him as it rushed past.

Whatever it was, whatever she wasn’t telling him, Batman needed to figure it out before it came back to hurt him or his family. Danyal included.

Then there was the rest of it.

The ‘gifts’ that Talia had mentioned.

He knew Danyal had been forced to interact with the Lazarus waters, but he didn’t know to what extent. What it had done to him.

It’d had an effect on him, that much was clear by the acid green of his eyes when he stood off against them in the Batcave. And earlier when Bruce had first interrupted the fight with Damian.

He didn’t even think Danyal had noticed they were glowing then. Too defensive to think about it. Or perhaps he was used to it.

How many times had he been submerged? Had been so injured that Ra’s saw fit to put him in?

How many times had Bruce not been there to protect him from it?

Even if he was only acting out of defensiveness… was that not Bruce’s fault too?

That he still felt unsafe in the Manor. That he didn’t know if Bruce would act the same as Ra’s, as the League.

And Danyal was right, he was responsible for the pain the league caused him, for them hunting him. If he had never let himself be pulled into Talia’s web- or if she was to be believed… even before that.

When exactly? When had Batman become enough of a threat that Ra’s had decided to use him? Was it because he had refused to be his heir? Or before that? Before or after Dick? Jason?

He doesn’t even know how old Danyal is. How long Batman had let him suffer because of h-

“I do hope you aren’t planning to brood like this with your children around, Master Bruce,” Alfred says, cutting through his thoughts, “I don’t believe your pride would survive the repercussions.”

Bruce glances at the monitor Alfred has decided to call from.

“Hn.” Bruce grumbles.

Alfred is right, his children would tease him mercilessly for ‘brooding’ as they called it. If only Dick at least, who hasn’t missed a chance to do so since he’d been a freshly christened Robin.

How would Danyal fit into that? Would he grow to tease like the others? Or remain stoic like Damian?

“I’ll be approaching in 30 minutes, A.” He says. ‘Will Danyal be there?’ He doesn’t say.

Alfred says nothing in response. The engines fill the silence.

He grits his teeth, he just wants to know the situation, to stay updated, he wants to know if something’s happened or anything’s changed.

He sighs, forcefully loosening his jaw, “Who’s going out tonight?”

“Mm, I believe Miss Brown and Master Tim were discussing going together. Master Thomas is in bed, as is usual, though he did mention he’d be out early.. and I believe Madame Cassandra is staying in. She seems to have found a new project.”

Batman hums in confirmation. He wants to know what Cass had found interesting. More than that, he wants to know if Danyal was okay, Damian too.

“It seems it circles around our newest resident, though she hasn’t shown herself to him yet. Master Dick also seems to think the young sir is his duty as much as Master Damian had been.”

Batman feels his lips tug downwards as he grunts in response. Damian’s first year with them was… a regret. His own absence was devastating. He’d have to find some way to assure Dick that Danyal wasn’t his responsibility this time, that he could still be his own person. Perhaps he should encourage Dick to return to Blüdhaven. Affirm the family would be alright without him.

Batman sees Gotham’s cloud of smog come into view. The bay follows soon after, and the buildings next.

“I’m coming in now.”

“Very good sir.” Alfred answers, nodding in his peripheral before the call clicks off.

When the Batplane arrives to the cave, Alfred is nowhere to be seen. The other’s suits are missing as well, meaning they are already out for the night.

Batman doesn’t pause more than to look around, already heading to the Batcomputer with determined steps.

He enters his access codes, running through his security checks unconsciously, mind spinning on theories and clues.

He picks apart his and Talia’s interaction again and again, trying to pull everything he can from it and put it into his report file. Maybe if he can just read over it again, remember something else, maybe it will be enough to protect Danyal, maybe it will be enough to stop Ra’s, maybe it will be enough understand why Talia did this to h-

A gentle hand slides over his just as his finger goes to slam the enter button of the keyboard.

He looks over his shoulder, already recognizing the feeling of stitching against his suit.

Cass looks at him meaningfully. Her gentle hand shifts into a lean against his arm, the pressure a comfort. She stares up at the Batcomputer and reads through his writing piece by piece.

Bruce waits for her. He knows she struggles with so many words. Knows that she gained more from watching him type it than she will from reading an exact account but the details will be helpful anyways.

She nods to him, fingers tapping lightly against his arm as she thinks it over, scanning and rescanning the document.

Cass has been developing fidgets recently, small twitches of movement that don’t serve a purpose than to let her move.

Bruce wants to smile every time. He’s pretty sure they’re on purpose, but still.. it’s freedom for her.

She nudges him, reaching for a button across the keys. It flicks to a camera screen a second later.

The one in Danyal’s room.

Bruce feels a twinge of guilt at the disappointment Cass aims at him before they both refocus on the image.

The empty image.

Danyal is not in the room, and Bruce feels his eyebrows scrunch as he goes to pull up the other camera feeds to locate him, make sure he hasn’t been taken-

“Downstairs.” Cass says.

Batman gets a half turn around, checking the cave for a foreign presence, before Cass stops him again.

She points to the screen, drawing his attention to a bottom square.

Danyal stands in the hallway of the manor, staring at the portraits on the walls.

He feels a light tap on his shoulder in parting before Cass’s presence at his side disappears silently.

He stares up at the figure of his son standing in the hallway, mind still whirring about possibilities and clues and lies and secrets.

Danyal continues to stand in front of the portrait for another minute, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side.

He rips his eyes away from the portrait, turning down the hallway and ducking into the kitchen.

It’s empty when he gets there. Then again, the whole mansion had seemed empty. Aside from the ever constant, ever familiar feeling of eyes weighing down on him.

Danyal considers making himself food.

He considers jumping out of the window and seeing how far he could get.

He wonders if their cabinets have something he’d know and could do himself or if he’d be hopelessly lost.

He wonders how long it will take for the Demon’s Head to find him. Wonders what he’ll do when he does. Wonders if his-

He stops himself short.

“May I offer you some tea and snacks, young sir?”

Danyal turns slightly to face the old butler-Alfred- who’d entered behind him and nods.

Can he even say no?

Alfred gestures to a chair set up by the built in breakfast nook.

He sits. Even as the domesticity of it all throttles his heart in his chest. The way they must eat together every morning, appear together in every photo, smiling. A family portrait. Batman’s family. Batman got to keep his. But Danny’s is tra-

Danyal breathes purposefully, staring down at his hands, clenching them tighter.

Suddenly a hand reaches across his vision, pressing a button on an ancient looking miniature TV sitting just tucked into the kitchen corner.

It flickers to life on some random news channel, low mindless chatter softening the air.

Danyal feels his shoulders lower slightly, just barely, as the silences retreats. He glances up, expecting to find Alfred there staring at him, questioning him, why he’s acting like this, why he-

Alfred’s back is to him. The man busy at the stove with the tea kettle.

“I hope you like lemon ginger tea,” the man says, getting a small jar from a cupboard, “It’s been quite a bit since I’ve had the opportunity to make some.”

Danyal doesn’t quite trust it, still watching the man warily. He doesn’t understand why they would welcome him into their house, Batman or no, he was a threat to them. He was nothing but a threat.

“How about something to eat?”

Danyal watches the man move over to the fridge.

Something moves in his peripheral and his eyes jump to the side.

Narrowed eyes comb over the fancy china case against the wall. But he can’t see anything odd. The glass is clear, refracted reflection shining back him over the china. A dark phone sitting on the ledge. Dark wood pressed against the wall. He doesn’t know what he saw.

Alfred sets a small plate down in front of him with a light clatter, immediately turning back as the tea kettle begins to screech.

The movement makes a small carrot tumble off, rolling across the counter to Danyal.

He stares at it.

He breathes in, out, in out, in out in out too fast. Too fast-

A finger rolls to a stop in front of him and he can only stare at it as strong arms grip and pull him back, keeping him restrained.

Granite counters blend until they are stone floors.

He can’t look away from it. Confusion bleeds in with denial and regret and bloodthirsty stubbornness.

“Look at me, boy.”

Danny’s head is jerked back by his hair, forcing his eyes up to his instructor.

The man glares down at him.

“I have taught warriors better than you by a thousand, and you dare to try to escape under my hand?”

Danny tries to grin, barely managing a crude sneer, coppery blood in his teeth, “You should have kept a better eye on me, you fucking nutcase.”

His eyelid flicks closed automatically as cold gunmetal rests against it.

“Say that again.”

Danny swallows his regret, in for a penny in for a pound. He juts his chin up, forcing the man to follow the movement with his gun.

“What, were you dropped as a bab-” His open eye strains to see his instructor’s thumb press down the hammer of the gun. A warning.

He can feel his hands shake under the assassins hold. His throat burns.

“You scared of a chil-?” He barely has time to register the hand moving before the butt of the gun slams into his nose with a sickening crack.

Pain floods his face. He gets half a shout out before his chin is grabbed by unforgiving hands.

He stares into the man’s cold eyes.

Danny says nothing. Too focused on trying to breathe when his nose is filling with blood and his mouth is clamped nearly shut.

“Better.”

He resists the urge to spit in the man’s face as he steps back, straightening and waving a hand to the assassins. Even without their hands on him he can feel their presence looming behind him.

Danny drops his head, curling in on himself as much as he can, trying to ignore the feeling of blood as it slides down his face.

His eyes are left to stagnate on the finger thrown to the ground in front of him.

Pale skin stands stark against dark floors, contrasted by blood and dirt marring it. He can see the calluses and small scars.

He doesn’t understand.

He might.

He doesn’t want to.

“You are not the only one I can punish to get my point across, boy.”

He looks closer at the finger. At the nicks of careless knives and tools, of a hand that had cradled- no- please no-

“The oaf was very insistent it be him.”

Danny snaps his head up, fear striking through his chest, “No! Please-“ he catches himself, “Please don’t hurt them! They don’t- Hurt me, just me! They don’t deserve it, they didn’t do anything-!”

Sharp eyes stab into him. Fury behind them.

“Hurt me, Master Shrike, just me. Please.”

There’s a pause as the man continues to stare down at him before he lifts one lip in a sneer, “Do you think you command me, child?”

Danny freezes, “I don’t- I- No, Master. I don’t.”

“Then why,” Shrike near growls, “Do you beg me? Why do you plead like you have a right to ask for anything?”

“I don’t-” 'I don’t understand,' he starts to say but he’s cut off by Shrike’s boot hitting his face. He’s learned by now when not to dodge. He can’t give them another reason to hurt his family.

A second kick lands.

“You will be quiet!”

Danny waits for a beat, then slowly pulls himself up from the floor, not lifting his eyes.

He can still see his father’s finger on the floor.

“You do not command me. You are a tool! A weapon in the Demon’s hand! I choose to act, to punish or break you! You do not act, do not speak until you are to be used!”

Danyal stays silent.

He wants to scream, to fight back, they train him and they train him but he can’t fight back because if he does- his eyes flick to the bloodied finger.

He can let them. For his family, he can let them call him a weapon, can let them say he has no will. He can do this one thing.

He’s not giving up, he tells himself. But for his family’s safety, he can let them think he is. Just this once.

Danny stops, eyes shutting for just a second as he bends into a kneel, holding his hands up in front of him.

There’s a pause, cruel satisfaction radiating off the man in front of him.

Danyal licks his lips, steeling himself, “I am ready for my lesson,” Danny forces the words out, “Master Shrike.”

He doesn’t bother to look up and see the man’s sneer.

“Good.”

He sees the kick coming.

He still doesn’t move.

He stays still.

The world moves around him. Voices. Muttering. The sound of dishes, water being poured.

There’s a carrot.. orange and bright in front of him.

His heart is beating too fast. His eyes sting.

Calm down. Control it. Control it. Stop, stop-

A tea cup clatters in front of him.

“Sir Danyal, are you quite alright?” He hears someone ask. Alfred. It’s Alfred. Batman’s butler. He’s not-

He tries to speak, ‘I’m fine’ he tries to say. But his throat constricts. He simply nods, staring down at the carrot.

A freaking carrot.

It’s ridiculous.

He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s. Fine.

Danyal takes a deep breath. He breathes out. Silently.

He does it again.

He holds it until his heart slows down, stops stuttering from beat to beat.

He breathes out.

He reaches for the tea, ignoring the eyes on him-always watching him- ignoring the way his hands shake.

He drinks the tea. Let’s it burn his throat and distract him.

He breathes.

Alfred does not turn to look at him. Staying busy at the sink with dishes that already look clean.

He is thankful.

He breathes.

Low murmurs fill impenetrable silence. Danyal drags his eyes over to the small TV.

His breath stops.

A banner of words crawls across the bottom of the screen.

‘DalvCo factories shutting down after mass destruction.’

He tries to tear his eyes away.

‘Four buildings exploded just after midnight on Saturday in downtown Chicago, Elmerton, and Red Lake. 12 workers dead. Police have not caught the perpetrators.’

And they won’t.

Danyal can recognize a message.

He knows what it means. Who is sending it.

He tries not to let it show how his mind begins spinning. Churning out plans and strategies- If an attempt had cost his father a finger, what would they do to them now, because of Danyal?- he had to fix this.

He looks down to his shaking hands. He stops them. And the tea in his cup stills.

He stops. Pauses. He eyes Alfred still at the sink without looking up.

He places it just on the edge of the counter. Then turns away and lets go.

The cup falls.

It shatters against the floor. Danyal jumps up from his seat at the same time Alfred turns around.

“What’s happened?” He says, already hustling over with a towel. “Are you hurt?”

Danyal steps away and around him, towards the door.

He almost bumps into the display case until the reflection of light off the phone catches his eye. A small ballet sticker sits on the back of the case.

His hand moves before he can think and slips it into his pocket. He looks at Alfred.

“It’s no trouble, Young Danyal,” Alfred says as he crouches over where Danyal had been sitting, “I’ll clean this up and get you more. You can help me prepare for breakfast-“

Danyal considers knocking him out, so he can’t stop him, or alert anyone, but a body is more suspicious. Instead he paints his face with fear and steps out of the room as quick as he can.

He turns down the hallway, trying to remember where he’d walked from the cave.

Mere hours ago.

He goes the opposite direction, following a halls as far to the outer edges of the mansion as he can, typing in Vlad’s number with nervous hands as he goes.

He makes a final turn before he opens a window, glances backwards, and jumps out.

He lands in a roll, already running. His finger presses call and he listens to the phone ringing as he runs.

Once. Twice. He swipes branches out of his way. Three times. Four. Five. Six.

‘We’re sorry the number-‘

Danyal hangs up and presses again.

He doesn’t stop running.

He just has to protect them. He has to warn Vlad. Warn whoever he can. Tell someone.

It rings again. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. Six- ‘We’re sorr-‘

Danyal presses it again and runs faster.

If he can get caught by the League maybe Ra’s will overlook it. Maybe he can still protect them. He can fix this. Please just let him fix this.

‘We’re s-‘

He tries again.

And Danyal continues rushing through the woods, wishing his feet would carry him faster, further, higher-

The sound of his steps pounds in his ears. The phantom feeling of eyes on his back.

He slams his finger down on Vlad’s number again, letting the dial tone drown his heartbeat out.

Once. Twice. Three times, Frick! Vlad pick up! Four- the speakerphone clicks.

“Vlad!”

There’s barely a pause, “DANNY!?”

Danny nearly trips, his heart stuttering dangerously, hopefully.

“Dani?…” He says, then jolts to his senses and continues running, a glance thrown behind him, “Dani, how do you have Vlad’s phone, are you okay? Have you been to Amity?”

“Danny, where the hell are you!? I’ve been looking all over for-“

“Dani, you have to listen okay, there’s dangerous people after me- after us-“ Danyal jumps another log, scaling a small stone wall, “You can’t fight them, you have to run, they’ve got my family, Tuck, Sam-“

“Danny wait no listen to me-!”

“You can’t fight them! You can’t, okay!?” Danny scans his eyes back and forth frantically as he runs, mind spinning, calculating how he’s going to get out, away, controlling his heart rate as much as he can, “You have to promise me! Just find Vlad, get out of Amity. Warn him- I couldn’t - my parents- you have to-“

“Danny, listen to me!” Dani yells, stopping him in his tracks.

“Your parents are out, Danny,” She says, voice rushed, but his ears barely hear it. “They escaped, they called us weeks ago to start looking for you- Danny, they’re out.”

She goes quiet. Waiting for Danny.

His parents were-

Danny draws in a deep breath, standing stock still in the middle of the trees, stolen phone still pressed to his ear.

He couldn’t believe it.. they were-

Something clangs against a tree behind him and Danyal whips around ready to-

His head blossoms with pain.

Everything goes dark.

This is included in my one-shot collection(for now) on Ao3, under same name. The collection is Things that Could Exist by Snaileer.

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/snaileer/760212137159294976/call-to-my-bedside-3?source=share

Tags:

@thecrystallabyrinth @isnt-that-grape @riverdancingwerewolves @mimblizzy @chaos-deimos-et-eris @miraculousandmore2 @mys-tia @jitteryjuttury @moonlight-opal @nerdypaintbrush @thedragonqueen1998 @luminanightfall @cowarddragon @cyrwrites @kamireadsmcu

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hungriesttable · 11 months ago

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this post is MY “oh man…this doin numbers”. while I have you all here anyone want to hear my thoughts on Out(interrupted by loud foghorn, signaling the breach of an abnormality)

(for those of you interested in hearing some of my Outis thoughts, check the tags. for those not, go in peace 🙏)

one of my favorite things about Dante Limbus Company is that they achieve a level of what I will call “sogginess” rarely seen in the wild (source material), more commonly seen in captivity (fanfiction)…

The insecurity. The inability to understand that they have a positive impact on others without being told outright. The sad, resigned self-deprecation. “I know it’s the same tired old face for you…but here I am” when you re-select them as an announcer (a line which you are literally incapable of seeing during gameplay). The “you guys only love me for my clock 😞” mentality.

Dante wouldn’t ask, “would you still love me if I were a worm?”, because they’d be afraid of a resounding NO.

Not to say Dante doesn’t have their satisfying moments of asserting themselves as manager, but man. What a creature

#I’ve seen people saying that her military mindset gets old after a while #and because of that she’s not that appealing to them #which in theory I get. I think that’s how I feel about Faust a lot of the time #(ie I feel like I see less of her being lame/soggy than the other sinners. but maybe I’m just not paying enough attention)#(but I digress)#BUT I feel like Outis is pretty interesting because a) I have to speculate a lot and b) she does seem pretty lame (positive) in her interact #ions with other sinners #or even the one with Dongrang in Canto IV #her being exceptionally dejected when she can’t play the role of captain in Canto V #whether or not that’s an act it is so fascinating that she got all slumpy and sad before leaving #for all the things she’s said to disparage the abilities of other sinners she did seem somewhat put out about not having their respect #not to mention the Sunshower awakening and corrosion lines.#-> I don’t need…any pointless attention! vs Don’t leave me alone this time (I don’t remember the corrosion verbatim unfortunately)#(but still. my soggy old woman in a fox raincoat)#I think that Outis’ unctuous-ness towards Dante seems like the focal point of their relationship to a lot of people #but even what she says to them in Canto V makes me wonder #is there an extent to which she sympathizes with them?#I mean in Canto IV we see that she doesn’t think especially highly of their abilities #but is there some respect in which she sees them as a legitimate authority figure?#of course with G Corp Outis’ experience of being scapegoated one assumes she has some degree of skepticism towards military hierarchies #I just think it’s also interesting to consider that-#-in addition to just currying favor with her boss she is performing what she sees as her role (supporting her superior)#I don’t even know if this is something super obvious that everyone already agrees on #but local man got a lot of notes for saying things so now he feels like saying things. In Tags #outis lcb #the fact that the Outis canto will be towards the end of the game…stares with my huge orbs #although if Rodya Gregor and Sinclair do actually get elaborated on #maybe Outis won’t get her canto at the End of the game’s lifetime #ok I’m about to discuss how I don’t know how gacha games work #so I think it’s time to stop

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freshlove-sturn · 4 months ago

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texts w bsf!chris

<- previous, part 6, next ->

continuation of part 5!!

nick goes to open the back drivers side door of the car, before chris quickly places his hand over the door handle.

“you can sit in front again, i wanna sit with y/n.” chris suggests, trying to sound casual but the hint of desperation in his voice is apparent to all of us.

nick raises an eyebrow, “you’re actually ridiculous chris” he shakes his head before walking around to the other side and sitting up front.

i smile almost teasingly at chris, a pink tinge becoming present on his cheeks.

“you want aux?” chris asks.

“no, i’m okay with whatever yall want to play.” i tell him.

“you sure?” he asks again, just to be sure.

“chris this is literally like suffocating.” matt pipes up, peering back at us through the rear view mirror.

“i’m just making sure.” chris defends.

chris and i have always had a flirty friendship, but lately i’ve noticed a new intensity to it all. it’s like every time i turn around he’s there, primed and ready with a new excuse to be close to me. it seems like the entire dynamic of our friendship was changing right in front of me.

but i wouldn’t call it a bad change.

while he used to casually brush his hand against mine, or throw out a teasing, flirty comment here and there, he now finds every excuse to touch me- whether that be his knee pressed against mine whenever we sit next to eachother, much like right now as he sits beside me, occasionally stealing glances at me, or moving past me with his hand pressed against the small of my back.

he takes any chance he can get to compliment me, telling me how pretty i am, that i’m smart, talented, even things as random as he likes the way i look in green.

and then of course, the way he looks at me.

he has a longing eyes that weren’t there in boston, like he’s trying to tell me something without words.

i’d be lying if i said i didn’t love every part of it.

we pull up to the restaurant and matt throws the car in park. chris opens the door for me, of course, extending out his hand for me to take in assistance.

“i can’t remember if i told you already, but you look really nice y/n.” matt remarks, a warm smile playing on his lips.

“thanks.” i smile, accepting the compliment.

i glance over at chris, his jaw slightly clenches at the compliment. i brush my fingers against his to ease the tension.

once we enter the restaurant, the host escorts us to our seats. chris’s hand planted on the small of my back, guiding me.

we get sat in a booth and chris slides in next to me. his legs brushes against mine under the table, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. the soft hue of the overhead lights casting a warm hue on chris’s features, illuminating them perfectly.

chris’s arm drapes casually on the back of the booth, his fingers grazing my shoulder gently. it’s a small gesture, but it feels so intimate, almost as if he’s taking a silent claim over me. i try focusing on the menu, but it’s almost impossible with him this close.

“what’re you thinking about getting?” chris leans down to speak to me, his breath warm against my ear with the close proximity.

“i actually don’t know. this is the biggest menu ive ever seen in my life.” i laugh, glancing around at the endless options.

“i recommend the alfredo, just sayin” he suggests with a casual shrug.

“you always recommend alfredo.” i roll my eyes playfully.

“and it’s always the best thing.” chris defends.

“actually, it doesn’t sound half bad.” i admit.

“see? what did i tell you?” he says confidently. earning another eye roll from me.

a little while after we take our order, our food arrives.

as we eat and talk casually amongst ourselves, matt interrupts the conversation.

“oh y/n, you kinda got something right there.” he gestures to the corner of my mouth. “here i got it.” he leans over the table with a napkin, gently wiping the sauce from my face.

“oh thank you.” i murmur, feeling slightly flustered from the interaction, but i shake it off when i notice chris’s sudden change in demeanor. he goes quiet for the first time tonight, i give his hand a gentle squeeze under the table.

was he jealous of matt?

surely not. why would he be? matt is his brother, and im his best friend.

his friend.

and that was it.

after dinner, the drive home was painfully quiet. you could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

now chris and i sit silently in his bed. i excuse myself to go take a shower, in hopes that maybe he would get over whatever had his so pissed off by the time i was done.

“i’m gonna go shower.” i stand up, grabbing a pair of pajamas out of my suitcase.

“k.” chris replies coldly.

i stop myself from saying anything, i didn’t want to argue with him.

…

i walk back into chris’s room, and sit back in his bed. chris had turned on netflix, and was watching love island.

“watcha watching?” i ask, desperate to break the silence.

“what’s it look like?” he responds sarcastically.

i was done holding my tongue, “chris what is your problem? why are you so mad?” i ask, my patience finally snapping.

“maybe next time you want to gawk over my brother, don’t do it in front of me.” he snaps back.

“are you serious?” i scoff. “that’s what this is about? matt wiping sauce off my face?”

“you’re fully capable of doing it yourself, no?” chris retorts.

“you’re acting as if i asked him to do that, he was just being nice.” i defend, my voice tinged with frustration.

as i sit there, facing chris, a whirlwind of thoughts race through my mind. i can’t believe we were arguing about something as trivial as matt wiping sauce off my face. it seemed so insignificant, yet chris was clearly upset. i can’t help but feel a mix of frustration and confusion. why is he making such a big deal out of this? does he seriously think i have any control over matt's actions?

deep down, i wonder if theres more to chris's reaction. is he really that jealous? the idea of that seems almost absurd, but there’s no denying the intensity in his eyes. i try to push the thought away, focusing instead on defending myself. i hadn't done anything wrong. matt was just being nice, and it felt unfair to be blamed for something so innocent.

yet, despite my in doubtable irritation, a small part of me couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. if chris actually is jealous, does that mean he cares more than he lets on? was the flirty behavior more than just chris being typical chris? the thought is both thrilling and terrifying. i don’t want to read too much into it, but the possibility lingered in the back of my mind, adding another layer of complexity to our already tangled relationship.

chris’s expression softens when he sees the frustration in my eyes. he sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“i’m sorry.” he says quietly. “i overreacted. it’s just, shit, i don’t know. maybe i’m just jealous.” he admits.

“chris you don’t have to be jealous.” i tell him.

he looks at me, eyes full of sincerity. “yeah i know, i just care about you, a lot and sometimes it just gets the best of me.”

a small smile tugs on my lips. “i care about you too chris. more than you know.”

“but, can you just promise me you’ll talk to me when things bother you before you go an be a dick about it?” i tease, extending my pinky out to him.

“i promise.” he laughs, interlocking his pinky with mine.

a/n: sorry i didn’t know how to really end this LMAO. i don’t really know how to feel about this part tbh. PLEASE lmk your thoughts/ what you would like to see in future parts. my requests are ALWAYS open and highly appreciated and encouraged.

taglist: @conspiracy-ash @pouring-rains @aniesvision @sturniolo-fann @mattttypooh @sarosfilms @oliviasturniolo21 @le4hsblog @stonermattsgf @fratbrochrisgf @sassysturniolo2008 @creamoncreamoncream2 @st7rnioioss @chrizzysturns @lisask8s @mattnchrisworld @sturnioloblues @spencerstits @chrisstopherfilmed @sturnzsun

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #chrissturnioloxreader #nick sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolos

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stevie-petey · 6 months ago

Text

episode two: the mall rats

Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.” “Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be. It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.

Summary: dreams are weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, allusions to violence, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 13.2k

Before you swing in: hello !!! new chapter, i am so sorry for the wait :/ the end of the semester has been killer and ive been super busy with my lab job (i present at a conference friday ... pray for me). heres chapter 2, she somehow ended up being 13k words but lets ignore that for my own sanity !

There are dandelions all around you.

Their puffs of white surround you as the seeds dance in the air and settle atop of your head and tickle your cheek. They’re soft, reminiscent of the snow that encases you every winter in Hawkins and the days you used to chase Jonathan around in his backyard.

You’re barefoot in a field that you can’t quite place. The grass below you skims against your ankles as the dandelion seeds float towards the tops of the green. It’s a familiar landscape, something tells you that you’ve been here before, and the thought is almost reassuring to you.

The sun is warm against you and there’s someone in the distance. You open your mouth to call out to them, they feel as familiar as the landscape before you does, but when you try to speak, the dandelion seeds begin to swarm into your mouth. The puffs of white seem to turn into daggers in your throat as they cut your tongue and slice inside you as you struggle to breathe.

You try to scream, but nothing comes out. The dandelions now draw blood as they continue their malicious attack on you. You claw at your mouth and cower in the field, trying to flee from what’s attacking you, but the dandelions only follow as you try to call after the figure you saw in the distance.

Stumbling blindly through the grass, panic stricken and longing for the person who had once been at the top of the hill, your foot catches on a root and suddenly you’re falling. This time, you do scream, and the dandelion seeds spill from your mouth as you fall into an endless abyss.

“Y/N!” Your eyes fly open and your body shoots from your bed; you almost head butt Dustin in the process. He flinches back, startled by your violent reaction, and he puts his hands up in surrender and backs away. “Geesh, I was just trying to wake you up.”

It takes you a few moments to process that you are, in fact, awake. Your heartbeat is still pounding rapidly in your throat. You can still feel the dandelion seeds on your tongue and the millions of little cuts they left behind.

Dustin stares at you with slight concern in his eyes and you clear your throat, trying to rid the memory of your dream. That’s all it was. A dream.

Clearing your throat again, you try to calm yourself down. “Why are you in my room?”

“Like I said, I was trying to wake you up.” Your brother says as if you’re an idiot.

“But why?”

“Did you bang your head or something last night?” He gives you an odd look and you glare at him. “Cerebro caught a Russian code, remember? You promised we’d see Steve today to talk about it!”

You rub your eyes, exhausted. It’s taking longer than usual for your mind to wake up and process everything. “I know, I know… What time is it?”

“Eight, now get up and go get pretty for Steve so we can discuss how to become American heroes.” Dustin crosses his arms, silently daring you to argue.

“There was so much wrong with that sentence,” you groan, but reluctantly throw your blankets off of you and start pulling out random shorts and a t-shirt to wear. “You’re lucky it’s the weekend and I don’t work today.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Dustin mocks you, tossing you a white t-shirt and removing the red one from your hands. “Steve likes you in white, now hurry up.”

Your mouth drops in shock, but your brother simply rolls his eyes at you and leaves your room so that you can get dressed.

“How does he even know that?” You whisper to yourself, now alone in your room.

–

Dustin bikes ahead of you as you make your way to Joyce’s store in Downtown Hawkins. He had complained when you told him that you needed to make a pitstop there before going to the mall.

“I haven’t seen Steve in a month!”

“And Mrs. Byers is close to losing her job at Melvald’s, so you can wait the extra five minute detour it takes to deliver her muffins to cheer her up.”

Your brother had tried to argue some more, but you simply shoved a fresh baked muffin in his mouth and began to bike away.

Now, as the two of you head towards Downtown, the early morning air fills your lungs and slowly wakes you up. It’s quiet, Hawkins isn’t quite awake yet in the early hour. Only the bees buzzing past your ear seem to be lively.

You watch Dustin up ahead and briefly marvel at how much bigger he seems to have gotten in the month he was away at camp. He looks older, more mature, no longer the baby brother your mom brought home fourteen years ago.

As you’re lost in your reminiscence, you almost miss the figure that stumbles along the side of the road.

“Dustin!” You yell at the boy, weary of whoever is up ahead. “Stop!”

He hears the fear in your voice and screeches his bike to a halt. Turning around, he checks to make sure you’re okay. “Did something happen?”

You stop next to him and discreetly point at the figure a few yards away. It seems to be a boy, maybe a teen your age, but he’s walking as if he’s in immense pain. “You see that?”

“Yeah,” Dustin squints and also seems unnerved by the person’s appearance. “Think it’s anything dangerous?”

“I don’t know…” Something feels familiar about the person. Their hair, the way it’s styled, reminds you of someone. You squint as well, your eyes catch on the person’s leather jacket and the expensive brand, there’s a faint outline of cigarettes in the pocket, and the sight fills your nose with the smoke that once choked you last winter. “I think it’s Billy.”

“Why is he walking on the side of the road?” Dustin makes a face. “I know he has a car, the bastard almost ran me and the party over on Halloween.”

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to understand why you feel this tug within you to get closer to the teen. Billy is cruel, he is horrible, and the bruises he left on your neck took weeks to fully fade away. Yet there’s a concern within you as you watch him stumble, as if in some daze, and it's this worry that solidifies your decision. “Stay here.”

“What–” Dustin turns and sees that you’ve gotten back on your bike and are now pedaling towards Billy. “Y/N! Are you insane?”

“Stay here!” You order, not really understanding why you’re doing this either. “Just… Wait for my signal!”

Dustin curses, not at all liking this plan, but he listens. He tightens his grip on his bike’s handlebar and makes sure you never leave his line of sight in case you need him for backup.

As you approach Billy, you make sure to circle widely around him so that he sees you coming, before finally facing in front of him. You brake a few feet away from him, incredibly nervous for how he may react. You haven’t spoken to him since last winter, he had kept his promise to Max to leave you alone.

Billy barely seems to register that you’re in front of him. He stops as if he’s in a trance and blinks slowly at you. You notice the cut on his forehead, how there’s still fresh blood dripping from it, and something within you wants to tend to the wound. Then you notice the grime that covers his face and his jacket, and you begin to worry even more.

As you’re eying his disheveled appearance, Billy opens his mouth, and the action looks as if it takes all the energy within him to do so. “S–sweetheart?”

“Are you okay?” You ignore the nickname he gave you that makes your skin crawl. You’re more worried about his appearance. He’s sweating like crazy, almost as if he’s on drugs, and he’s paler than normal. His California tan is gone, his eyes are glazed over, he looks as if he isn’t really here with you right now.

It scares you. You’ve never seen him like this.

“‘M fine,” Billy slurs. He seems… off. More drawn into himself now, less sure of himself. Scared, even. It’s a strange sight to see: Billy Hargrove, alone and frightened, in the early morning of June. “I… I’m fine.”

His slurred words aren’t reassuring, and a part of you wants to offer him a ride on your bike. You assume he’s heading to the local pool to lifeguard, you know it’s where he spends most of his days, but you have Dustin with you and you’re still nervous around Billy.

The wounds he gave you may have healed, but some nights, when the nightmares are really bad, you wake up to his hands around your throat.

It feels wrong just leaving Billy like this, though. He’s still human, Max has slowly opened up to you about her abusive stepdad and the way he punches her brother. You know that Billy’s actions come from his hurt, but you don’t think you’re ready yet to forgive him. Not now, at least.

Reluctantly, you sigh and wave your hand to indicate to Dustin that he’s fine to start biking over. Billy doesn’t seem like a threat right now in his current state. When you see your brother start to pedal closer, you look back at Billy. “Listen, I know we aren’t… friends.”

Billy stares blankly at you, and you really hope that he can understand what you’re saying right now.

“But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?” You tell him, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm as you speak. However, when your skin makes contact with his, you flinch at how cold he is.

Before you can say anything else, Dustin finally catches up and brakes softly next to you. He looks nervously between you and Billy. “So… Uh. Ready to go, Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You pull away from Billy, your fingers almost numb from his cold skin, and spare him one last glance as you start to bike away. “Remember what I said, okay?”

Billy doesn’t say anything.

You and Dustin leave him stranded on the side of the road.

Neither one of you talk about this.

–

As usual, Downtown Hawkins is deserted when you and Dustin arrive at Melvald’s. The only two cars parked in front of the rundown store belong to Joyce and Hopper.

You hop off your bike and park it in the bike rack before carefully untying the container of muffins from the back. Dustin is slumped on top of his bike, silently complaining, and you wave a stern finger at him. “Wait here, okay? This will only take five minutes, I promise.”

“I’m telling Steve that you’re cheating on him with Mrs. Byers.”

“Not cheating if we aren’t together,” you quip, before opening the door to the store.

When you step inside the store, you’re greeted with Hopper obnoxiously yelling and jumping around as Joyce laughs and claps for him. Curious, you carefully side step the grown man and make your way over to the woman.

“Y/N!” Joyce lights up even more when she sees you, and then lets out a small cheer when she sees that you’re holding one of your signature baked goods containers. “Are those for me?”

“Always, Mrs. Byers.” You grin at her and set the container down. “They’re the muffins you really liked last week, thought I’d bake a special batch just for you.”

Hopper now joins you at the store’s counter in front of Joyce. He’s practically vibrating with his excited energy, so much so that he even smiles at you and claps a hand behind your back. “Kid, it’s like you knew we’d be celebrating a monumental occasion today.”

“What, did Jonathan finally wash his bedsheets?”

Joyce shakes her head and Hopper claps again, now grasping your shoulders and shakes you around. “No, even better! I got Mike out of my house!”

Through Joyce, you had learned all about Hopper’s utter disdain of Mike’s relationship with El. He has spent every day at their cabin since getting together, and even you have had to pry the girl away from Mike a few times to hang out with her. It’s hard bonding with El when Mike is breathing down your neck.

You’re all for young love, you think they’re adorable together, but christ. You understand Hopper’s frustration.

“Actually,” you’re still being shaken by the man. “That does sound better. How’d ya do it?”

Hearing your question, Hopper thankfully stops shaking your shoulders and now happily points at Joyce. “It was all her. I’m the puppet, she’s the master. Joyce gave me a brilliant script to say to the kid.”

“So you remembered everything?” Joyce asks, now unwrapping one of your muffins with glee.

“Yeah… well,” Hopper pauses. “I mean, I had to improvise a little bit, you know?”

You wince. “Oh, that’s never good.”

He glares at you but continues to explain. “It turns out that getting to Mike was the key.”

His words only make you wince again, and you look at Joyce. She meets your eye and the two of you silently agree that something doesn’t sound right here. She questions Hopper further. “And you didn’t yell at him?”

Hopper hesitates, which you expected. “I’ll… tell you everything over dinner.”

“Okay!” You step in between the adults and wave your arms out, preventing whatever else is about to be said. “I’m still here, let’s remember that.”

The chief glares at you again and narrows his eyes. “You’re right, you are still here. Why are you still here?”

“Because Mrs. Byers loves me and I baked her delicious muffins.” You deadpan, which Joyce chuckles at. “And while I’m sure whatever she told you to say to Mike was lovely, I have my doubts that you actually listened.”

“She’s got a point, Hop.” Joyce voices.

Hopper sighs at you both. “Okay, maybe I said some things, haven’t told El the whole truth, but what else was I supposed to do?”

“Not lie to kids?” Crossing your arms, you make a face at the man.

“Easy for you to say, little miss Hawkins’ sweetheart.” Hopper scoffs at you. “Got any better advice?”

You roll your eyes at his words. You understand that the man is still grappling with being a father again, he’s never been one to handle feelings any better, so you spare him some pity and try to be honest with him, say what he needs to hear. “Look, all I’m saying is that the best thing my deadbeat father ever did was teach me kindness, and it broke my heart when he was dishonest in the end. Just, don’t be that way with El, okay?”

Hopper is quiet as your words hang in the air.

Joyce is quiet as well, looking between you and the chief with a fondness in her eyes. It’s not often she sees someone render Hopper speechless, and she knows that it’s one of the many things she loves the most about your relationship with him. Though she would never tell you this, she thinks that Hopper secretly has his own fondness for you as well.

When the silence stretches for an uncomfortably long amount of time, you clear your throat and change the subject. “Well! This was fun, happy we did this.”

Hopper snorts, relieved you’re moving on as well. “Get lost, kid.”

“Gladly.” You turn back to Joyce and press a swift kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Byers!”

Joyce says goodbye as well, and when you’ve left the store, she faces Hopper with a slight smirk. “She’s a good kid, Hop.”

“She is,” he agrees, looking down at his shoes. He will never admit this to anyone else, but to Joyce he knows his words are safe. “She’s the best of ‘em.”

–

When you finally get to the mall, Dustin basically dumps his bike in a spot next to a disgruntled older couple and runs before you can even slow down. He’s so lost in his excitement to see Steve as he runs towards Scoops and leaves you to deal with his bike and the couple alone, which you groan at.

“He acts like it’s been a year,” you grumble, finally hopping off your own bike to grab Dustin’s and secure them both to a nearby rack. After mumbling a quick apology to the couple your brother practically threw a bike at, you run after him inside.

By the time you catch up, Dustin has just entered Scoops and is talking to Robin. You approach, curious to see how this event will unfold. Robin hasn’t met your brother yet, and you have a feeling that his abrasive nature will either make her his biggest fan or absolutely hate him.

It’s the Henderson charm, really.

“I’m Dustin,” your brother introduces himself as you come to stand next to him. When he notices your arrival, he motions towards you and winks at Robin. “I’m sure Y/N has told you all about me.”

Robin raises her eyebrows at the kid, and you try to cover a giggle with a cough. “I’m Robin. I’m sure Y/N has told you a lot about me.”

“I probably have,” shrug, knowing you always talk about the people you love. When Robin and Dustin both look at you with confused faces, you quickly clarify, “I’ve talked about you both, I mean.”

“Can we cut the chit chat?” Dustin asks, now annoyed by how long this conversation is taking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Robin, but uh. Is he here?”

“Is who here?” Robin looks over at you for help, but before you can prepare her for the inevitable storm of Steve’s bizarre and endearing friendship with Dustin, the older teen’s body comes crashing through the backdoor and his sneakers squeak loudly against the tile.

“Hendersons!” Steve raises his arms in the air in greeting, an ecstatic smile on his face when he sees both you and Dustin standing in Scoops Ahoy. You and your brother start to laugh as Steve now dances around, cheering and gleeful. “You’re both here! Little Henderson is back!”

“I’m back!” Dustin cheers. “And you got the job!”

Steve is beaming and his smile is probably one of the happiest you’ve seen cross his pretty face. He had complained about missing Dustin the entire month he had been gone, moaning and groaning about how he was bored at your house now that he didn’t have Dustin to shoo away.

“I got the job!” Steve mimes playing the trumpet before he starts his intricate and dumb handshake with Dustin.

It’s a complicated process, with fist bumps and pretend lightsaber death. They had come up with it during a particularly boring snow day at your house. You watched as they thought up the handshake while you made cocoa for everyone, heart swelling as Steve was so patient with your brother and encouraged his nerdy little habits.

It had taken them almost the entire day to create what they deemed “the perfect handshake”, and as they go through it once more in Scoops Ahoy, you feel the same swelling in your chest as you did the very first time you saw them come up with the handshake.

While you gaze fondly at Dustin and Steve, Robin stands next to you and watches in horror. As Steve pretends to spew his guts everywhere, the girl leans over to you and says, “Is this what you deal with every day?”

“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile softly at the two boys. You missed seeing them together, more than you thought you had.

Robin sees the dreamy look in your eyes as you stare at Steve and she gags. Unhappy with how this day is looking, she turns to him. “How many children are you friends with?”

Steve’s smile falls and he sighs in defeat. Wordlessly he points at Robin as he looks at Dustin and raises his eyebrows in an exasperated manner. He’s had to deal with Robin’s teasing all summer, and Dustin seems to catch onto what he’s trying to tell him, so he quickly changes the subject. “Sorry we got here so late, man. Y/N insisted on gossiping with Mrs. Byers before coming here.”

“I spoke with her for five minutes.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Yeah, five minutes too long.”

“Your breath reeks.”

“You have a pimple on your chin.”

You gasp and quickly cover your face. “I do not–”

“This is fascinating,” Robin whispers as she looks between you and Dustin. “It’s like there’s two Y/Ns.”

Steve, having heard Robin, laughs. His smile had returned to his face as he watched you interact with your brother. “They’re reunited for one day and are already at each other’s throats.”

“Got a month of insults to catch up on,” you flick Steve, who winces and rubs his nose, offended.

Dustin suddenly straightens up. “Speaking of catching up…” He looks at you and tries to subtly motion over at Steve, mouthing “Russians!”, and being everything but discrete.

Steve frowns, unsure what’s happening, but you’re too busy worrying about revealing anything to Robin; she’s scarily good at reading people. Looking wearily at her, you clear your throat and tug at Dustin’s shirt. “C’mon, why don’t we get some ice cream and tell Steve about what you built at camp?”

Again Steve frowns. He had been hoping to share a sundae with you, not talk about boring science stuff with your brother. “Why do I wanna hear about some weird nerd tech–”

“Because you promised me free ice cream last night, when we called.” You interrupt, silently pleading with him to catch onto what you’re saying. “Remember?”

Something shifts within Steve’s eyes and his carefree expression now darkens. He remembers the fear in your voice last night over the phone, how you had asked him to tell you stories to fall asleep to. Clearing his throat, Steve nods and plays along. “Oh, how could I forget? Take Dustin to your booth and I’ll whip up some sundaes.”

You smile at him, thankful as always for how attuned to you he is, before you say a quick goodbye to Robin and tug your brother over to where you normally sit. Once you’re sure Robin isn’t listening, you yank at the boy. “Real subtle back there, doofus.”

“Oh, like Robin would know what Russians could mean.” Dustin grumbles as he slides into your designated booth. His hand catches on something in the seat and he tugs at it, pulling out an old Captain America comic. Holding it up, he narrows his eyes at you. “You really made a home here, huh?”

“Sure did,” you prop your feet up and dig out the Spider-Man comic you had been reading a few days ago. “The ice cream is surprisingly good here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the ice cream is the reason you’re always here.” Dustin doesn’t even want to imagine how many hours you’ve spent in this cheesy ice cream parlor ogling over Steve. Maybe it’s a good thing he was gone most of the summer.

You flip to the last page you left off on and ignore Dustin’s insinuation. “Hey, free ice cream is free ice cream.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” Steve arrives and places down two giant sundaes onto the table. He slides next to you into the booth with a grand flourish. “Tada!”

Dustin wastes no time digging into his ice cream, making obnoxious noises as he shoves the food into his mouth. You cringe, disgusted that you’re related to him, but Steve kisses your cheek when the kid isn’t looking, and you can’t help but smile. Sneaking your own kiss to his cheek, you thank him. “You’re getting really good at whipping up sundaes, Steve.”

He preens at your praise. “It’s all in the forearms, ya know?” He makes a show out of rolling up his sleeves to show off his arms, which you giggle at with a slight flush on your face. Despite working inside all day, Steve has a nice sun kissed tan, which compliments how long his hair has gotten this summer.

Between his short Scoops Ahoy shorts and his hair streaked with sunlight, summer looks good on Steve.

In between bites of his ice cream, Dustin lifts his head up. “Quit talking about Steve’s arms and flirting in front of me, it’s gross.”

You fling a banana peel at him. “You’re the one too busy devouring his food to talk about anything else.”

“So you admit you’re flirting with me.” Steve teases, winking at you.

Dustin covers his eyes in disgust, forgetting about his ice cream entirely. “Seriously, stop it! You’re my sister, how would you feel if I flirted with Suzie in front of you?”

“I would–” You try to think of a response, but ultimately you deflate, unable to come up with anything. Frustratingly, you realize that the kid has a point; you’d be incredibly grossed out as well. “I would hate it.” You sigh, accepting defeat.

“Who’s Suzie?” Steve asks.

“Dustin’s girlfriend.” You say, popping a cherry into your mouth as you eagerly await the teen’s reaction to the girlfriend news.

As expected, Steve’s jaw drops and turns to your brother. No way the little twerp got a girlfriend before him this summer. “Girlfriend? Since when?”

“Met her at camp,” Dustin smirks at him, proud he’s surprised Steve. “She’s super hot, too. Hotter than Phoebe Cates.”

You roll your eyes at his insistence of referencing Suzie’s appearance, but Steve seems interested, although in disbelief as well. “No, no way. Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No.”

“Why is Phoebe Cates the gold standard?” You ask, unsure when she became everyone’s dream woman. All things considered, she’s incredibly attractive, but it’s weird that every boy you’ve spoken to about this universally finds her attractive. Steve finds her attractive, which you’re choosing not to think about because you don’t look anything like her.

Steve hears the slight bitterness in your tone and shuffles closer to you in the booth. Meanwhile, Dustin takes another bite out of his sundae and nods at him. “Mhm, she’s brilliant, too. She doesn’t even care that my real pearls are still coming in.”

“That’s great, Dustin!” You say, happy that your brother has found a girl who accepts him as he is. It’s sweet, really.

“I know, right?” He sits up straighter in the booth and smiles even wider. “She says kissing is better without teeth.”

You and Steve share a horrified look. Neither of you can believe what you’ve just heard, and you think a part of you died inside. Suddenly, the delicious sundae you’d been eating now turns to cement in your stomach at the thought of your little brother kissing a girl who enjoys his lack of teeth. “Oh, that’s… Yeah.”

“Wow!” Steve tries to mask his own horror and disgust, leaning even closer to you now to try and ground you as well. “Yeah, that’s… That’s great! Proud of you, man. That’s–That’s kinda romantic?”

Dustin basks in Steve’s praise and your disgust slowly melts away. Your brother genuinely seems happy to be with Suzie and even happier to tell Steve about it all. He won’t admit it, but you know he idolizes the teen. Steve’s word is like an oath to him, not even you have this much influence over the boy. If it were anyone else, you’d be offended and hurt, but seeing Steve flash Dustin a wink, you couldn’t have chosen anyone better for your brother to admire.

“So do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?” Dustin motions towards his half-eaten sundae before turning to you. “How much ice cream have you had this summer?”

“A lot,” you shrug, taking another bite of your own sundae.

Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”

“Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be.

It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.

Robin, from across the parlor, sees your sudden annoyance at Steve and calls out to him, “Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?”

“Ignore her,” Steve groans, not having the energy to deal with Robin’s quips and your anger being directed at him. He turns to you and lowers his voice. “I was kidding, Y/N. You know that–”

“Robin seems cool,” Dustin interrupts, not at all wanting to witness a lover’s feud between you and Steve. He left you two alone for a month, he thought he’d come back to you guys being an old married couple. Instead, he still has to suffer through your weird in between chaos.

You jump at the chance to gush about Robin, all while avoiding Steve’s pleading eyes. “She’s amazing. Genuinely one of the coolest people I know.”

“She’s not.” Steve corrects you, shaking his head. You roll your eyes at him and flick his ear, but as your hand lowers, he catches it with his and intertwines your fingers with a practiced ease. The action makes you blush and look away, still not ready to forgive him just yet. Steve sees the blush and feels your fingers tighten around his and he feels as if he can breathe again. There’s hope, at least. “So, where are the other knuckleheads?”

Dustin sighs. “They ditched me yesterday.”

“No,” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N, did they really?”

“They… Kinda did.” You wince, absentmindedly placing your other hand on top of the one Steve is holding. He smiles softly at the action, momentarily forgetting about what you've just told him.

“My first day back! Can you believe that shit?” Dustin’s hurt from last night returns, which only makes you feel worse.

Steve leans forward now, invested and equally as offended as the boy. “Seriously?”

“I swear to god,” Dustin pauses to take another bite of ice cream. “They’re gonna regret it, though, big time, when they don’t get to share in my glory.”

You drop your head onto the table and groan. “Is this really how you’re going to segue into the Russian thing?”

“You’re my sister. Why would you expect anything less of me?”

“Touche.” You lift your head back up and continue eating your ice cream. It’s the only thing keeping you going right now. Steve has learned how to make your sundaes perfect, adding the peach ice cream you adore with just the right amount of whipped cream.

Meanwhile, Steve has a confused look on his face as he looks between you and Dustin. “Glory? Russians? Did I miss something?”

Dustin smiles mischievously and lowers his voice as he slides closer to the teen. You roll your eyes at his antics, knowing that the conversation that’s about to unfold will only give you another headache. You missed Steve and Dustin being together, but you didn’t miss the way they seemed to double in stupidity when together.

Looking around to make sure he won’t be heard, Dustin begins to explain. “So, last night, as Y/N and I were trying to get in contact with Suzie…” He pauses, sees that Scoops Ahoy is now filling with more customers, and lowers his voice even more to an almost inaudible whisper and covers his mouth.

You and Steve both lean forward, unable to hear him. The teen asks Dustin to repeat himself while you sit there with slight amazement. You know what Dustin is trying to say, you’re more just surprised the kid can be so quiet. It’s a goddamn miracle, honestly.

Dustin inhales deeply and again tries to discreetly inform Steve of the Russian code, but his whispers are still too low to hear. Taking a final bite of your ice cream, you click your tongue at your brother. “You’re really killing it there, buddy.”

“Dude, just speak louder.” Steve’s curious interest is now more of an annoyance.

“I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” Dustin all but shouts, which causes you to practically throw yourself over the table to cover his mouth.

“Jesus fuck!” You look around and see everyone’s eyes on you, and with your hand still clamped firmly over your brother’s mouth, you clear your throat and laugh nervously. “I mean, haha. Pardon me.” The customers give you a weird look but turn away, though Robin continues to stare at you.

Steve gently removes your hand from Dustin’s mouth and once again intertwines his fingers with yours. “Jeez, okay. Yeah. That’s what I thought you said.”

“Did you have to yell?” You sneer at Dustin, still looking around nervously to make sure no one is paying too much attention to the three of you. While Hawkin’s Lab was overrun by Demodogs and every scientist within it died, you’re still terrified that they still have allies watching your every move.

Not that you think the Lab is responsible for Russians, but… Better safe than sorry.

Dustin rolls his eyes at you. “Your boyfriend is the one who couldn’t hear me.”

You’re about to correct him when Steve waves the boy off and goes back to the main topic. “What does any of that mean, though? The Russian code and whatever.”

“It means that we can never catch a break–”

“It means, Steve,” Dustin sends you a dirty look. “That we could be heroes. True American heroes.”

Steve seems into the idea and you want to scream. You hate the way Dustin is explaining all of this. “This could mean danger, guys.”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you and Steve smiles wearily. “I don’t know, Y/N. It doesn’t seem so bad, ya know? We’ve fought Demodogs, how bad could some Russians be?”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “The Demodogs were created by shifty government facilities. Why are we assuming Russia doesn’t have their own?”

“But… American heroes.” Steve looks heartbreakingly pathetic as he says this, and you realize now that his fixation on being seen as some hero stems from the hurt he still feels over his father. He hadn’t turned into who had expected to become, something that you know his father reminds him of every time he comes back from some business trip. You wish you could convince Steve that he’s more than what his father could ever expect him to be, but you know he wouldn’t listen.

With Steve’s pleading eyes looking at you, lost and hopeless, you can’t argue with him. Sighing, you accept that this is something he has to take part in, if only to rebuild his crumbling confidence. “Tell him what you’re thinking, Dustin.”

“Gladly.” Your brother wastes no time diving in, once more eager and excited to have the attention on him, and it’s only now that you realize he’s doing this for the same reason Steve is: they both feel abandoned and hurt. “We need your help.”

“With what?”

Dustin digs through his backpack and takes out the Russian dictionary he made you steal from work. He holds it up and shows it to Steve. “Translation.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he grabs the book to inspect it. There’s a new spark in his eyes, one that died the day his father told him he wouldn’t attend his graduation. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you exhale and slump in your seat. There’s no going back now. “I just want you both to know that I hate this plan and your excitement over it, but if I don’t help then you guys will somehow end up in a Russian gulag, and that would just be on me.”

Steve shares a look with Dustin, whose sigh reflects your own. “Glad you have faith in us, Y/N.”

–

It’s Steve's idea to work on the translation in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, and neither you or Dustin argue. Technically, he’s the only one who has any real responsibilities today with work and all, so it makes sense to stay at Scoops and hide out there.

Dustin sits at the table next to you as he replays the tape recording over and over again. Steve paces the room and eats a banana, claiming he needed “brain food” to focus on the complex Russian language. You sit with your head in your hands, trying desperately to hold onto the bizarre language that floats around the room.

After his tenth time replaying the code, Dustin pauses the recording and looks at you and Steve. “So, what do you guys think?”

“It sounded familiar.” Steve shoves a piece of banana into his mouth. You cringe at the obscene amount of food he tries to chew at once. Seeing your disgust, Steve waves the banana in your face and asks with a mouthful of food, “Wan sum?”

“It’s like you want me to hate you today,” you slap the banana away, which he chuckles at.

Dustin gets both of your attention again with slight annoyance. He didn’t miss the weird flirting between the two of you at all. “Guys, focus. What do you mean the recording sounds familiar?”

“The music,” Steve still speaks with his mouth full. “The music right there at the end.”

“Why are you listening to the music, Steve?” Dustin exclaims, exasperated.

As your brother berates Steve for his lack of Russian translating, you sit up in your seat processing what he’s just previously said. While you hadn’t thought much of it before, now that Steve has pointed it out, the music does sound familiar. You swear you’ve heard it somewhere before, but you can’t remember where or when. It’s a hazy memory, distant in your mind, yet right in front of you. It’s incredibly frustrating.

“I think Steve is onto something,” you say, but the two boys are too busy fighting to hear you.

“I’m trying to listen to the Russian but there’s music–”

Suddenly the back door swings open and Robin appears. She looks agitated after having to man the cash register all by herself while Steve hides out in the breakroom. “Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.” When she sees that you’ve erased her whiteboard and replaced her “you suck” columns with the Russian alphabet, her agitation only increases. “Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds.”

You get up from the table and walk up to the girl, feeling bad. While you aren’t sure what exactly her “you suck” column and tallies were for, it had been her creation that you had erased without thinking to ask. Plus, you really don’t want her seeing the Russian dictionary on the table. “I’m sorry, Robin–”

“Not you, Y/N. You’re not a shitbird,” she points over to Steve and Dustin. “Those two are shitbirds.”

“I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin interjects, a smug look on his face that makes you want to scream. He isn’t at all helping the situation.

Robin begins to walk over to the boys and you reluctantly follow. “Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?”

Dustin’s jaw drops and Steve almost chokes on his banana. Seeing their stunned reactions of Robin having figured out what you’ve been doing, you sigh in disappointment. They’re such idiots sometimes. They wrote Russian on the whiteboard, out in the open, and have been playing the recording out loud, full volume, on repeat.

Of course Robin caught onto what you were doing.

Which only makes your nervous body tense up even more. You hate that you have to lie to her, you’ve become really close with her during your visits to Scoops, but you don’t want to drag her into anything dangerous. You’re not sure what exactly any of this Russian code means, but Robin has been nothing but kind to you this summer, you truly care about her, and it would kill you if something were to happen because of you.

So, despite knowing how smart Robin is, you try to think of a cover story. “We were just interested in the language. Ya know, a summer hobby.”

“I can hear everything, Y/N.” Robin sees right through your lies. “Your idiotic brother and boyfriend are both extremely loud.”

“Steve isn’t my boyfriend–”

“You three think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do.”

You, Steve, and Dustin all look at one another in varying degrees of awe and despair.

Robin, seeing your stunned faces, smiles. “Sound about right?”

“How could you not know about the Russian alphabet, Y/N?” Dustin angrily whispers at you as if somehow it’s your responsibility to know the ins-and-outs of the language.

“Why would I–you know what, no.” You ignore your brother and turn to Robin, trying to alleviate the situation and prevent her from finding out anything else. She’s too fucking smart, it’s both admirable and aggravating. “Look, whatever you think you heard–”

Suddenly Robin lunges for the Russian dictionary on the table, but Steve’s quick reflexes enable him to grab the book before she can. “Woah! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanna hear it.” She juts her chin out in defiance, though you see the slightly hurt expression she tries to mask. She hates that you’re purposely excluding her and taking Steve’s side in this.

You wish you could tell her the truth.

“Why?” You ask in unison alongside Steve and Dustin.

“Because maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, ya know.”

Dustin perks up, now more open to the idea of Robin’s involvement. “Russian?”

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”

Steve and Dustin gasp, believing that they’ve just heard Robin say something in Russian, but you know better. One summer, when the party had been especially nosy and insisted on following you and Jonathan around, the two of you had learned pig latin in order to communicate without the twerps eavesdropping.

Learning against the table, you smirk at Robin. “Osay ouyay owknay igpay atinlay.”

“Holy shit!” Dustin gasps and Steve almost falls over with how quickly he looks at you in shock. Both boys stare at you in awe and you almost feel bad for their tiny little brains.

Robin can’t help but smile at you, you somehow always manage to surprise her. “Impressive, Y/N. Didn’t think you knew pig latin either.”

“That was pig latin?” Steve scrunches his face and hits your brother with his banana peel. “Idiot.”

“Steve, please don’t hit my brother with banana peels,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s only noon and you’re already exhausted from today’s events. “But yes, that was pig latin.”

Dustin shoves Steve away from him and focuses on you again. “When did you learn pig latin?”

“The summer you and the party decided to stalk me and Jonathan.” You shrug, though you smile fondly at the memory. It had been a good summer, just the two of you holed up in your room as you quizzed each other on the bizarre language.

Steve, seeing your fondness at the memory, frowns. He doesn’t like the uncomfortable heat that he feels ignite within his stomach at the thought of you still being so fond over Jonathan. He trusts you, he trusts what you have, but he will never feel equal to him.

Robin notices Steve’s brewing insecurity and quickly changes the subject. She doesn’t have time for the usual hormonal drama between the two of you. All she wants right now is to decipher the Russian so that she can catch a break from Erica and her demanding need to try every free sample ever. “Back to the main point: I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I’ve been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”

You bite your lip. Truthfully, Robin has the highest chance of unraveling whatever the hell is in the recording. You’re horrible with languages, high school Spanish had nearly killed you, and Steve and Dustin stand no better chance. “Robin…”

“Come on,” she begs. “It’s Steve's turn to sling ice cream and my turn to translate.”

Steve and Dustin turn to you, unanimously agreeing that you’re the leader in this situation; whatever call you make, they’ll listen. Robin sees the conflict on your face and tries one last time. “I don’t even want credit. I’m just bored and wanna hang out with you.”

Your head spins. Robin’s pleading eyes are hard to fight against and you realize that she already knows more than you’d want her to; she’s already a part of it all, whether you like it or not. Sighing, you give in. “Fine, but only if you promise not to ask any questions about whatever we may find.”

“What would I even question?” She asks, unsure why your tone is more foreboding than accepting.

You share a look with Steve and Dustin. The three of you know just how quickly something simple can spiral into chaos in Hawkins. “Just… promise me, okay?”

Robin extends her hand, just happy to finally have something better to do. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

After you shake her hand, she tosses her ice cream scoop to Steve and he hands her the Russian dictionary. Seeing the exchange sends a slight shiver down your spine. You don’t like how much it feels like you’ve just signed Robin’s life away.

–

True to her word, Robin’s ears are little geniuses.

With her helping, you and Dustin are able to speed through the translating as Steve works the register. You’re tasked with writing down the letters that Dustin calls from the whiteboard as Robin listens to the tape over and over again.

“Weird ‘r’ with a hook!” Your brother declares for the last letter.

You write it down and can’t help but frown at the message you’ve seemingly deciphered. Showing the writing to Robin, you ask what she thinks. “Are you sure it was that weird ‘r’ sound?”

“I’m positive,” she says. “C’mon, let’s go tell Steve.”

“Are we sure–” You try to ask her again, but Robin has already made her way to the sliding window and gets Steve’s attention.

“We’ve got our first sentence!”

You make your way over and lean against the window as well. Steve, holding two ice cream cones, seems excited by the news. “Oh, seriously?”

“It’s a hesitant first sentence.” You butt in, still unsure if it’s even correct.

Robin rolls her eyes at you. “Ignore her, I’m right.” Then, clearing her throat, she does an impressive Russian accent. “‘The week is long’.”

Steve’s shoulders slump, clearly having expected something better. “Well that’s thrilling.”

“Told you it was a hesitant first sentence.” Then you turn to Robin. “Nice accent, by the way.”

“Why thank you,” she tips her hat at you before focusing back on Steve. “And I know it isn’t thrilling, but it’s progress!”

And with that, Robin spins around and goes back to the table in the breakroom, eager to decipher more of the code. You’re about to kiss Steve’s cheek and say goodbye, but then your eyes land on a familiar red-haired girl and her friend standing in front of the register. You look down at the ice cream in Steve’s hands and note the familiar order you’ve come to memorize since the mall opened.

“Max? El?” You lean further out the window, pleasantly surprised to see them. “What are you guys doing here? Where’s the rest of the party?”

The girls wave at you and giggle, and you realize now that you’ve never actually seen them alone together before. Normally they’re with Lucas or MIke, so it’s a bit jarring to see them getting along so well without the boys. Jarring, but also very lovely.

“We don’t need those idiots.” Max responds, which makes El giggle even more.

Steve whistles, impressed by Max’s bluntness, and hands them their ice cream. They begin to eat the treat before a thought occurs to him. “Wait a second, are you even allowed to be here?”

You walk through the breakroom and come out the main doors to join Steve at the register. While you’re happy to see Max and El getting along, Steve has a point. Why is El here in such a public space? When you had asked Hopper last month if you could take El to Steve’s graduation, it had taken a whole debate and a fresh batch of cookies in order to convince the old man to let her come.

El is still technically forbidden from being seen in public, and yet here she is: running around Starcourt with Max.

You put your hands on the counter and lean towards the girls. They take a few steps back, now knowing that you’re onto them. “Max, El, what are you up to?”

Their eyes widen while you narrow yours, daring them to lie. Then, quickly glancing at one another, they turn around and run out of Scoops Ahoy, leaving you alone with Steve. You both stand there, dumbfounded.

“I thought I only ever had to worry about the boys.” You whisper, horrified. “The girls were supposed to be the ones I could trust.”

Steve rubs your shoulders and kisses your cheek. “You’re gonna go after them, aren’t you?”

You drop your head and sigh. “Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll tell Robin you had a babysitting emergency.” He presses a kiss to your neck now, which you shiver at, before gently shoving you out from behind the counter. “Good luck, angel.”

Steve’s kisses give you the energy you need to run after Max and El. They’re surprisingly fast as they giggle and trade ice cream cones to share. You call after them as you dodge random people in the mall, but your calls are in vain. They ignore you and continue to skip happily away from you.

“Guys!” When you finally catch up to them, they’re outside standing in front of the bike rack. “Why are you in front of the bikes–oh.”

You see Mike, Lucas, and Will unlocking their bikes from the rack as they bicker over something. Faintly you hear Mike and Lucas arguing about splitting money while Will is silent.

There’s a tension between the girls and boys that you now take note of. Normally El would have already been wrapped around Mike’s arms, but she remains by your side as Max approaches the boys. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?”

When Mike sees El, he drops his bike in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping.” El says as she glares at the boy.

You’ve never seen her so cold towards someone. It’s kind of frightening, honestly. “Oh, Wheeler, what did you do?”

“What did I do? No, what did you do? You’re the one who is letting her walk around Starcourt where everyone can see her!” Mike shrieks, always finding ways to blame you for his own problems.

You scoff. “Hey, I’ve only known about this for like, a second longer than you have.”

“Sure, likely story.”

“Have you ever considered not pissing off your girlfriend?”

“Have you ever considered getting a better boyfriend than Harrington?”

“Okay–”

Max steps in between you and Mike, annoyed. “Both of you shut up!” She waves her hand over El’s outfit and tries to turn the conversation around. “This is El’s new style. What do you think?”

“I think she looks nice–”

Mike cuts you off. “What’s wrong with you? You know she’s not allowed to be here.”

“What is she, your little pet?”

El clenches her jaw. “Yeah. Am I your pet?”

“What? No!” Mike denies, equally as confused as you are.

You’re not quite sure how you ended up in this situation.

“Then why do you treat me like garbage?” El questions the boy.

You frown at this and subtly step towards Lucas, desperately hoping for some clarification. “Did I miss something?”

“It’s a long story.” He sighs, and you now realize that Max must be angry with him, too.

El continues to interrogate Mike, and you almost feel bad for the boy. “You said Nana was sick.”

“She is! She is sick.” Mike lies through his teeth. You think about what Hopper told you earlier, how he had said some things to get Mike away from El, and you suppose now that it had involved some type of lie about the kid’s grandma.

Then Mike shoves at Lucas to get him to play along as well. Reluctantly he echoes his friend, though you know he’s aware that he’s only making this worse for himself. “She’s super sick, that’s why we’re here, actually.”

Mike is quick to follow along. “Yeah, we’re shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana.”

You catch Will’s eyes, who has remained silent this entire time, and he shakes his head at you in disappointment. You look back at Mike and Lucas now, unamused. “Nana isn’t sick, is she?”

“She is! But…” Mike fumbles over his words now. “We’re also here to get a gift for El. We just–we couldn’t find anything that suited her and I only have like, $3.50, so it’s hard.”

“It’s expensive… Had we known you were at the mall we would’ve asked you for money.” Lucas mumbles, which you flick his forehead at. “Ow, Y/N!”

El looks between Lucas and Mike, her eyes showing her hurt. “You lie.” When neither boy says anything, her hurt only grows and her voice wavers with tears. “Why do you lie?”

Again, El’s words are met with silence. Mike looks down, too ashamed to meet her eyes, and you shift uncomfortably, feeling even worse for the kid. You hadn’t expected to witness an awkward relationship feud today, and it wasn’t all entirely his fault. You know that Hopper played a role in this.

Later, when you have the time, you’re definitely going to yell at the police chief about this.

As the silence drags on, the local bus that drives everyone in Hawkins to Starcourt now arrives in the parking lot. Hearing its brakes hiss, El looks behind her and seems to make up her mind about something. Her face is stony as she approaches Mike and her words are laced with venom. “I dump your ass.”

You and Max gasp, though yours is more from shock and Max is more from being impressed.

Mike’s face falls and El whips around and begins walking towards the bus. Max follows, waving goodbye to you, and you’re left to deal with the unfortunate outcome of this bizarre situation.

Laughing nervously, you awkwardly pat Mike’s back. “You’ll… Uh, fix this, right?”

Mike slaps your hand away and marches back towards his bike. His shoulders droop and he looks tired from all he’s had to deal with today. Lucas doesn’t look any better and silently follows after his friend. Will is the only one who remains, and he drops his head to your chest and groans. “I just wanted to play DnD today.”

“I know, little bee.” You scratch his head and try to console him. “But sometimes life gets in the way. Right now Mike and Lucas need you, do you think you could help them?”

Will looks up at you. “I don’t know… Maybe, I guess.”

“Do what you can,” you kiss his forehead, wishing you could do more for him. All he’s wanted to do all summer is be a kid again, but his peers are growing older and leaving him behind. It isn’t anyone’s fault. “I gotta go, buddy. But I promise you and I will do something this week, just the two of us, okay?”

He nods, content with this, and you ruffle his hair before heading back inside to Scoops.

–

Hours later, you, Steve, Dustin, and Robin all uncover the rest of the Russian code.

You stand with your back against Steve’s chest as he has his arms draped loosely over you. Robin and Dustin stand to your left as you all face the whiteboard that has the message written on it, reading it out loud.

“‘The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west’.”

There’s a pause as you all take in the bizarre message. You’re extremely doubtful that it’s right. The order of the words is too abstract to possibly be purposeful. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“Are we sure this is right?” You ask the group, knowing no one else will utter the doubt that settles over the room. Steve tightens his arms around you and shrugs.

“It has to be.” Dustin mumbles, though even he looks unsure.

Robin sighs. “Well, whether or not we’re right, dingus and I have to close up shop.”

Steve groans but reluctantly lets go of you so that he can help Robin with closing. While the two teens wash the ice cream scoopers and put away the remaining ice cream, you sit with Dustin at one of the booths.

“Maybe it’s a code?”

“Dustin, we just translated a foreign language. Thinking it’s a code seems like a cop-out, honestly.” You rest your head in your hands and watch Steve count the money in the register. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and winks at you. Blushing, you look back at your brother. “We probably just translated it wrong.”

“My ears are right! We didn’t translate anything wrong!” Robin shouts from across the store.

Dustin perks up. “See? We have to assume we’re onto something.”

You bite your lip, still unsure, but leave the topic alone for now. There’s no point arguing with Dustin and Robin because it’s not like any of you can just ask a native Russian speaker who is correct. If it somehow ends up being a hidden code, then you’ll apologize to Robin’s ears later.

It’s quiet in the parlor after that, but when Steve and Robin have finished closing and he pulls the gate down to lock up the store before you all go home, Steve can’t help but bring the subject up again. “I mean–it’s just, it can’t be right.”

“It’s right.” Robin affirms once more, and Dustin nods at her appreciatively.

“Honesty, I think it’s great news.”

Steve walks next to you as the four of you slowly head towards the mall’s exit. It’s late, you’re tired from your long day of translating the Russian language, and you’re ready to go to bed. Then, as if somehow knowing the exhaustion that weighs upon you, you feel Steve slip his hand into yours. His fingers are warm and the touch soothes you as he gently guides the two of you.

“How is this great news?” Steve asks your brother. “I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”

“The goal isn’t to be American heroes, dummy.” You chide, tugging at your hands to make sure he looks at you and listens. “We aren’t still going to follow this, are we?”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you both. “It’s not nonsense, it’s too specific and obviously a code. And yes we’re going to keep following this. We’re onto something, I can feel it!”

“All I feel right now is a crippling migraine forming,” you groan, rubbing at your temples.

Steve kisses your head in concern, feeling bad that he’s kept you out so late. However, he also really, really would love to become someone important. Someone worthy of his dad’s favor, so he follows after Dustin, curious despite it all. “What do you mean a code?”

“Like a super secret spy code.”

“That’s a total stretch.”

You snort. “That’s what I said, but no. Why should we ever listen to Y/N? It’s not like she’s always right in the end.”

Robin winces, afraid to annoy you further, but she can’t help but agree with Dustin. “I don’t know, is it really a stretch?”

“No, please don’t tell me you believe my brother.” You’re betrayed, hurt even, that Robin would succumb to Dustin’s fantasies.

Normally you’re all for believing your brother, but Russians in Hawkins leaving a hidden code in a radio frequency that can be accessed by the public? You may have fought alternate dimension monsters and you may know a girl with mind control powers, but even this feels far fetched.

“Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, ‘fire the warhead at noon’?” Robin raises her eyebrows at you.

“Well… no.” You slump your shoulders, knowing that she has a point. “But–”

“Just admit we’re right, Y/N.” Dustin says, annoyed.

Robin turns to you and almost groans when she sees your hand intertwined with Steve’s. Her voice falters for a moment at the sight, but she clears her throat and carries on with the conversation. “And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so… ‘the silver cat feeds’. Why would anyone talk like that unless they’re trying to mask the meaning of their message?”

Dustin is next to her now, hanging onto her every word as you and Steve lag behind. “Exactly!”

“It is a weird phrase,” you mumble under your breath, and Steve can’t help but chuckle at how endearing you are when you try to play the reasonable role. It’s never any use, you’re everything that hope and optimism embodies; it’s adorable.

Robin sees that you’re close to giving in and begins to ramble now. “Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?” Again Dustin agrees with everything she says and Steve shrugs his shoulders while all you do is sigh in defeat. Looking at your brother, Robin concludes, “Guess that confirms your suspicions.”

“Evil Russians.”

“Okay, no.” You step between them now. “What if they’re just, like, really shy Russians who want some privacy? Why do we always jump to the evil conclusion?”

Dustin shoulders you to get you to shut up, and you shove him back, starting a small spat between the two of you. He hits your shoulder, you hit his stomach, and Steve watches with amusement while Robin stares in horror.

“Do we stop them?” She asks the teen.

Steve shakes his head. “I’ve learned that it’s best to just let them fight it out. It’s been a month, they’re behind on their fist fighting schedule.”

“I heard that!” You quickly say to him before yanking Dustin’s shirt to get him off of your back.

Seeing your struggle, Robin forces your brother off of you and holds him by his arms so that he doesn’t jump on you again. Dustin complains, but quickly shuts up at what Robin says. “Focus! I’m trying to tell you that I agree with you, this is totally evil Russians.”

Dustin stops struggling against her, now elated at the idea of defeating evil foreigners. “So how do we crack it?”

You were scared that Robin and Dustin wouldn’t get along, but as you watch them bounce schemes off of one another and plan an evil Russian take down, you’re now terrified of the friendship brewing between them. It’s worse than Steve with Dustin; Robin is just as cunning as your brother is.

She thinks for a moment. “I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”

“Have we ever considered a game plan for after poking our noses where they don’t belong?” Dustin and Robin both glare at you and you hold your hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

“Ignore her, Robin. She likes to pretend she’s the rational one in these types of situations.” Dustin whispers to her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve kisses your cheek as a way to console you as your brother continues to speak. “Anyways, maybe the ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place?”

“Or a person.” Robin theorizes.

“Or a weapon.”

As the two of them come up with insane theories about what the code could mean, you notice that Steve is no longer by your side. Turning around, you find him stopped at one of the carousel horses meant for little kids. He’s bent over it, examining it. You frown, unsure what he’s doing, and walk over to him.

Resting a hand against his back, you lean down next to him. “Can I ask what we’re looking at here, honey?” He’s mumbling under his breath and digging through his pockets for something. Now you’re starting to get concerned. “Steve?”

“I need–do you have a quarter?”

“No?” You’re even more concerned now. Placing the back of your hand against his forehead, you check his temperature. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Robin quips as she and Dustin now join.

“Quarter!” Steve demands, nearly falling over as he tries to catch the one that she tosses him. When he catches it he quickly pushes the coin into the machine’s slot, bringing it to life. Music begins to play as the horse moves back and forth. It’s ominous, almost, in the mall’s dim lighting with no one else around.

Steve listens intently to the music, his face concentrated as if trying to understand something. As the music continues to play, you can’t help but feel that it sounds familiar. It reminds you of something, maybe a distant memory that you can’t quite recall. Wanting to understand more, you lean in close to the machine as well and mirror Steve’s actions. “The music…”

“They’ve both lost it,” Dustin mumbles when he sees that you’re also now analyzing a stupid carousel horse.

“Y/N, you helping little Stevie up onto the ride?” Robin laughs at her own joke, but you swat at her to shush her.

As the song plays once more, it finally clicks. Your mind flashes back to your conversation with him earlier in the break room as you kept replaying the Russian recording over and over again. It’s the same song. With a gasp, you throw your arms around Steve’s neck and begin kissing his face over and over again. “You’re a genius!”

Steve leans into your kisses and smiles at the praise, relieved that you don’t think he’s some idiot. Though his heart is beating wildly, he clears his throat and shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. “I have my moments.”

“Care to share with the class, dinguses?”

Robin’s voice startles you, having momentarily forgotten where you were. Blushing, you pull away from Steve and clear your throat as well and act as if you weren’t just drowning the boy in kisses. “Listen to the song, guys.”

The seriousness of your tone causes Dustin to finally listen to the music as well. It only takes him a few seconds to piece together what you and Steve already have. “Holy shit. The music.”

“The music.” You confirm with pride, still incredibly amazed that Steve managed to remember such a small yet crucial detail. Since coming to befriend him, you’ve come to admire just how perceptive he is. Sure, he may not be a math whiz, but his emotional and creative intelligence leaves you in awe every time you see it. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for.

You wish his father saw this intelligence within him. Honestly, you wish more people did.

Dustin yanks his backpack off of his shoulder and starts rustling through it as he searches for something. When he finds his tape recorder, he starts to play the Russian transmission again. Hearing the audio and carousel play simultaneously side by side, it only confirms what Steve has long since figured out: it’s the same song.

Not being able to help yourself, you again kiss Steve’s cheek, giddy and proud of him. “You’re brilliant.”

He preens while Robin scrunches her nose, unsure why you’re all over the guy because of some song. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s the exact same song on the recording.” Dustin explains to her.

“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?”

You nod at her. “Maybe? We should look into who produces these machines, it could be our new lead.”

Steve shakes his head. “‘Indiana Flyer’? I don’t… I don’t think so.”

Something seems to shift within his voice and his face now twists with slight fear. He looks as if he’s realized something awful, and you feel your own joy from earlier vanish. A chill runs through you, the same awful feeling of dread that once overwhelmed you when Will originally disappeared now courses through you again.

“What is it?” You softly ask Steve, already bracing yourself for the worst.

He frowns at the apprehension in your voice and the worried crease between his brows makes you want to smooth away the concern. You know he doesn’t want to scare you, that he’s always trying to make things easier for you, so you tilt your head at him and nod slightly; you want him to tell you. Seeing your unspoken permission, he sighs. “This code, it… didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”

You, Robin, and Dustin all look at one another. Fear settles over the group, you can feel its heavy weight like an old, familiar friend.

“Why does everything happen in Hawkins?” You say to no one in particular, still trying to process what this all means.

Dustin sighs and Steve drops his head.

Somehow, you always end up here.

–

Steve offers to drive you and Dustin home after seeing how shaken up you are by the latest Russian revelation. Tired and exhausted and terrified as usual, you accept.

It takes some trial and error, but eventually he and your brother manage to fit your bikes in the back of the BMW.

The drive to your house is filled with awkward banter between Steve and Dustin. You sit quietly in the passenger seat as the two boys try to make light of the situation, but not even their jokes can lessen the fear that creeps into the car; none of you are sure what to make of all of this.

When Steve pulls up to your house, all that you’ve managed to do the entire car ride is make a mental note to call Jonathan about everything later. It’s not your best plan, you wish that there was more you could do, but at the very least you know that he and Nancy can help.

Dustin scrambles out of the car, desperate to escape the tension within it. “See you tomorrow, Steve!” He calls behind him before slamming the car door shut.

You snort softly at your brother, finally moving to unbuckle your own seatbelt, before Steve places his hand on yours and stops you. He’s noticed how quiet you’ve been the entire car ride and the way your eyes have clouded over with fear. He hates it. “Do me a favor?”

“Yes?” You blink at him, unsure what he could want at this hour. It’s late and your mom expects you home soon.

“Leave your window unlocked for me.” He winks at you, trying to play coy, but you see the genuine concern for you hidden beneath his actions.

You can’t help but smile; it feels as if you can breathe again. “Steve Harrington, why should I leave my window unlocked for you?”

Your smile sends a warmth through Steve’s chest as relief washes over him. He’s doing something right. He’s gotten you to smile. “Because I’m planning on sneaking in after I park my car a few blocks down so your mom won’t see me.”

Though you know what he had been implying, hearing him say the words out loud causes a wild blush to burn across your cheeks and your stomach to swoop. Steve has never done this before, sneaking into your room like some lovestruck teenager late at night, it’s been the one boundary neither of you have crossed before.

“I suppose I can do that.” You say with an air of indifference, which Steve rolls his eyes at. “Strictly friendly, of course.”

“Oh, of course.”

You giggle, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, and you exit the car after kissing the boy’s cheek. His face is warm against your lips and you’re coming to memorize the way your nose presses against the indent of his cheek bones.

When you get inside, your mom is knitting on the couch while Tews sits in her lap. She greets you with a smile and you compliment the scarf she’s making. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for this winter, mom.”

She thanks you and wishes you a good night, noticing the bags underneath your eyes with slight concern. Inside your room, you quickly clear away the scattered pieces of paper on your desk and arrange your bedding so that it isn't strewn across the room. Steve has been in your room a million times now, and yet you can’t help but feel like tonight is different for some reason.

True to his word, within ten minutes Steve is knocking on your window. Hearing the quiet way his knuckles rap against the glass makes your heart jump in your stomach. Your body practically buzzes as you go to open the window, eager to have him close to you.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, opening the window wide enough for him to crawl through.

Steve pulls himself up with ease, his biceps strain against his Scoops Ahoy uniform, and you’ve never been more thankful for corporate policy. “Sorry, angel. Came here as fast as I could.”

You tug at his shirt and the two of you are falling into your bed. He lands on you with a soft thud and your body has long since become accustomed to his weight. As his body settles upon yours, it feels like coming home. You exhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his body, and Steve nuzzles his face into your neck and presses a gentle kiss there.

Everything swirling violently within your head now stills. The constant onslaught of worries and doubts finally quiets, and you know that despite it all, at least you have Steve.

“We’ll figure it out, ya know.” Steve’s lips move against the skin of your neck as he speaks, making you shiver slightly at the sensation.

“I know,” you start to play with his hair, needing something to do with your hands as you speak. “But… How many times are we going to keep doing this? Be the only people in Hawkins aware of what’s going on?”

Steve is silent for a few moments, allowing your words to sink in. He rolls them around in his head, he knows that the question isn’t one that comes from doubt of what he and the others are capable of. You don’t lack faith, you lack the willingness to constantly place the ones you love at risk. It just isn’t in your nature.

“As many times as needed.” He pauses again, unsure how to express to you his certainty that you’re capable of so much with all the love within you. If there’s anyone in this shitty town who is a real American hero, it’s you. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through these last two years, measly Russians are no big deal. We’ve fought worse monsters than Communism.”

You laugh, he always somehow gets you to laugh, and the sound is as angelic to Steve as your eyes are to him. He tightens his arms around you and relishes in the way your body presses against his, how he can feel your body move with every inhale of your laugh.

Then, slowly, your laughter dies down. Reality settles upon you once more and you want to believe Steve, you do, and you try to reassure yourself that he’s right… but something feels off about this. You can’t exactly articulate what it is, but there's this haze of uncertainty that you’ve never quite felt before; a vulnerability that leaves you feeling cold in his arms.

Sensing your fear rising up again, Steve tries to distract you by changing the subject. “Speaking of monsters, I recruited the little heathens to help with your birthday gift.”

The change of subject works. You raise your head and look at the teen. “You mean the party? You got them to help with a gift for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Y/N.” Steve butts his head against your chin playfull. “I can make them listen to me… sometimes.”

You stare at him, knowing he’s full of shit. “Go on, tell me all about how you got them to listen to you.”

He tries to hold your gaze, refusing to back down, but he cracks after only a few seconds. “Okay, fine. It took a lot of pleading and I now owe a bunch of pre-teens money.”

A loud, full body laugh escapes your lips, and Steve laughs with you. The two of you hold one another and feel each other laugh, chests rising with glee. For a moment you feel okay again, forgetting everything else for now. You’re carefree in this moment, feeling like a little kid again, something only Steve can do to you.

When your laughs die down, you and Steve quietly lay together. No other words manage to find their way in the dark of your room, all that needs to be said has been laid to rest. His warm breaths hit the base of your neck as your nails scratch against his scalp. While you feel safe in his arms, there’s still so much that needs to be said.

Staring at the ceiling of your room, you see faint threads and strings and lines that you thought you put to rest that night in Jonathan’s room this winter. Now, they’re back again, only this time it’s a different boy within your arms. Something akin to doubt creeps in.

Steve already has all of you, you told him you’d wait, but what if you’ve missed your chance again with him like you did with Jonathan? When June began, Steve promised that you had all summer together. He calls you angel and tells you stories to fall asleep to on the phone, and yet the threads that glow above you taunt you.

You love him, you do, but you’re terrified that whatever the two of you uncover with the Russians will somehow pry you apart.

Just like Will’s disappearance had pried Jonathan away from you two years ago.

July looms over you and summer is going by faster than you thought it would. The promise of summer, one that usually leaves the nostalgic taste of honey on your tongue, now threatens to choke you.

As if having a mind of their own, your arms tighten even more around Steve, almost as if somehow you can shield what the two of you have from the dangers within Hawkins.

You hope it’s enough.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #nya #m's writing #this one foreshadows loooooads #like so much #i feel so sneaky

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 6 months ago

Text

Worship

a/n I won’t say anything because what is there to say… Also, this is fiction idk why but I just feel the need to wave that flag here.

Summery: Just on stage shenanigans between you, the back singer, and the boys.

warning: no full on smut because there’s so much of that as it is but they are sex on legs so this does have sexual implications. I’m just a girl. And I feel like I should go confess my sins to someone.

All of them x reader

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Nothing truly beats the feeling of the stage lighting beaming on you. The radiant atmosphere and the beating of the crowd in front of the stage. It got addictive fast. And the rush of both adrenaline and freedom you never truly got over. Most of the time, it still felt like a dream. Like you weren’t there. There weren’t four other people. A whole band that people swooned over.

You still remember the notification of the private message in your DMs. “We’ve seen your videos. The voice is to die for. Up to back us up?” You had stared at it for hours. Pressing the profile over and over again, convinced that one of the times it would take you to some scammy account, but it didn’t. So you took that leap of fate, and the roller coaster that unfolded still made your skin tingle at times.

“How you don’t break an ankle in these is beyond me," II grumbled, gesturing to the high heels you were strapping around your legs. Before throwing the towel he had just used to dry his hair with, at you. You huffed back, “Of course you wouldn’t know; you sit and look pretty the whole show." You shot him an overly exaggerated smile before flipping him off. “Put the claws away, baby," he said, lifting his hands up, “I would love to keep my eyes for some time longer." You lifted both of your hands, making sure to flex the black coffin-shaped nails, only earning a chuckle in return from II.

“No form of violence is allowed backstage," III cut in, putting the mask over his face, “Unless it’s consensual, of course." The three of you snickered. There was never a dull moment with them. You weren’t sure exactly why you imagined them to be all cold and unapproachable, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. From the silly hats they happily took from the fans to messing around on stage barking. “We’re out in thirty," IV's voice cut through the snickering. “Vess?”, you questioned, standing up only to still feel tiny among them. It was unfair how even killer heels had you feeling minuter. “In his element, ready to go," the usual then. You turned to the mirror while doing the last checkups. Fiddling with the straps of your dress.

“Headset feels good?”, warm hands slipped up your beck, fidgeting with the wires as if he even knew what he was doing. “You just needed an excuse to put your hands on me, sir," you said, pushing back against IV’s chest. He already had his mask on, but from the way his blue eyes flickered, you knew he was smirking at you. “You can’t call the man guilty if you haven’t caught him red-handed, darling," he muttered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “And to my defense, the wire wasn’t plugged in," he snickers before pulling back. You shook your head as you watched him follow after the boys out. Reaching for your mask, you take a couple of deep breaths to steady your heartbeat. It was going to be a night to remember. You could just feel it.

And your gut wasn’t wrong. The crowd was wild tonight, and that always set the bend into a different kind of frenzy. For most of the shows, you were usually up there on your pedestal. Looking like a vision cloaked in both light and darkness, there were some songs that Vessle liked having you down there with him. But you always felt almost guilty. You didn’t want the fans to feel like you were there to change the dynamic. Let alone take up a spot that wasn’t yours to take.

So when you noticed Vessel striding towards you, you couldn’t help but silently shake your head. They had already all been all over each other all night. But you don’t get to run through all of your reasons as to why this was a bad idea before Vessel was in front of your pedestal. Hands reaching up for your ankles before he pointed for you to get down. You shook your head at him, continuing to sing your part. Not wanting the interaction to seem odd, you sank to your knees so you can touch his face, only realizing how wrong this move was once Vessel's hands grip the sides of your hips and you’re airborne before you can even blink.

A small shriek slips past your lips as you hold onto his shoulders. But no matter what your reaction to this was, he was all smug about it. His white teeth bright against the black paint covering his body. “I don’t like it when you put on unnecessary fights," he mused before turning back to the crowd. So, you let the thrill of the beat take over. Playing into the role of the masked goddess. A siren. That was the beauty of the mask. Such little thing making the biggest difference. Giving one the chance to feel way more confident.

And it’s II your legs take you to first. His eyes follow your movements all across the stage. With the drum set taking most of his platform he was sat on, playing games with this man was tricky. But it wasn’t impossible. So you slither behind him. Placing your hand on top of his head, you carefully make him look up at you. That same moment, the heel II was so found off finds its way between his parted legs. Without missing a beat, his face is pressed into your upper thigh, fingers dipping beneath the mesh overlay of your dress. And you know there will be hell to pay later on from the way he’s gripping your ankle. You push his face away from your body, throwing him a lighthearted kiss as you hurry down the platform stairs. The roar of the crowd filling all of your senses.

III is left to your mercy next. And since his eyes were all over you, you knew that even if you were to walk right past him, he would follow you across the stage. So you stand there, motioning with your fingers for him to come to you. Right as your part of the solo vocals came. Ones that boys even called your siren song. You let the melody pour out of you. Watching III sink to his knees in front of you. Your brain blanks for a moment as he leans forward, and you just know why the crowd erupts in chaos. So your fingers find his head, pulling him even closer. Let him paint the picture of devouring you. Worshipping you. And you’re yet again so thankful for the mask covering your face because you know that your face would be as red as the paint on his skin. Especially after he stands back up. Fingers moved to brush over his lips as if he was cleaning them.

You can feel someone’s eyes burning holes in your body, and you’re not even one bit surprised to see IV with his eyes blazing. He was the one you flirted the most with backstage as well. Since day one, there was just that mutual fire you both shared. So the back and forth between you both was never-ending. But if there was one thing IV avoided, it was making any move towards you while everyone was on stage. And while boys took their sweet time being lunatics when it came to you. His play pretend ended with his bandmates. Yet you didn’t miss the glances he threw your way. Or how he would find himself close to your pedestal, close enough to touch but never leaning in.

And while your head was telling you that maybe he just didn’t want to get involved, your heart was telling you to take yet another leap of faith. So you two stood in front of each other for a heartbeat. And right as Descending’s you came crawling back to me, filled the stage. Your finger hooked beneath the bottom of his mask as you pulled him closer. No matter the blast of sounds around you, you could still make out the growl that slipped past his lips. And since his eyes promised hell, you threw all caution to the wind as you leaned in, smashing your lips against his. You didn’t let it linger for too long; there was little fun in having two masks between you both, but it got the point across well enough.

IV’s hand reached for you as you moved back away. A freaked-out giggle slipped past your lips as you darted towards your last victim for the night. Well, and shelter now, considering that you had to get away from IV. Vessel was someone you knew had to be worshipped in front of the fans. You weren’t living under a rock. His hands and fingers had separate fan blogs, not to mention his carved-out chest muscles. So you slipped behind him. Letting your fingers trail the sides of him. Finding the sweat-drenched skin. Dragging your nails over the paint, no doubt leave claw marks in its way.

You rested your head against Vessel’s beck for a heartbeat, hoping to slip from behind him with ease. But you couldn’t have been more wrong because the moment you took the reassured stride away from him. A firm hand gripped your hair as he carefully, yet rather possessively, dragged you back to him. Pulling your head back so he could look down at you, shaking his head. But the smile gave his controlling demeanor away. “Whatever will we do with you, little Vixen?" You bit your lip, shrugging slightly. Playfully pushing at his chest, you slipped out of his grip. Swaying your hips as you slowly climbed back to the steps of your pedestal. Not letting your brain think of the hell you just set ablaze.

#sleep token x reader #sleep token imagine #sleep token x oc #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token ii x reader #sleep token iii x reader #sleep token iv x reader #sleep token vessel x reader

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norrizzandpia · 11 months ago

Note

hello, firstly i would like to say ur writing is phenomenal!! secondly i wanted to request something like the reader having some insecurities or just social media making her feel unworthy of lando thank u 🫶🏼

Ive been hanging onto this request for a while bc i love these scenarios bc they hit so close to home and I always need to be in the right mindset for them and now i am!

Love You the Way I Do (LN4)

Summary: When Y/n starts to pull back, Lando knows exactly what to do.

Warnings: insecurities, talks of not being good enough, language

Note: the reason ive been so mia on here is because ive just been in such a bad slump and not feeling good about myself or feeling good enough in general and im starting to get out of it with a lot of time focusing on myself but i really miss it on here so im using this as a way to kind of help me cope a bit with what ive been going through recently

Y/n was never good with her emotions. Discussing them and trying to work on them, she could never reach a certain level of comfortability with the people in her life that allowed her to be that vulnerable with them. Her parents, friends, and other family members had to pry words out of her when it was clear she was struggling and no amount of therapy sessions had cured the vicious cycle. However, Lando’s peaceful presence in her life had shifted the way she operated, allowed her to open up more easily with the way he would hold her until she was ready.

He was patient, almost strategic, when it came to getting through to her. Past moments of darkness where she would try to shut him out, try to be alone in the agony, were lessons in which ways worked best to get her to realize that he was there for her, waiting with open arms and constantly ready to listen.

Easing her mind, that was Lando’s job and he was damn good at it.

He could always tell when there was a war going on beneath the walls of her head. When she would go quiet or laugh just a bit less, he caught on fast. Just like now, as he sat on the couch in their shared apartment and watched her talk to her sister on the phone in the kitchen, Lando clocked the way she wasn’t as smiley, as excited to talk to one of her favorite people in the world.

“Thursday? No, I can’t do Thursday. I’ve got some stuff to do.” She mumbled into the speaker. Lando could hear her sister respond, something about Y/n being too busy, but he couldn’t truly digest the words, too engrossed in his own mind wondering what she had Thursday.

If he remembered correctly, she had nothing scheduled.

The second sign; distancing herself from people close to her and staying inside unhealthily.

She paced the room, rounding each corner of the counter as she bit the nail on her thumb, “Friday, no… next Monday, no… next Wednesday, no…”

Their conversation continued that way until her sister gave up on trying to find a date, muttering about letting her know when the next date Y/n was available was, and hung up. His girlfriend set the phone down on the marble, head falling forward as she huffed out a breath.

“You okay, love?” He spoke, voice hesitant as to not startle very clearly something loud in her mind.

She turned her eyes, squinting at him lightly before whispering, almost too quietly, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

A tired Y/n, Lando knew, warranted clinginess. That was her usual way of remedying exhaustion, curling up in his arms wherever he was and partaking in a Power Nap. Although, there was none of that as she walked out of the kitchen, turning a corner and disappearing behind their bedroom door.

Third sign; shutting Lando out, the one he hated the most.

He scrolled through his phone for a minute more, not wanting her to know he had already realized her turmoil. He wanted her to believe that his comfort was not out of pity, but love.

When the clock reached an even number, he got up from his seated position and pattered over to their door, knocking lightly.

“Y/n? Can I come in?” He said, though there was no response. He creaked the door open, seeing her frame turned away from him as it laid on their bed, her phone illuminating the room.

Because of the darkness and the only light coming from her phone, he could easily see what she was looking at. It was as clear as day and the reason for her distance, however painful, became apparent.

A twitter thread of why Luisa was better for Lando than Y/n.

It broke his heart.

He stood for a moment, taking in the scene before him and breathing deeply, and deciding his plan of action. It only took him a few seconds, although, he knew exactly what he wanted to say to her.

Lando approached her side of the bed and when his footsteps reached the ears of his beloved, she turned her phone off quickly. He kneeled down beside her, dried tears on her cheeks not going unnoticed by him. His hand cradled the side of her face that wasn’t pushed into her pillow and he kissed her forehead.

“Baby, I saw what you were looking at.” He whispered into the quiet. His green eyes bore into hers as she willed the knot in her throat to dissipate.

Lando gently took her phone from her hands, sliding it off the bed and setting it on the night stand next to him. He nudged her shoulder, signaling for her to move over so he could squeeze into her side of their massive bed. When he laid down, his arms wrapped tightly around her frame, squeezing the skin and warming it as she nuzzled her head into his chest.

“Why are you doing this to yourself? You know they’re wrong.” He tried.

Y/n pulled away from his chest, looking up at him and using her voice, albeit wobbly, “Do I know they’re wrong? Lan, you mean so much to so many people in this world, people you don’t even know the names of.”

He nodded, “Okay, yes, what does that have to do with this?”

She sniffled, “There are so many other women that could compliment you better. Women that people know the name of. Women that have made their mark on this world just like you have. I will never be able to be what you need me to be.”

Lando shook his head, her words outrageous in his mind because she was already everything he needed, just as she was.

“Y/n, what? What are you even saying? That’s crazy. You mean everything to me. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t care about anyone else, anything else. You compliment my life and my happiness perfectly. That’s all that matters.”

Wetness formed beneath her eyes once more and began to fall freely as she toyed with the hem of his shirt, “What if you wake up one day and realize that Luisa is better suited for the life you lead? What if one day you wake up and I am no longer good enough for you?”

Lando gaped at her, truly at a loss for words. In his mind, everything she was saying was so incredibly wrong, she couldn’t be farther from the truth. However, from the sadden look in her eyes, he could tell that she fully believed the things flying from her mouth. That idea, the thought that she was scared one day he would no longer cherish her in the way he does now, made him all the more determined to remind how much she matters to him and how that will never change.

“Y/n, stop. Listen to yourself. Have I ever made you feel inadequate?” He questioned, staring at her fiercely as if what she was saying made him defensive. It did in a way. He was defensive of the love he had for her, taking shame in the fact that he had made her feel as though their relationship would end.

She shook her head as he brought his fingers up to wipe at the tears still falling down her skin, “No, but-”

He brought his pointer finger to her lips, “No buts, Y/n. Listen to me when I tell you this. You have been and always be more than enough for me. You are the start and end of my day, and that is something I never want to change. Being scared that one day I’ll wake up and magically have fallen out of love with you is absolutely fucking clinically insane. It’s been two years we’ve been together, Y/n, and I still badger you at the end of the day, asking what you had done because I love to hear your voice. I love your rambles and I love the way you love me. There’s nothing that’s going to make me want to stop loving you because there’s really no going back. I’m in this with you and I always will be. You need to believe that. Believe me when I say the only way we will end is lying next to each other on our death beds with rings on our left fingers from our wedding decades ago.”

“That’s kind of morbid.” She whispered, a small smile gracing her features as his words sunk beneath her skin.

He chucked and leaned further into her, “It’s true. There will come a time where I get on one knee in front of you and beg you to be with me for the rest of our lives. There will come a time where I will stand in front of all of our friends and family, and declare my love for you and certainty over marrying you. I know these things will happen because I am interchangeably in love with you. And I know you are with me too. So, just leave social media be, baby. Stay here in this moment with me, push all those disgusting fans away and listen to my words. I love you,” He shook her head lightly in his hands as he spoke, “You are worthy of my love and love in general, and there will never come a singular moment where even the thought of leaving you passes my brain. We are it for each other, love. This is it for me.”

Her body relaxed fully into his arms and further into the bed as they stared at each other. Y/n giggled at his words and he smiled down at her, still holding her face whilst lightly rubbing excess tears in her soft skin.

A silence passed before Y/n mumbled, “I think I’m going to delete my social media platforms for a while. Take some time off and get back on track.”

Warmth swelled in Lando’s chest, threatening to spill out from his mouth at overwhelming amounts of it within his body.

“I’m so proud of you, love.” He whispered, leaning in to kiss her softly. He pecked her lips lovingly, sweet nothings spilling from his mouth in the form of the warmth that had been drowning him.

They stayed that way for a few hours, both falling in out of sleep in the arms of the other. And when crickets chirped and the clock read an ungodly time, Lando pulled Y/n from bed, into their bathroom, where he showed her how much he loved her. A bath, some face masks, and low music that he made her dance with him along to, all worked as ways for him to tangibly exude the feelings he had for her. No longer were the ex’s of his past, no longer were jealous fans, no longer were thoughts of unworthiness.

Just him, her, and the love that would never die out.

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wlntrsldler · 8 months ago

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poisoned mercury | end up here

a/n: i'm going FERALLLLLLL over this chapter. enjoy poisoned mercury's debut album hehe.

iv. end up here by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“your band name doesn’t even make any sense,” you argued, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you.

luke crashed your secret spot, again, and refused to let you smoke in silence until you gave him a detailed explanation of how your day went. he knew you didn’t smoke every day, only on days that were particularly hard. he noticed that your bad days always had something to do with your dad, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring that up.

anyway, you got fed up with his badgering and that stupid smirk on his face because he knew you were about to crack, and decided that if he was going to act like a toddler, you would too. hence, why you were now bringing up his band name.

luke took offense to that because he thought the band name was cool. he was the one to suggest it. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let his hurt show on his face, “what do you mean? poisoned mercury is a sick name.”

“mercury is already poisonous. your band name is like redundant or some shit.”

“then why did so many people in history ingest it?” luke asked, recalling the one thing he remembered from his high school history class before he dropped out. he took a drag from his cigarette, turning his body a bit so the wind didn’t blow the smoke directly in your face.

“they fucking died, castellan,” you replied, deadpan.

“oh,” he blinked, staring off, “i didn’t know that.”

you rolled your eyes, a habit that you’ve picked up whenever you were with him and sat back down on the bench. luke joined you, silent as he thought about what you just said. he really needed to stop zoning out during lessons, but since he was already out of high school, he guessed it didn’t matter anymore.

as much as you hate to admit it, luke castellan was growing on you. sure, he got on your nerves like nobody else– the boy just doesn’t quit– but, he wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought. not that you’d ever tell him that though.

when you got back to the cabin last week after helping with concert prep, the cabin was spotless. there were no empty red bull cans in sight, the table tops were free of crumbs, floor vacuumed and mopped, and there was even a candle burning on the counter. you approached your bedroom door to find a post-it on the handle. luke’s messy writing was smudged around the corners, but you could still make out what it said.

“five star,

i snitched on the boys and my mom will have a stern talk with them about their cleanliness. can’t promise that people will stop talking about me, but i can promise you won’t have to live in the dojo casa house mojo or whatever it was.

ps i’m using the spot tomorrow, just thought i should let you know. maybe we can set up a calendar for reservations.

luke :)”

the cabin hasn’t been as messy since. whatever may castellan told the boys worked like a charm. there was still the occasional trash, but nothing crazy. it smelled better in the cabin too, still like a boy, but it smelled like expensive cologne more than anything. cedarwood and pine.

and thankfully, the luke castellan hype train was starting to run out of steam, with many people finally realizing that he was also just a human being and the surprising revelation that luke castellan was not entertaining anyone during his time at camp helped with it as well. you still heard whispers about him here and there, but you were glad the topic of conversation was beginning to switch to something else.

you and luke walked to the gym and back home every morning together. he and the boys sat with you and clarisse during meals. they tagged along for music lessons and spoke to the kids, which they really appreciated. they helped the older campers with writing music, luke particularly. you’d been around a few musicians in your life and many of them only kissed ass when your dad was around, but poisoned mercury was different. they were passionate about their music. that was clear.

after a conversation with clarisse, where she managed to convince you that not all musicians are like your ex, you began to let loose a little bit. you hung out with the boys more, partly as an excuse so clarisse could hang out with chris without causing too much suspicion, and found that you actually enjoyed their company. and luke castellan? well, he wasn’t half bad. that doesn’t mean he got off easy though.

you took a hit of your vape, facing him, “are you done interrogating me?”

“for now, yeah,” he smiled as you shook your head. “are you coming to the concert tonight?”

“well, i did help organize it.”

“a simple yes would’ve sufficed, five star,” luke teased, relighting his cigarette. it was burning unevenly and luke was never one to waste his cigarettes. “you gonna watch us play?”

“don’t have a choice. dad wants me there the whole time.”

“you can act a little excited,” luke ran a hand through his curls, “we are pretty good, you know.”

“i know,” you hummed. the sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze in the air. goosebumps formed on your skin, the t-shirt and denim shorts you wore didn’t offer much comfort. you shivered, “i have listened to your music.”

“are you cold?”

your teeth chattered, but you shook your head, “i’m fine.”

luke took off his hoodie, tossing it in your direction, “take it.”

“no,” you tossed it back to him, “told you i’m good.”

always so stubborn, luke thought.

“if you catch a cold, that’s not on me,” he placed the hoodie on the bench between the two of you. “which songs have you listened to?”

“kilby girl, of course. it played on the radio so much when you guys first dropped it,” you said, remembering the days where you and your hometown friends would blast it in the car. it reminded you of high school, reckless decisions, life-long memories, and the thrill of knowing you were going to be playing the sport you’d worked so hard to excel in at a d1 level in the fall. you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, “i really like family line. it might be my favorite.”

luke’s eyebrows shot up. not many people talked about family line. it was probably their least streamed song. they never performed the song on tour because it was difficult for luke to sing it. it was a personal song to him. it was inspired by his relationship with his father, or lack thereof.

when poisoned mercury first got signed to olympus records, luke sent a message to his dad on facebook. luke hadn’t tried to contact him since he was ten, not since his father returned his letter to him unopened, no response but a “return to sender” stamp plastered over the envelope. but after the small congratulatory party his mom set up for the band after they signed, luke felt like a little kid again, a kid who wanted to share the great news with his dad, so he found his dad on facebook, made an account, and sent him a message.

he didn’t get a reply, which was expected, but it felt good for a second to pretend that he had a father to tell his good news to. luke thought he didn’t care about whether or not his dad was proud of him, but when his message went from “sent” to “read” a few days later, he was brought back to those moments in his life when he cried and wondered why he wasn’t enough to make his dad stay. he wrote family line in one sitting, on his bed in his bedroom in connecticut, looking at the little league medals on his wall that seemed to mock him.

he originally didn’t want it on the album because he felt like it didn’t fit the vibe of the rest of the songs and that it was too real, too vulnerable for a debut album, but then he played it for his mom and she loved it. she cried when she first heard it and luke knew that even if people didn’t like the song, he was going to put it out for his mom.

“huh,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “wasn’t expecting that one. thought you’d be more of a crash my car type of girl.”

“i like that too,” you shrugged, “but family line. that song. i don’t think i have the words to describe it.”

“thanks, five star,” luke looked down at his feet, taking a puff from his dying cigarette. “that’s my mom’s favorite, too.”

“did you write it?”

luke nodded, looking to face you. there was a new expression on your face, one that you’d never used with him before. it was a mix of disbelief and awe. he tried not to get offended that you didn’t think he could write something like family line, but he couldn’t blame you. he didn’t really portray the type of person who would be able to be that raw and vulnerable on a song. “me and trav write the lyrics for our songs, mostly. chris and connor help too, but the bulk of the lyrics are me.”

“you need to stop doing that.”

he cocked his head to the side, crushing the cigarette butt on the hardware of the bench, “doing what?”

“surprising me,” you shook your head, “i don’t like it.”

“i don’t know what to tell you,” he chuckled, leaning back on the bench. he looked out into the lake, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, “i have layers. you just gotta give me a chance.”

“how do you do it?” you sat criss cross on the bench, leaning against the arm rest. “how do you write like that?”

you’d always been curious about music, even if you weren’t good at it. your dad was never one to answer your questions, especially because you were interested in lyrics more than anything, and that wasn’t his forte.

luke mimicked your actions, “i dunno. personal experience, i guess?”

you frowned, thinking about the lyrics of family line. luke never talked about his dad, but spoke highly of his mom. was family line based on his own life? if it was, his dad was an asshole.

you relented to the cold, grabbing the hoodie that he left in between the two of you. you ignored the triumphant smile on his face when you draped the sweater over your bare legs, shielding them from the wind chills.

he continued, “sometimes things happen to me that get me worked up and i have to write a song about it. sometimes, it’s based on my imagination. it depends.”

you wanted to ask him about his dad, but you didn’t know if he considered you guys friends yet. it’s not like you made it easy for him anyway. you could deal with the banters and annoyance, but you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. you could be a dick, but you weren’t cruel.

you changed the subject, “okay, let’s play a game.”

“21 questions?” luke bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. he waggled his eyebrows, dodging your arm that reached out to smack him.

“you’re gross,” you gagged, knowing the implications of the game, “no, i’m gonna ask about the songs on your album and you tell me if it’s real life or from your imagination.”

“alright, go for it five star,” he beamed, propping his elbows on his crossed knees. he loved talking about music with anyone. he could go on and on for hours.

“18.”

“real,” luke snorted, remembering the first time travis pitched the idea for the song to the band, “but not my experience. it was trav. he met this girl at one of our gigs in new york, right after we got signed, and he was obsessed. she was a freshman at nyu and she kept telling him he was too young for her, even though she was just less than a year older. trav was hooked.”

you could picture it. it was definitely something travis would do. “okay, another one of my favorites. only angel?”

“not real,” luke shook his head, a slight blush creeping up on his face. “if you tell anyone, five star, i will vehemently deny it, but i had a crush on jade west from victorious and i wrote it about her.”

there was something about jade west that made luke like a love-sick puppy. ignoring the fact that she was hot, her attitude was something that luke was attracted to. she had a tough exterior and acted like she didn’t care about people, but she had her moments where she was soft and kind to the people she cared about the most. luke liked that. the idea that someone could be sensitive but only to the people they deemed worthy.

he’d spent so much of his life trying to be worthy, in whatever way the stage of his life defined it, and he craved it– a pat on the back, an approval, a confirmation that he was worthy of it.

you threw your head back laughing, surprised by his ridiculous confession. the sound of your laughter rang across the woods, making luke smile. your voice echoed throughout the trees and he his senses were surrounded by you. it hit luke like a truck.

he sucked in a breath, taking out his phone. he jolted from his seat for more than one reason. “shit, five star. we gotta go.”

you took out your phone too, checking the time. your eyes widened as you got up from your seat. you threw his hoodie over to him, “fuck, we’re late.”

the two of you raced out of the woods, arriving to the concert venue with flushed faces and rapid breaths. you could feel clarisse’s knowing eyes on you as you got ready for the concert. you tried your best to ignore it. you were going to deal with that later.

–

“and for the final event, i know you guys are looking forward to this one,” your dad laughed into the mic. the sun was long gone and there were disco lights illuminating the stage. a smoke machine was on either corner, making it difficult to see the bottom half of the stage. you and clarisse stood in the front row, listening to the deafening cheers of the campers. “ladies and gents, welcome poisoned mercury!”

the screams got louder which you didn’t even know was possible. travis entered the stage first, sticking his tongue out as he expertly twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. connor came in next, smiling and waving at the crowd as he plugged his guitar into the amp. chris walked in with his bass strapped around his neck, eyes immediately finding clarisse and sending her a shy smile. you nudged her teasingly, enjoying the way she blushed under the lights.

then luke castellan walked in. he ditched his hoodie and t-shirt and walked in with a white tank top on, messing with the curls on his head. he tugged on the silver necklace around his neck as his eyes scanned the crowd. he threw a wink to the group of the older girls in the back, turning to travis to let out a laugh at their reaction. the lights on the boys were blinding and a thin layer of sweat already began to form on their skin despite the bite to the air.

luke took center stage, picking up his guitar. he leaned over directly in front of you, fingers pretending to mess with the wires connecting his guitar to the speakers, “hey, five star.”

he straightened his back before you could reply. clarisse’s eyes darted between you and the boy, now nudging you like you did to her earlier. you rolled your eyes, smiling at the rest of the boys as luke began talking on the mic.

“what’s up, camp half blood?” luke screamed into the mic. the crowd roared. “we’re poisoned mercury and we are so happy to be with you guys here this summer. before we close out this awesome concert, i wanna introduce our lovely band.”

“on drums, we have the one and only, travis stoll!” luke turned around to applaud travis as he did a little drum solo, head banging as he hit the drums. he turned to connor, “on lead guitar, we have the amazing connor stoll!”

connor strummed his guitar, leaning over on the left side to soak in the applause of the crowd. the girls beside you swooned as he unleashed one of his award-winning smiles.

luke faced chris, “and on bass, we have my very best friend in the entire world, my 4lifer, chris rodriguez!” clarisse cheered loudly for chris as he played a tune on his bass, mouthing, “love you, brother,” to luke as he played. the crowd quited for a second as luke addressed them again, “and my name is luke castellan. we’re poisoned mercury!”

you turned around to look at the crowd. the size of the crowd tripled when the boys got on stage. everyone had a smile on their face, excited to hear them play.

“the song we’ll be singing for you guys today is from our debut album,” luke adjusted his mic on the stand. he got closer to it, lips touching the metal, “this is only angel.”

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their song choice. this was not the song they were supposed to sing. they’d been rehearsing kilby girl for the past week. luke saw your reaction, laughing along with you.

the instrumentals began and you nearly missed the beat drop because of the cheers from the crowd. as the song progressed, the boys were one with the music. you watched luke sing, working the crowd like a pro. his skin glistened under the spotlight, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. he approached chris when the chorus started, dragging his mic stand with him. he swung his guitar around so it rested on his back as he sang the lyrics. his curls were sticking to his forehead, eyebrows raised in glee as he performed.

you couldn’t take your eyes off the lead singer, not even when the rest of the band had their own solos in the song. your eyes were glued on luke; how his adam’s apple was on full display as he threw his head back, getting lost in the music, how his arms flexed as he wrapped the mic cord around his fist, how his thin tank top stuck to his body and how it raised when he lifted his arm up to bring the mic closer to his lips. you saw the outline of his abdomen and his v-line.

but what really got you was his face. he looked at peace on stage, a wide smile on his face, full lips pink and glossy as he licked them in between verses. he looked incredible up there, like that was where he belonged. he was born to be on stage like this.

“fuck,” you mumbled, applauding at the end of their song. luke’s eyes found yours as he sang the last bit of the song, smiling at you. you hoped clarisse couldn’t hear you talk to yourself. you looked down at your feet, tugging nervously on the collar of your shirt, “i get it now.”

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

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baelabong · 2 months ago

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ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴇᴍɪꜱᴛʀʏ

ɪᴅᴏʟ!ʏᴜᴊɪɴ x ɪᴅᴏʟ!ꜰᴇᴍʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

plot: yujin hates you (no she doesnt)

notes: fluff, lowkey mean yujin, uhm interesting ending, 4.5k words

You were in the middle of rehearsals with your group, sweat dripping down your forehead as you practiced the same routine for what felt like the hundredth time. The music blared from the speakers, and you were so focused on perfecting the steps that you almost missed the buzz of your phone vibrating on the floor next to your water bottle. During a quick break, you grabbed it, expecting just another routine notification.

But as you glanced at the screen, your eyes widened in shock.

“BREAKING: LE SSERAFIM’s Y/N and IVE’s Yujin to Perform a Special Stage at the MAMA Awards!”

Your heart immediately began to race. Yujin. You were paired with Yujin. The thought sent a wave of nervous excitement through you, but it also made your stomach churn with anxiety. Yujin, with her cool, enigmatic persona that captivated everyone who saw her, was practically your opposite. You, with your vibrant, extroverted stage presence, had always thrived on energy and enthusiasm, while Yujin was known for her composed and almost mysterious demeanor.

How on earth was this pairing supposed to work?

You barely noticed when Kazuha walked into the practice room, her face glowing with curiosity. She’d clearly seen the same news you had.

“Hey, did you see the news?” Kazuha asked, her voice a mix of excitement and concern.

You nodded, still staring at your phone as if the words might change if you looked away. “Yeah, I saw it. I… I can’t believe it. Yujin… out of all people.”

Kazuha chuckled lightly, leaning against the wall. “What? Are you nervous?”

You let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through your hair. “Nervous? More like terrified,” you admitted. “She’s just so… *cool*. I’m the complete opposite. How are we supposed to make this work?”

Kazuha gave you a teasing grin, trying to lighten the mood. “Opposites attract, right? Maybe this is your chance to balance each other out.”

You sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “Or completely crash and burn,” you muttered. “I don’t even know if she likes me. She’s always so distant… what if she doesn’t even want to do this?”

Kazuha’s expression softened as she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, you’re amazing at what you do. If anyone can make this work, it’s you. You’ve faced challenges before, and you’ve come out stronger every time.”

You appreciated her words, but the anxiety still gnawed at you. Yujin wasn’t just any challenge—she was *Yujin*. How were you supposed to find common ground with someone who seemed so different from you?

“I just don’t want to mess this up,” you admitted quietly. “This is a huge opportunity, and if we don’t click on stage, everyone’s going to notice.”

Kazuha nodded, understanding the pressure you were feeling. “Just take it one step at a time. You don’t have to figure everything out right away. Maybe Yujin is just as nervous as you are.”

The thought had never crossed your mind. Yujin, nervous? It seemed impossible, but maybe, just maybe, beneath that calm exterior, she was feeling the same apprehension.

“Yeah, maybe,” you said, though you weren’t entirely convinced. “I guess I’ll just have to find out.”

“Exactly. And who knows? You might surprise each other,” Kazuha said with a supportive smile. “Just remember, you’re Y/N. You’ve got this.”

——

You arrived at the practice room a bit earlier than usual, trying to get your nerves under control before she showed up. The news that you’d be performing a special stage with Yujin from IVE had thrown you for a loop. The two of you were supposed to cover an intimate dance to Taeyang and Jimin’s “VIBE,” and the thought of it was both thrilling and terrifying.

When you walked in, you found Yujin already there, stretching by the mirrors. She looked as poised as ever, her movements fluid and graceful. For a moment, you hesitated, your heart pounding as you watched her. You’d always admired her from afar—her cool, enigmatic presence on stage was mesmerizing—but working this closely with her was something else entirely.

“Hey, Yujin,” you called out, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “Ready to rehearse?”

Yujin looked up and gave you a small nod. “Yeah, let’s get started.”

The two of you began running through the choreography, the sensual moves of “VIBE” requiring you to be in sync, your bodies close as you danced. You quickly noticed how different your styles were—where you liked to add bursts of energy and playful flair, Yujin was all about control, each move deliberate and precise.

As the music played, you couldn’t help but add your own twist to a particular sequence, hoping to make the performance more dynamic. But as soon as you did, Yujin stopped, a slight frown on her face.

“Let’s stick to the routine,” she said firmly, her voice cool but not unkind.

You paused, a bit taken aback. “I just thought we could add a little more emotion, make it more... engaging. This dance is all about the connection, right?”

Yujin’s expression didn’t change. “We need to be precise if we want to pull this off. Improvising could throw off our timing.”

You sighed, trying to keep your frustration in check. “I get that, but this dance is about more than just the steps. It’s about the chemistry between us. We need to show that we’re feeling the music, not just following a script.”

Yujin crossed her arms, looking at you with those unreadable eyes. “And we will. But we can’t afford to make mistakes on stage. If we mess up, it won’t just be obvious—it’ll ruin the entire mood.”

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself, realizing that pushing her would only make things worse. The rest of the rehearsal passed with the same underlying tension, your enthusiasm clashing with Yujin’s insistence on precision. By the time you wrapped up for the day, the air between you was thick with unspoken frustration.

—————-

The next day, you arrived at the practice room earlier, determined to smooth things over after the tension from yesterday. You needed to talk to Yujin, but as soon as you walked in, you could feel the heavy atmosphere. Yujin was already there, sitting on the floor, scrolling through her phone with an irritated expression.

You hesitated for a moment before setting down your bag and beginning to stretch, hoping to ease into the conversation. As you reached up to stretch your arms, you caught Yujin staring at you in the mirror. Her eyes quickly darted away, and you noticed a faint flush on her cheeks.

“Uh, morning,” you said, trying to sound casual, even though the moment was charged with unspoken tension.

“Morning,” Yujin replied curtly, her tone cold, as she looked back at her phone, her expression hardening once more.

You sighed internally, realizing this wasn’t going to be easy. “Listen, about yesterday…”

Yujin cut you off, her voice sharp. “What about it? You didn’t want to stick to the routine, and I did. Simple as that.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the edge in her voice. “I wasn’t trying to mess things up, Yujin. I just thought—”

“You thought what?” she snapped, her eyes flashing as she finally looked up at you. “That you knew better? That your little flourishes would somehow make everything perfect?”

You felt your face flush with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “That’s not fair. I was just trying to bring more emotion into the performance. This song is about connection, about the vibe between us. We can’t just go through the motions.”

Yujin scoffed, getting to her feet. “And I suppose you think I don’t understand that? That I don’t know how to connect with an audience?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” you protested, feeling your patience start to fray. “I know you’re amazing at what you do, but we’re supposed to be working together. We need to find a way to make both our styles work.”

Yujin crossed her arms, glaring at you. “You don’t get it, do you? We’re not here to experiment. We’re here to deliver a flawless performance. If you can’t stick to the plan, then maybe you’re the one who needs to adjust.”

Her words stung, the accusation hanging in the air between you. For a moment, you were speechless, trying to figure out how to respond.

Finally, you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. “Look, I get that you’re under pressure. We both are. But I’m not trying to sabotage anything. I just think we can make this performance more than just technically perfect. We can make it unforgettable.”

Yujin’s expression softened just a fraction, though her eyes were still hard. “Fine,” she said after a long pause, her voice grudging. “We’ll try it your way. But if it doesn’t work, we’re doing it my way, no questions asked.”

You nodded, relieved that she was at least willing to compromise, even if she wasn’t happy about it. “Deal.”

Yujin turned away, her posture still stiff as she walked back to the center of the room. “Let’s just get this over with.”

————

It had been a tough few days. The pressure of preparing for the upcoming performance, combined with the lingering tension between you and Yujin, was starting to take its toll. You could feel the stress building inside you, making it hard to focus, let alone enjoy what you were doing. As you headed to the dressing room for a short break, you couldn't help but sigh, wishing for just a little relief from the constant strain.

When you walked into the dressing room, your eyes immediately fell on something unusual—a small, neatly wrapped box sitting on the counter. Puzzled, you walked over to it and hesitated for a moment before picking it up. The box wasn’t labeled, and there was no note attached. Curiosity piqued, you carefully opened it to reveal an assortment of your favorite snacks.

For a moment, you just stared at the contents, feeling a rush of surprise and warmth. Whoever had left these had clearly put some thought into it. The timing was perfect—exactly when you needed a bit of comfort. But who could have known that? And more importantly, who would have taken the time to do something like this for you?

You turned the box over in your hands, searching for any clue about the sender, but there was nothing. It left you both puzzled and touched, a small smile forming on your lips despite the stress you’d been feeling. It was a simple gesture, but it meant more to you than words could express.

Later, during a break in rehearsals, you sat down near Yujin, who was scrolling through her phone with a relaxed, almost indifferent expression. The air between you two had been less strained since your last conversation, but things were still a bit awkward. You decided to mention the snacks, partly out of curiosity and partly to share a bit of your day.

“Someone left these snacks for me in the dressing room earlier,” you said, trying to keep your tone light and casual. “It was a nice surprise, but I can’t figure out who did it.”

Yujin barely looked up from her phone, her voice calm and disinterested. “You looked like you needed something to lift your spirits. Don’t think too much about it.”

Her words took a moment to register. When they did, you turned to look at her, your eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Wait… you’re the one who left them?”

Yujin shrugged, still not meeting your gaze, as if it wasn’t worth making a big deal out of. “Yeah. Like I said, don’t overthink it. It’s just some snacks.”

You were taken aback, not just by the gesture but by how casually she brushed it off. This was the same Yujin who had been so distant, so critical during rehearsals, and now she was the one who had gone out of her way to do something kind for you? It didn’t fit the image you had of her, and that only made it more surprising.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that from you,” you admitted, your voice tinged with disbelief. “You always seem so�� I don’t know, focused on work.”

Yujin finally glanced up at you, her expression as unreadable as ever. “Just because I’m focused doesn’t mean I don’t notice things. You looked stressed, so I figured a little something might help. That’s all.”

You stared at her, unsure how to respond. It was clear she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but the gesture meant more to you than she realized. It wasn’t just about the snacks—it was the fact that she’d noticed your stress and had taken it upon herself to do something about it, even if she wouldn’t admit it outright.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your gratitude evident in your tone.

Yujin gave a slight nod, already returning her attention to her phone. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t expect it to become a habit.”

————

The rumor mill had been in overdrive since yesterday, with whispers about you and TXT's Yeonjun supposedly being spotted together. You’d tried to ignore it, but the tension was palpable, especially during rehearsals. Yujin, who had been cold and distant since the rumors started, was even more aloof than usual. It was hard not to notice the way she avoided eye contact, her responses clipped and short whenever you tried to talk to her.

Today’s rehearsal was particularly rough. You were struggling with the choreography, your mind too distracted by the swirling rumors and Yujin’s sudden coldness. Every time you missed a step or stumbled, you could feel the frustration building inside you, and it didn’t help that Yujin seemed to be watching you, her expression unreadable.

What you didn’t notice was how, subtly and without a word, Yujin began adjusting the routine. She simplified certain moves, made transitions smoother, all without drawing attention to herself. By the time you finished the session, you were exhausted but relieved that the choreography seemed easier, more manageable.

As you sat down to catch your breath, you started to realize something had changed. The routine was definitely different, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on how or when it had happened.

“Did someone change the routine?” you asked aloud, looking around at the others. “It’s a bit easier now… not that I’m complaining.”

Yujin, who had been stretching nearby, looked up briefly, her tone flat as she replied. “We all agreed on it. It’s just a small adjustment, nothing worth mentioning.”

You blinked, surprised by her nonchalance. “I didn’t even notice. Thanks… I guess.”

Yujin shrugged, her eyes focused on something in the distance. “No need for thanks. It’s just what needed to be done.”

There was something about the way she said it—so detached, so indifferent—that made you feel uneasy. It was as if she was trying to distance herself, to make it clear that this was purely professional, nothing more.

As you continued to watch her, a knot formed in your stomach. The rumor with Yeonjun couldn’t possibly be bothering her, could it? Yujin was always so composed, so focused on her work. But now, with the way she was acting, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind her cold shoulder.

As you started to leave the practice room, Yujin suddenly called out, her voice cutting through the quiet. “Y/N, can we talk for a minute?”

You turned back, surprised. “Sure, what’s up?”

Yujin waited until the room had cleared out, her expression unreadable. Once you were alone, she looked at you directly, her eyes sharp. “Is there something going on between you and Yeonjun? I’ve been hearing a lot of talk lately.”

Your heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Why do you ask?”

Yujin crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. “Just curious. Or maybe I’m just tired of the rumors affecting our work.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Yujin’s phone buzzed loudly. She glanced at the screen and her face momentarily froze. “Forget it,” she said quickly, her voice suddenly distant. “It’s not important. We should get back to practice.”

You watched her, a mix of confusion and concern on your face. “Yujin, wait—”

But Yujin was already walking away, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

————-

The day of the awards show had arrived, and the backstage area buzzed with frenetic energy. Performers were rushing around, finalizing their looks and going through last-minute preparations. The atmosphere was electric, but for you, it was tinged with a heavy layer of stress. You tried to stay focused and calm, but the weight of the recent tensions with Yujin and the pressure of the performance made it difficult.

As you paced backstage, rehearsing your routine in your mind, you accidentally bumped into Yujin, who was in the midst of adjusting her elaborate outfit. Your water bottle slipped from your hand, and a splash of water hit her dress, leaving a noticeable wet stain.

Yujin’s eyes widened as she looked down at her ruined outfit. Her calm, collected demeanor shattered in an instant. “Great, now my outfit is ruined! Can’t you be more careful?” Her voice was sharp, her frustration evident.

You froze, your face turning crimson with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Yujin cut you off before you could finish, her irritation turning into a biting reprimand. “You’re always so careless. This is important, and you’re not taking it seriously.”

Your nerves were already frayed, and her harsh words only served to heighten your anxiety. “I am taking it seriously! I’m just trying to stay positive in a stressful situation. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

The tension between you two was palpable. You could see the frustration etched on Yujin’s face, and it mirrored your own feelings of distress. The stress of the performance, combined with the unresolved tension from the previous day, was taking a toll on both of you.

Yujin’s anger seemed to hang in the air, mingling with the general chaos of the backstage area. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence thick with unspoken words and mounting frustration.

Then, after a tense pause, Yujin let out a deep breath and reached into her bag. She pulled out a clean towel and handed it to you, her expression softening just a touch. “Here. Use this to clean up the mess.”

You took the towel, the gesture slightly easing the tension. “Thanks,” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the lingering hurt.

Yujin nodded curtly, her gaze briefly meeting yours before she turned away to deal with her outfit. “Just… be more careful next time,” she said, her tone less harsh but still carrying a note of frustration.

You wiped up the water, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering discomfort. The backstage environment, usually a place of camaraderie and support, felt strained and charged with unresolved issues. The weight of Yujin’s irritation and the recent rumors about you and Yeonjun were hanging heavily over both of you.

As you worked to clean up the mess, you stole a glance at Yujin. She was busy adjusting her outfit, her movements quick and purposeful. It was clear she was trying to maintain her composure, but the stress was evident in the way she handled her costume. You wondered if the rumors had been affecting her more than she let on.

With the clock ticking down to your performance, you took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand. You knew you had to push aside the personal tensions and give it your all on stage. The performance was about to begin, and despite everything, it was your moment to shine.

As you prepared to step out onto the stage, Yujin’s earlier comment echoed in your mind. The unresolved tension between you was a heavy weight, but you had to concentrate on the performance and hope that, once it was over, you could find a way to address the lingering issues.

The moment you stepped into the spotlight, the excitement of the audience and the adrenaline of the performance took over. But as you glanced back at Yujin, waiting in the wings, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the unresolved tension between you was far from over.

—————

The awards show had concluded, and the green room was abuzz with post-performance excitement. You and Yujin, having navigated through the highs and lows of the day, found a quiet corner away from the crowd. The initial hostility and tension between you had eased considerably, giving way to a newfound understanding and mutual respect. The performance had gone off without a hitch, and the camaraderie you’d developed during the stressful preparations was evident in your interaction.

You sat side by side on a plush couch, the room’s lights dimmed and the noise of the celebration muffled. There was a moment of silence as both of you caught your breath and reflected on the journey that had brought you to this point.

“I was so wrong about you,” you said, breaking the silence. “I thought we’d never get along.”

Yujin glanced at you, her expression a mix of curiosity and nonchalance. “People aren’t always what they seem.”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “I guess I’m starting to see that. Thanks for everything… even the things you pretend you didn’t do.”

Yujin smirked, her eyes meeting yours with a hint of amusement. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

The conversation seemed to settle into a comfortable rhythm until Yujin suddenly took a deep breath, as if gathering her thoughts for something significant. She turned to you, her usual composure giving way to a more vulnerable demeanor.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to say,” Yujin began, her voice slightly shaky. “I’ve been trying to keep my feelings in check because, well, I know you’re supposedly with Yeonjun and all. I’ve been... you know, trying not to get too involved. But I just—”

She fumbled for words, her usual calm demeanor giving way to an awkward babble. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t like me back or anything. I understand that you’re with him, and it’s fine. I just thought, maybe, if I didn’t say anything, I could avoid making things weird. But now that we’ve been through all this, I thought I should at least be honest. I really like you, Y/N. Like, a lot. And it’s totally fine if you don’t feel the same way. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you. I just didn’t want to leave things unsaid…”

She trailed off, her eyes wide with a mixture of anxiety and resignation. She stared at you, waiting for a reaction, clearly unsure of how her confession had landed.

You listened to Yujin’s confession, unable to hold back a chuckle as you took in her babbling. The way she had blurted everything out, her anxiety palpable, struck you as both endearing and amusing.

Yujin’s face flushed with embarrassment as she watched your reaction. “Did I—say something wrong? I mean, you’re laughing…”

You shook your head, a warm smile spreading across your face. “No, it’s not that. I’m not actually dating Yeonjun.”

Yujin blinked, clearly taken aback. “You’re not?”

You shook your head again, laughing softly. “Nope. It was just a rumor. I thought it would die down, but it’s been hanging around.”

Yujin’s confusion slowly transformed into relief and then into a hopeful smile. “Oh… well, that’s a relief. I mean, it makes things a lot clearer.”

As you both sat there, Yujin’s phone buzzed, and she checked it briefly. Her eyes widened slightly, and she looked back at you with a more serious expression. “Actually, there’s something else I need to tell you. It’s about—”

Before she could finish, Yunjin walked into the green room, her presence immediately noticeable. Her eyes met yours, and she gave you a warm, somewhat surprised smile.

“Hey, Y/N. Yujin,” she said, her gaze shifting between you and Yujin. “I heard you two did great out there.”

You immediately saw your chance to clear things up. You stood up and practically threw yourself into Yunjin’s arms, hugging her tightly. “See, baby? I told you I’m not dating Yeonjun!”

Yunjin chuckled softly, wrapping her arms around you and stroking your back. “I know, love. I’m glad to see you two working things out.”

Yujin’s face flushed with realization as she watched the affectionate exchange. “Wait… you two are...?”

Yunjin smiled and nodded, giving you a reassuring look. “Yes, Y/N and I have been together for a while. I guess the rumor about Yeonjun was just that—a rumor.”

Yujin’s expression shifted from embarrassment to a mix of understanding and relief. “Oh… I see. I’m really sorry for the misunderstanding, then.”

As Yujin tried to compose herself, she glanced at you with a mixture of sadness and regret. “Well, now that everything’s clear, I guess I should go…”

You reached out, your heart sinking as you saw the hurt in Yujin’s eyes. “Yujin, wait…”

Yunjin’s eyes flicked between you and Yujin, sensing the tension. “Is everything okay?”

You turned back to Yujin, feeling a pang of guilt. “I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything. I’m really sorry if I—”

Yujin shook her head, trying to hide her feelings behind a mask of composure. “It’s okay. I just... didn’t realize how complicated things were.”

As Yujin walked away, you watched her go with a heavy heart, torn between your affection for Yunjin and the unexpected connection you felt with Yujin. The complexities of the situation left you feeling uncertain. You turned to Yunjin, who looked at you with concern.

“Are you alright?” Yunjin asked softly, sensing your turmoil.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. “I just feel bad. I didn’t mean for things to get so complicated.”

Yunjin took your hand, her eyes searching yours. “We’ll figure it out. For now, let’s focus on us.”

As you and Yunjin embraced, you couldn’t help but think about Yujin. The connection you had felt with her, the way she had been there for you despite everything, left you questioning your own feelings. You wondered if there was something more there, something you hadn't fully acknowledged until now.

The night ended with lingering uncertainties. As you held onto Yunjin, your mind drifted back to Yujin, and you felt a pang of regret. The possibility of having feelings for both of them was daunting, but the truth was you were deeply conflicted.

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mysterycitrus · 7 months ago

Note

how much of your origin for dick is canon and how much of it are your own interpretations? wrt the interpretations, what inspired you to include them?

sooo it’s like a combo of stuff. i subscribe mostly to the backstory we get in dark victory, combined with the retcon from nightwing 96 #11 where dick spends some time in witsec/juvie before getting adopted by bruce. i try to mostly add on or extrapolate on what already exists in canon — like my interpretation of martha waynes pearls as an example — and a lot of that comes in from filling the substantial blanks in mary and johns characterisation

ive said before but i personally prefer that dick isn’t american and is actually, explicitly, a romani character who’s forcibly removed from his community by both trauma and the american legal system. i think it reflects consistently with how he’s written as a teen and adult — he literally finds community everywhere, even if he doesn’t want it, and possesses interpersonal skills that bruce can’t match — but also like…. provides more consistent motivation behind him becoming robin. the idea that possessing physical artefacts of the deceased is discouraged because of spiritual practise makes sense when u think about how dick tangibly honours his parents with the robin mantle. thusly, it makes even more sense why he’d later take the nightwing name to honour clark and the new connections in his life, yknow?

idk i try not to discard canon wholesale for him because he’s sooo foundational for legit every other character in that canon, and changing anything substantially affects everything else. there’d be no tim if tim hadn’t been at the circus that night and didn’t remember dicks kindness. none of the other kids would’ve been adopted if bruce hadn’t seen his own grief reflected in another child losing his parents on a stage. on and on it goes

the only hill i die on is that he’s french and that’s because i think it’s hilarious

#dick grayson #nightwing #dc comics #the ask and the answer

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jenoroyals · 2 months ago

Text

It Started With A Kiss - Park Sunghoon

(based off Japanese anime & drama Mischievous Kiss)

pairing : park sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis : A shooting star destroys your home, forcing you and your father to move in with his old friend. Little did you know, Park Sunghoon, the guy who you'be been in love with for years, also lives there. How are you going to live under one roof with the boy that rejected you just days ago?

word count : 630 words

content/warnings : angst, sunghoon is MAJOR red flag, yn is ditzy and kind of stupid (in a cute way kind of), MAJOR second hand embarrassment, more to be added

featuring : ryujin (itzy), lia (itzy), jisung (nct), wonyoung (ive - later on), isa (stayc - later on)

PROLOGUE

Scribbling down random notes in your notebook, you notice they all say one thing, Mrs. Park y/n. It was already past sunset and he was still running through your mind. A lady’s voice comes from the radio, “When you see a shooting star, make a wish and your wish will come true.”

You quickly rush to open your curtains and walk out onto the balcony. Looking up, you see thousands of stars shining throughout the sky. Shining like diamonds, you can’t help but admire them. Never having to deal with endless feelings, all they do is just look pretty.

As you're admiring the beautiful night, a shooting star passes by. You gasp, remembering the words from the radio, you put your hands together and make a wish.

‘I wish I can tell Sunghoon how I feel about him.’

You smile after thinking about the said boy for the 100th time that night. Walking back into your bedroom, you shut the balcony door and jump right into bed.

As the sun starts to rise up, you get up out of bed and start to get ready. Sliding the skirt over your waist and buttoning up your shirt, you slide your hands against the clothes, smoothing them out. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you smile brightly.

Your dad always said not to dress up so pretty for boys, but instead for yourself. But you couldn’t help it. You were going to be talking to Sunghoon for the first time in your life. Of course you wanted to look your best.

Once you arrive at school, you’re instantly running around the high school looking for Sunghoon. Other students have already started gathering at the school, yet there was no sign of him.

Finally, you see him walking towards the entrance, alone. You smoothed over your uniform for the thousandth time that morning and let out a deep exhale while receding your letter in your head.

“Dear Park Sunghoon,

Nice to meet you Sunghoon. My name is l/n y/n, I’m in Class F. You don't know me, but I know you. Since you made a speech at the entrance ceremony two years ago, I have been admiring your intelligence and handsome face.

There is no way that I can be in the same class as you, this is why I am writing this letter to you. When I first saw you, I felt like I was hit by a shooting star. I started to have special feelings for you.”

You slowly start walking towards him with a smile on your face. “Excuse me.” You say facing him. He gives you a stern look with a blank expression and answers, “Who are you?”

You take a breath again before continuing, “I’m l/n y/n from Class F. Could you please read this?” You hold out the letter with both of your hands and smile, waiting for him to take the letter.

He stares down at the letter and then looks back up to you. Your smile widens but it quickly falls when you hear his answer.

“I don’t want it.” He states while walking away, not sparing you another glance. You’re standing there frozen with students passing by and staring at you.

Your body felt stuck. As much as you wanted to move as not to get more embarrassed your body wouldn't let you. The wind picks up and blows the letter out of your hand, but you’re in so much shock that you can’t even comprehend to go look for it.

As the letter sweeps through the air, it finally lands right in front of Sunghoon who steps on it accidentally, but he doesn’t bother to look back. He keeps his head up and continues walking to his class.

#sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon fic #enhypen #enhypen fic #park sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut #sunghoon drabbles #enha smut

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luinhealthcare · 2 months ago

Note

(hey so remember way back when I asked about what the boys were learning and brady arrhythmias came up? and I said I was willing to learn about those too? yeah so you can save this ask for whenever you'd like but like I am Down to learn more from the boyos)

Content warning: detailed discussion about IVs and needles

“Twi, if you’re gonna be floated to the ED so much, you need to act like a legit ED tech,” Warriors huffed, waving a hand. “Honestly, it’s just sad that you can’t start IVs.”

“EMTs don’t do IVs in the field,” Twilight fired back grumpily. “You can’t expect me to use a skill I never learned! And I can’t help that they keep floating me down here.”

“Tsk, don’t be so annoyed about it, you love being with us,” Warriors replied with a snort. “We’re far more exciting.”

“Also fewer kids.” Legend shuddered. “I hate pediatrics.”

“You don’t like kids?” Twilight asked before thinking about it. “Yeah, you know what, that sounds about right. They’d be too honest about your grouchy demeanor.”

Warriors wheezed while Legend glared at his friend. “Shut up! I mean I don’t want to deal with them being sick and hurt. I don’t have a bunch of experience with pediatrics, anyway.”

“That’s fair,” Twilight conceded. “But the point is, the advanced providers did the IVs, not me. I’m just a basic EMT.”

“Well, you’re gonna learn IVs now,” Warriors clapped his hands together. “If you’re stuck with us enough, we’re going to put you to work!”

Twilight hummed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Is this even allowed?”

“Dude, EMTs start IVs all the time in the ED,” Legend explained. “Wars isn’t wrong.”

“Well… fine.” Twilight finally conceded, shrugging. “What do I need to know?”

Warriors and Legend smiled at each other conspiringly. Five minutes later, the pair had managed to snag supplies for starting a line and a victim.

Twilight stared at Wild. “How’d they rope you into this?”

“Legend said he’d taken me to the fancy restaurant we talked about the other day,” Wild answered cheerfully, holding his arm out. “Now hop to it already!”

“W-wait, I don’t even know what I’m doing!” Twilight waved his friend off, swatting his arm away.

“All right, the first thing you need to know about starting an IV is what to look for,” Legend explained. “Doesn’t matter what you use if you can’t find a suitable vein.”

“Now, you have to understand this about veins,” Warriors continued as he showed his own arm. “They have personalities, they have good and bad days, they have their own drama and problems.”

“Veins have drama,” Twilight repeated, deadpan, while Wild wheezed.

“Okay, but I’ve got to hear the tea from Twi’s veins,” Wild laughed. “What—what even constitutes as vein drama, Wars?”

“Lots of things,” Warriors answered, grabbing Legend’s arm, causing his friend to yelp. “For example, Legend’s constantly dehydrated, so his veins are probably on strike and in hiding.”

“Hey!”

Warriors then pointed at a vein popping out of his own arm. “I, on the other hand, have veins that are clear as day because I hydrate.”

“That’s not tea,” Wild grumbled, rolling his eyes. “What if Twilight’s arm vein is best friends with his wrist vein but then his arm vein is secretly best friends with his armpit vein and the wrist vein feels betrayed?”

“Alternatively, Twilight could be an illicit drug user and shoots up and his veins are destroyed as a result,” Legend cut in dully. “That’s vein drama.”

“The point,” Warriors said loudly, trying to redirect the conversation. “Is that you have to know what you’re looking for. Seeing a vein isn’t always the answer. Feeling them is the main thing.”

“Feeling them?” Twilight asked.

Legend grabbed a tourniquet and tied it around Wild’s arm. “Yeah. Good veins are bouncy. That means they have enough plumpness to them that you can use them to draw blood and give medicine. Those little spidery veins you see but can’t feel are useless for that. Putting a tourniquet on allows back pressure to build up in veins, which helps plump them up.”

“Does the hand pumping them do anything?” Wild asked as he flexed his fist.

Warriors shrugged. “Eh. Sometimes. Not always, though. Your biggest help is gravity and heat. If you’re having trouble finding a vein, put the tourniquet on and let the arm hang with that gravity helps blood not flow back to the heart in that extremity. It’s fighting an uphill battle trying to go up the arm, you know? Helps the blood pool in the vein.”

“Heat makes them pop up too,” Legend added.

“Veins love massages,” Warriors said, pointing a finger in the air like this was an important fact. “Rub the spot where you expect the veins to be, friction and heat bring them up.”

Twilight laughed as he poked around Wild’s arm with his finger. “I guess they do have personalities. A little.”

“AC is your best friend,” Legend said, pointing in the crook of Wild’s arm. “Bigger vein, closer to the skin, among the easier places to get access.”

“NO.”

Everyone turned to see Four approaching, hands on his hips.

“Do not put the IV in the AC,” Four argued. “Every time the patient bends their arm it cuts off the flow of whatever infusion is going into the IV because the catheter gets kinked!”

“Access is access,” Legend fired back, crossing his arms. “You go for whatever’s quickest and easiest. The point is to keep the patient alive, not worry about your IV pump beeping about an occlusion.”

“Can’t keep them alive if the IV pump is constantly stopping because of an occlusion!” Four snapped. “Upper arm is better!”

“You can hardly get an upper arm vein without ultrasound help,” Warriors rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for that.”

“I got a chest vein once,” Legend noted thoughtfully. “That was interesting.”

“Where’d you put the tourniquet??” Wild asked, eyes wide.

“If you say the neck, I’m punching you,” Twilight grumbled. “You know Wild would believe it.”

Legend cackled.

Warriors sighed, pulling the tourniquet off Wild. “Important to note you can’t keep the tourniquet on too long. Veins get impatient too. Especially on frailer patients. Older veins don’t last too long if you build up too much pressure. They just vanish. Find what you can and go for it.”

“Okay, so put on a tourniquet, look for a vein, look for a bounce because it’s about feel and not seeing it,” Twilight noted. “Then what?”

“Cleanse the site and pick the appropriate sized needle,” Warriors answered. “The size depends on situation and the patient. Traumas and strokes always get 18G at the smallest. Needles go by gauge size. The bigger the gauge, the smaller the needle. In other worlds, 18G is a bigger needle than 20G.”

“Anybody who needs to get contrast in CT has to have an 18G,” Four piped up.

“When in doubt, get an 18 if you can,” Legend summarized.

“Or a 16G,” Warriors smirked.

Legend gave his friend a side eye. “I remember that, you piece of sh—”

Twilight blinked. “Huh?”

Warriors eyes sparkled with delight, and Legend pushed him so hard he fell off his chair, the travel nurse hastily saying, “Don’t worry about it! We’re going to talk about angle of entry now!”

Four bit the inside of his cheek, knowing better than to aggravate Legend as he himself had run into a similar issue and he didn’t need the entire group to know. “Usually when you’re first inserting the needle you want to line it up with the vein, and the bevel—the hole—should be facing upward. The initial stick is at a forty-five degree angle. Basically as soon as you’ve broken the skin and gotten through, you level out so you’re slinking into the vein instead of stabbing through it. Make sense?”

“Yeah,” Twilight nodded. “Then what?”

“You’re going to look for flash,” Legend explained as Warriors dragged himself back into his seat. “Flash is when you see blood in your needle. It’ll either show up in the catheter surrounding the needle or in the little box above the needle called the flash chamber. Depends on the needle make/model. But once you see that, it means you’re in. That’s when you thread the catheter off the needle and pull the needle out. Remember, the only time when a needle is in the patient is during the initial poke. After that the needle is pulled out and the catheter—basically a straw—is all that remains.”

“Now here’s the kicker,” Warriors said as he smoothed his hair. “Some needles are self occluding, and others are not. What that means is you have a straw in a vein pumping blood. An open straw. So if you don’t attach something to it that prevents back flow, you’re going to basically just bleed your patient out over a long time. Some needles prevent back flow until you attach IV sets to it. Others don’t. So to avoid making a giant mess and making your patient pass out, know which one you’re using.”

Wild groaned, leaning back in his seat. “So are you going to stick me or not, I want to eat!”

Twilight bit his lip. “I don’t know if I… I mean, I definitely would rather not let Wild be the first person I poke.”

“We’ll get a training arm,” Legend said easily. “Or you can poke Wars as many times as you like.”

“Hey!”

Four waved the tourniquet in the air like a flag. “When you’re done with everything—attached the extension set, flushed and seen blood return and all that jazz—do not forget to remove the tourniquet.”

“Wait, but we haven’t talked about the extension set,” Twilight said, baffled.

Wild huffed, rising. “That’s it, I’m starting an IV on myself.”

“Oh my gosh, Wild, fine! We’ll go eat!” Legend rolled his eyes while Twilight laughed. “Honestly, you’re such a glutton!”

#asks #lu in healthcare #writing #lu legend #lu warriors #lu wild #lu twilight #This got too long lol I had to stop XD #There’s still more to it but that’s a very basic beginner’s guide to at least getting it started

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yanxidarlings · 10 months ago

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hello !! I've been really interested in your "not slytherin" writing and i think i have reread it more than 20-ish times hahahah since it's really good and you're the reason why i am invested in all these fan characters (since i didnt see what their appeal was before reading your work).

and now speaking of it, I'm now thinking about a specific "what if?" scenario, and that is; what if the suffering the reader goes through becomes so much to the point it transforms them into an obscurial? they have pretty much oppressed all their emotions, all their negativity, for four years— and it broke them. and the angst would be so good for this. the reader would definitely be more than distrustful. they're afraid that since their name has already been burnt off their own family; they would soon be expelled or even worse taken into the ministry for how dangerous they are to the other students. and this would definitely up the yandere factor to another level. they're aware theyre at fault for most of the reader's suffering, and that a single trigger would cause them to burst but then they can't do a single fucking thing about it or else.

not a request, but it's something ive been thinking about for a long time now !! (I'm really new to the hp fandom and ur writing definitely made me want to read more into them so I'm glad i stumbled upon it suddenly ^^)

dude, broski, broskilenski, ur a wizard of some sort because HOW ELSE COULD YOU READ MY MIND

i was considering making the reader an obscurial (my favourite fanfiction trope by far) but hesitent incase it was too farfetched but I HAVE BEEN GIVEN A SIGN

was sitting on not slytherin aye p2 but this ask has given me the inspiration to write

so without further adieu, with compliments to the other not slytherin p2 ask

jaythes1mp asked:

Could you do a part two of your latest fic (at this time) — YANDERE SLYTHERIN BOYS: NOT SLYTHERIN, AYE?

Where all the sudden suffocating affection they’re showing him after years of tournament makes him leave Hogwarts because he’s so terrified. He knows they couldn’t have changed, since they’re still threatening anyone near him. But once news gets around to them that he’s leaving for good? How would they take the news? And if they learn that he’s been disowned from his family? Would that be a good or bad thing — because now they can’t arrange a marriage. And it would be harder to find him if he got out of their grasps.

Would they be forced to team up? Would they force him into an unbreakable vow or blood pact??

Please do my request, I’ll beg. Just ask, I will actually get on my knees and beg. 🙏🙏🙏🙏

i present

YANDERE SLYTHERIN BOYS: NOT SLYTHERIN, AYE? P2

“remember, you have to do anything to be slytherin, no matter what it takes” draco's words replayed in m/n's head. he'd replayed that sentance so much it had become distorted, is that even what he said m/n thought to himself, watching the train pass by.

under his eyes were bags the size of boulders, he hadn't slept in days. not since..

"excuse me, sir" a voice rung in his head. m/n shook his head, he wanted it all to go away, go away, go away- "mister, i'm gonna have to ask you for ID" somesort of internal wiring within him snapped "GO AWAY" m/n screamed, finally turning to face to the person- man.. muggle police officer, that had been addressing him.

the officer moved back, taking a strange device off his uniform and speaking into it "i'm gonna need back-up, barkley" whilst the man was engaged, m/n made a run for it.

"GET BACK HERE YOUNG MAN" the police officer bellowed, chasing after the teenage boy.

running through, down the subway and onto the train tracks, the officer gave up the pursuit. sooner or later the boy would be run over by an oncoming train in the tunnels.

after running for who knows how long, m/n finally slowed to a walking pace. then he stopped. the sound of a horn filled his ears, the pitch black tunnel illuminated by the vehicles headlights. i

it was getting closer

m/n looked around, there was nowhere to go in the narrow tunnel

closer

tears filled his eyes, but instead of sobbing he began laughing, only to break out into a fit of sobs and then revert back to laughter.

it was too close

suddenly a BANG was heard as the train came to a stop, the tunnel filled with black mist, which had somehow crushed the head of the train.

it was not natural, it was.. dark magic.

• it was on the front page of the daily prophet the next day 'OBSCURIAL SIGHTING IN SOUTH LONDON SUBWAY' obscurials were no common occurance, the last one was reported in the 1930's, new york.

• it wasn't a cured illness, no, the circumstances of it's development had simply become less common. children of all blood status' had access to education in order to facilitate their powers, and there were muggleborn programs across the world to ensure they did not develop one either.

• it had the ministry stumped. there were no leads on the obscurus, nor was a body found to sugget the outburst had caused the hosts death.

• albus dumbledore was no stranger to obscurials, he had lost so much to them, his sister, his nephew — but he knew well what power the host of one held. and the key role one could play in the coming war.

• which is why he had to find the obscurial before the ministry, or lord voldemort did.

"i am not here to hurt you, m/n" the headmaster called out, slowly approaching the young wizard, who's wand was drawn. "what spell do you plan to use, child?" the older man chimed, it was no secret m/n l/n was never the best with applied magic, like he was with potions or magical creatures

m/n's wand arm shook, "petrificus totalus" upon speaking the words, his wand shot out a spell, of which dumbledore blocked. hitting into the ground, the concrete began to degrade.

terrified, m/n dropped his wand, eyes glassy and wide "i didn't- i have to go" he stuttered out

"there are people who will hurt you, who will use you as a weapon" dumbledore moved closer to the boy who was now shaking "i can help, you can help, you don't have to be the monster the obscurus compels you to be" they were now face to face, or beard to cheek, as m/n couldn't break his eyes away from the concrete.

when the boy nodded, the headmaster took his arm, and a loud POP sounded through the air.

the next day, m/n attended breakfast as if he had not been missing for the past two weeks.

the headmaster had given him his own room under the guise of spacing issues, perhaps having an escape would make this year less hellish, or maybe spending too much time alone would exuberate his growing instability.

at least he could kill one of his tormenters without any witnesses now.

a couple people stared at him as he made his way to the great hall, lovegood had even greeted him. albeit she held the quibbler she had with her close to her chest.

"salazar!" he heard a familiar voice exclaim from behind him, arms wrapping around him "where have you been, l/n" he didn't like the way malfoy was looking at him, it was soft "i thought- i thought you had done something stup-"

m/n was quick to shove off malfoys embrace, rather roughly, before turning around to walk away.

he was pulled back, he now saw malfoys eyes were glassy, as if he was about to cry. what a baby, m/n thought, he wasn't listening to whatever bollocks was coming out malfoys mouth, instead he just glared "and i'm sorry if i was the reason-"

"malfoy, just go cry about this to the house elves, they get paid to care i don't"

and with that, m/n was off, ignoring zabini and nott who were staring at him as he shoved past.

• as the days went by, his tormentors wouldn't leave him alone, but they weren't doing what they always had, they were being nice. which scared him even more. perhaps because niceness was so foreign or because he knew it had to be a ploy for their next big trick.

• he wanted to be left alone by them but there was no way out. they held him in chokeholds they called hugs and suffocated him with what they called kisses.

• they sat with him in class and one of them was always partnered up with him, but they just wanted to sabotage his grades, and get him expelled.

• they were no longer hostile towards him but towards each other, whenever one caught him with another, they'd fight each other with wits or fists.

• they dragged him to their dorm every night and drew sticks to decide who he would be stuck with for the night. he never slept those nights, they were just waiting for him to fall asleep so they could do something horrible.

• but he rarely ever slept at all these days, which is what contributed to the paranoia that led him to leaving.

• the only reason he stayed was for headmaster dumbledore, who had been attempting to help him learn to control the obscurus, to no avail. when the headmaster was outcast by the ministry, there was no reason to stay and wait to get caught for what he was.

"do you understand your fault, mr l/n" the sickeningly sweet sound of umbridges voice filled his ears, it was more painful than the cuts inflicted on him by the quill he had been forced to write with.

blood was trickling down to the floor, the words that he had been made to write indecipherable, covered in the blood they had drawn. "i must not disrespect the high inquisitor" he uttered, teeth clenched.

"i don't think you understand, mr l/n, twenty more lines"

he remained still, staring at the blood on the carpet, then at the decorative plates embeded with cats, and then at umbridges face.

"i quit"

"pardon, mr l/n?"

m/n stood up out of his chair, dropping the quill on the floor "i'm leaving hogwarts" he threw his wand on the table he had been forced to maim himself at, before storming out of the room.

• the news soon reached the slytherins that their beloved m/n had left the school, leaving them bewildered.

• when draco tried to find the reader by having his father get in contact with the l/n's, it finally hit them that m/n had been disowned, rendering their previous efforts to keep him useless.

BLAISE ZABINI

• blaise is probably the most crushed. his entire plan involved arranging a marriage with the reader, which was now impossible. but what upsets him more is that m/n never even told him. five months and not one mention of being disowned.

• he's mad at the reader until he comes to know the reason for the reader being disowened - because of all he and the other slytherins had done to make it seem like he was a blood traitor.

• blaise hated himself for being a part of it all, but above all, he hated the other slytherins for starting it all. it was draco's fault they all started tormenting him, it was mattheos fault they took it to the extreme.

DRACO MALFOY

• draco had his suspicions from the moment m/n returned, his father had mentioned in passing about the l/n's and how dissapointed they were in their son. but it usually ended in lucius praising draco for being such a good son, so he had never paid it much mind.

• it was his fault, he knew it. he hated feeling powerless but that's what he felt as his father told him m/n hadn't gone back home. m/n didn't have a home. he could be out there all on his own, exposed to the dangers of the muggle world..

• his obsession only grew after m/n left hogwarts, every moment of every day he wondered where he was, if he was okay, if he was with anyone. if he was with anyone he'd end them.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

• enzo had been told by his parents a few months ago they were unable to arrange a marriage because m/n had been disowned. not that he told anyone else, let them think they have him whilst lorenzo makes m/n fall in love with him.

• except his every advance was met with rejection or hostility. and when m/n left for good he was devastated, how were they supposed to live out their love story now?

• lorenzo confronts the other slytherins when the news m/n had left reached them, which is what led to the realization that they were all sickly obsessed with the ravenclaw.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

• something had been strange about m/n the moment he returned, mattheo saw it in his eyes. whether it was what he had gone through the previous years still haunting him, or something else, mattheo tries to get m/n to talk to him, but he's.. mattheo, who once broke m/n's ribcage from beating him.

• it was impossible to foster any trust no matter what he did. he tries to talk about his own struggles, his cruel father and upbringing. he tries to treat m/n like a porcelain doll, but the walls never go down.

• hell hath no rage like a riddle scorned, mattheo would have killed umbridge if tom hadn't stopped him. but he wasn't done with just her, the l/n's were next on his path of rage, and there was little anyone could do to stop him from inflicting a painful death on them

THEODORE NOTT

• theo could barely handle m/n's reluctance to warm up to him, it took every bit of strength in him not to yell and force m/n into opening up, accepting his affection, but m/n not being there at all? theo goes off the rails.

• he fears the worst, what if.. m/n.. theo thinks to himself every moment he's not thinking about how to get him back. when draco tells him m/n was disowned, he broke down crying in the bathroom when he was alone later.

• the world was not safe for a young wizard with no wand or money. what if the dark lord went after him for being a blood traitor. theo went with mattheo to threaten umbridge, and figure out where m/n would have gone.

TOM RIDDLE

• tom could see all the pain m/n was going through when he used legilimency on him. he saw the abuse, the torment, the self hatred, and he knew what the reader had been through and become.

• he's furious that m/n's own parents would disown him, as if he was disposable. it reminded him too much of his own father. but he puts his emotions aside to focus on what really mattered, finding and keeping m/n.

• tom was the only one who had figured out m/n's condition, and used it to his advantage, telling his father that the reader was the obscurus the ministry had been looking for, making m/n voldemorts new target for capture.

tracking down an obscurial was not as simple as the dark lord had anticipated it to be, which is why he delegated the task to his eldest son who had first hand experience with the boy, m/n l/n.

coming to a stop as the sight of the boy filled tom vision, the young death eater watched as m/n stared down his reflection in the water. tom slowly came closer, wand at the ready, until his own reflection revealed his presence.

"you look horrible" the boy turned to face tom as he spoke "you here to kill me, riddle?" m/n sounded resigned, like he had already accepted it.

but that was not what tom was there for. "the dark lord wants you within his ranks" tom stated, avoiding m/n's dead gaze. "what the dark lord wants does not concern me" m/n took a step back, he was scared, tom could tell.

"are you going to make this difficult for me, m/n?" tom took a step closer, snaking an arm around the males waist.

before m/n had the chance to try and stab him in the eye with his own wand, tom stunned him, knocking him out, as lord voldemort came out of the shadows "well done, son" tom looked down at m/n's unconscious face as they apparated. you'll love me oneday.

• the readers condition certainly complicates things for the slytherins, it's no longer simply just subjugate him whether he likes it or not, the readers stability is the difference between life or death, freedom or azkaban for them.

• he becomes the dark lords puppet project, a weapon to use against the order of the phoenix and a tool to keep the future of the death eaters loyal.

• he never returns to hogwarts, tom made sure he was outted as the obscurial so that he'd never have anywhere to run, everywhere he could go he would be seen as a threat, a monster.

• an all-out war breaks out bewteen the slytherins once they have the reader in their grasp again. no one is willing to relent, m/n belongs to them. not the others, them.

• the slytherins would slowly come to the realisation there was no single 'winner', none of them could ever have a normal life with him now the dark lord was back and he had developed an obscurus.

• instead the focus would switch into keeping m/n safe, from voldemort, from himself, from the ministry, from everything.

TOM RIDDLE

• out of all of them, tom can handle m/n's obscurus the best. mostly because he's level headed enough not to set him off. sure he has some sadistic tendencies but at the cost of his own, and surrounding lives?

• tom's obsession was exuberated by the obscurus, it made his darling all the more appealing. to hold such power over someone so powerful is what drives him to sometimes provoke the obscurus, to see what potential m/n truly holds.

• sometimes he goes to far and gets someone or himself seriously injured. he wants to help his darling learn to control the obscurus, but it's hard to acheive when he himself also wants to control his darling.

THEODORE NOTT

• theo is frankly horrified when he finds out m/n had developed an obscurus. he had only ever heard stories about obscurials dying young, after an outburst they can't control.

• he wonders how long m/n had suffered with it for. in the back of his mind, he hopes it was before hogwarts, or else he truly was an absolute piece of shit, to help torment the one he loves most into such a despairful illness.

• theo spends the time he's not with his darling searching through the old pureblood libraries for even a hint of a cure. he wanted to be with his darling forever, but the oldest obscurial only ever lived until 23. theo won't stop until he can figure out how to get rid of the obscurus.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

• mattheo knows he's most likely the reason, above all the other slytherins, for the readers affliction. he was the one who chased him into dark hallways and used the torture curse, the one who said the nastiest things, the one who went the furthest with the torment.

• he wishes he could take all his darlings pain away. because one wrong word, one accidental touch, could send him over the edge. a world without his darling is what scares him the most, above everything fucked up in the wizarding world.

• so he treats m/n like a single bump would shatter him. it's difficult, mattheo isn't exactly the super soft type, but he tries, he knows if any of the slytherins caught m/n looking upset around him they'd end him.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

• enzo underestimates the readers condition, until he finally see's it for himself one day when snape had called m/n a freak, and he exploded. safe to say, it terrified enzo.

• he's under the impression that if he loves m/n enough, the obscurus will go away. deep down he knows it won't, but it helps him justify the heap of affection he doses his darling in. his heart breaks when he's pushed away and he knows pushing back could result in the worst.

• lorenzo is the readers number one caretaker. he always reminds them to eat and get sleep and not to stress about anything. he tries to treat them as normally as possible but it gets difficult when the obscurus mentality kicks in and m/n starts talking about killing them all.

DRACO MALFOY

• draco isn't quite sure how to approach his dear darling after finding out he's an obscurial. draco is overcome with guilt for the hand he had in it, and abominably frustrated he can't just force the reader into doing what he wants.

• when he becomes a death eater he begins to fear for his darlings safety, he hears what the dark lord says about his plans including m/n, and it scares him. there's no regard for m/n's safety or survival, the dark lords only goal is to set m/n off when he takes hogwarts for a quick and easy victory.

• draco tries to get closer to m/n by playing the dependent rich boy, who doesn't know how to do anything for himself. draco figures that if m/n starts to feel responsible for him, it'll be harder for him to leave or say no.

BLAISE ZABINI

• blaises mother told him to stay far away from m/n when she found out. if it were anyone else he would take her advice, but this was his darling, and he could never abandon him over a small imperfection.

• he's the easiest to be around among them all, he doesn't feel the need to always been touching or talking to the reader which is usually what sets him off.

• blaise tries to help m/n settle back into normal life (normal meaning non socially isolated endlessly tormented), but years of torment has taken it's toll in more ways than one. sometimes m/n will accuse blaise and the others of the strangest things, but they all have to take it in stride, or else risk an outburst.

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