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monzabee · 18 hours ago

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run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media.

But this time, it’s different – he's alone.

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own.

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace.

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life.

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment.

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t.

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point.

He clears his throat.

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects.

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?”

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word.

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?”

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.”

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.”

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?”

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down.

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?”

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest.

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut.

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?”

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?”

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.”

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed.

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth.

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.”

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.”

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.”

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–”

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?”

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.”

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–”

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.”

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before.

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–”

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–”

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?”

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation.

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.”

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—”

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–”

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be.

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.”

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.”

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp.

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you.

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.”

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him.

And Lewis knows it.

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind.

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender.

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe.

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel.

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended.

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent.

“Act like this changes everything.”

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words.

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.”

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.”

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears.

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters.

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.”

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him.

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.”

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.”

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?”

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it.

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist.

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.”

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest.

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you.

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment.

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.”

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.”

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.”

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.”

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him.

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.”

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.”

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.”

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.”

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?”

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.”

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory.

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.”

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning.

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body.

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?”

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second.

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.”

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?”

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.”

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.”

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation.

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.”

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes.

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing.

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs.

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-”

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.”

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.”

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now.

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.”

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe.

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly.

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core.

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead.

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.”

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling.

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless.

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender.

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.”

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you.

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat.

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness.

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.”

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you.

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading.

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment.

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you.

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride.

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest.

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?”

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.”

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.”

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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bookishdreamer28 · 2 days ago

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𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓'𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 ❣

Happy new Year everyone! May this new year bring new goals, new achievements, health, happiness and a lot if inspiration to your life!!

And here's my poly!marauders x reader fic! I had no idea what to write or what was going to be the plot in this one, but since it's new year, I thought of writing something sweet and a bit funny to match the vibe! Hope you'll like it, cause I'll post more fics with these boys ^3^

"Oh, she fell asleep?!" Sirius approached your sleeping form on the comfy couch of your dorm room, and kneeled down next to Remus, which he softly brushed your soft hair through his long fingers.

"Yeah..." Remus replied in a dazed look, as he continued keeping his eyes on you. You didn't even had to do anything and he was already hypnotized by you.

"But it's already 23:30! I was waiting for my new year's kiss!" Sirius all pouty, crossed his arms over his strong chest and James laighed lightly at how childish Sirius could be at times. These boys were just obsessed with you. You are their precious little thing and they can't ever get a minute without wanting your love and affection. Just like you do too with them.

"Sshh! Don't you dare wake her up guys or else I'll punch your guts." He said sternly at them and the instantly turned to you again when he heard a soft whimper. When he made sure that you were still asleep, he got up slowly from his crouched position next to your sleeping form, and went to bring your favorite fuzzy blanket to cover your body.

"She's really something else huh?" James said adoringly as he watched you.

"Our precious little thing." Sirius kissed your forehead and held your hand in his, caressing it gently. Remus came back again and covered you with the blanket.

"Can't believe it's been already a year since we met her. It feels like i was just...supposed to happen, you know? We were meant to be together." Sirius continued and Remus smile softly at his boyfriend's words, placing a kiss on the raven haired boy's lips.

James joined them and all three were there with you, like a strong shield to protect you even in your sleep. Sirius placed a comforting arm around Remus shoulder.

Suddenly your body moved making the boys stop talking.

"Look what you've done! You've woken her up!" He furiously told them and he then changed his angry look into a softer one when his eyes fell on you again.

"But we didn't-"

"Sh."

"Oh don't shush me-"

A groan left from your lips.

"Sweetheart? Are you ok?" His voice low and soft, trying not to scare you in your sleepy state with loud noises. When you didn't replied, Remus got nervous. He knew he was overreacting again, but the nonstop scenarios in his head could calm his nerves.

He shook slightly your body, not caring about ruining your sleep now, since his only concern was to see your beautiful eyes open.

"Remus, just a minute ago you were about to chop our heads off for waking her up! Don't tell me that you start maling scenarios that something is wrong because as you can clearly see she's fine! She probably got a bit tired-" He tried to push his hand away from your shoulder but then a sudden movement caught him off guard as he almost lost his balance.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Your head knocked on Sirius forehead and you both groaned at the impact.

"My goodness you're ok?!" James approached you, with a worried look on his face. You looked up at Sirius touching his forehead and instantly climbed on his lap. His arm instinctively wrapped around your waist and held you.

"I'm so sorry Sirius. I thought-"

"I'm ok pretty baby don't worry about me. Are you ok though?" His fingers traced on your forehead to see if there was a pump forming.

"I'm fine." You chuckled and the sound was like a music to his ears. Not being able to resist, he cradled your face and kissed you like you were the oxygen he so desperately needed.

"Did you have wine before us or something?" James teased and you rolled your eyes at him, which made him pinch your cheek in return softly.

"No! I just felt a bit tired." You yawned and Sirius let you lay your head on his chest, as he placed one hand on the side of your face to keep you close to him.

"Remus? What is it?" James voice broke you from daydreaming with Sirius and turned to look at him. Hsi hand was on his chest and you instantly got up from Sirius lap and went to his side.

"Remi what-"

"Can you please stop scaring me like this?!"

"But i didn't-"

"You'll sleep on my bed tonight."

"Hey she'll sleep on mine tonight!" Sirius angrily said but James pushed him to the side.

"Nope it's me. She's sleeping on mine."

"What I say goes. She'll sleep on mine and that's final." Remus placed you on his legs and hugged your waist tightly. You laughed at how ridiculous he sounded but he pinched the soft skin of your thighs slightly making you flinch and glare at him playfully.

"Stupid dorm rooms having so many beds." Sirius murmured but instead of arguing more, he laid his head on your thighs, placing a kiss on them.

"Remi there's no need to be this dram-"

"Don't make me repeat myself baby." He breathed against your neck, making you squirm in your seat, pulsating with need for more affection.

James sat next you, ans held your hand in his giving it a small lingering kiss.

"I think it's my turn to kiss you now." He mumbled against your lips and you sighed at how perfect felt against yours. Too busy kissing and hugging your boys, you didn't notice how it was already midnight. But that was until the noise of the fireworks outside the room's window could be heard, making you all stood up to take a better look at the magnificent sigh of colorful lights filling the sky.

"Happy New Year my loves!" You happily said as you all shared more hugs and kisses. But in the moment of exchanging wishes and love words, Sirius grabbed your hand and pulled along his side to his bed.

"Sirius what-" the other two boys had now a frown on their faces, and you tried to hold back a laugh.

"Nah ah. She's all mine now." He said and laid you ont top of him making you yelp, as Remus and James rushed in to "save" you. It was all perfect.

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heeambi · 2 days ago

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⊹. ˙ Midnight Mischief ⌒⌒.

Pair ups 、ni-ki x reader Featuring 、jake

⥼﹒ You decided to sneak into the practice room late at night to leave a note for Ni-ki…. But you're caught in the act by Ni-ki, who teases you mercilessly, and Jake, who walks in at the worst possible moment ﹒ 、

εϊз﹒ Nat’s notes — I am so so sorry for not posting. I've just been so exhausted and didn't have the motivation at all :d ◞

It was about 11:30 pm, and the practice was supposed to be empty. You had checked the schedules three times to make sure no one would be there.

You had a folded note in your hand and it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, but you were determined to leave it in ni-ki’s bag before leaving unnoticed.

You began crepting into the practice room, your sneakers squeaking slightly on the polished floor. Ni-ki’s bag was just right there and where it would always be, it was slouched against the wall by the mirror. You crouched down slowly and carefully made your way towards the bag as you tucked the note into your pocket.

“Gotcha brotha!”

You never screamed so loud in your life and you nearly fell backward as ni-ki popped out of no where, turns out he was hiding right behind the couch, a mischievous grin formed in his face.

“What are you even doing here ?” he asked, his arms crossed and his eyes sparkling with amusement. “l-listen! I thought no one was here!” you stammered, trying to look anywhere else but him.

“Well, I was about to leave, but then I saw you sneaking around like a ninja. So, What does the note say, hm?” he made a dramatic reach for the note in her hand.

“It's nothing!” You practically lunged to black him from the note, your face burning. “It isn't for you. I mean—it’s not even important!”

Ni-ki raised his brow, clearly not buying anything you're saying. “Oh, so you were just sneaking off into the practice room at midnight to leave a note for… the floor? Sounds mad legit.”

But before you could protest, the door had swung open, and Jake stepped in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Why are you two yelling?? It's midnight—”

Jake froze in his tracks, his gaze bouncing between you and ni-ki, who was trying to grab something like a note with a sly grin.

“What the hell,” Jake said, suddenly completely wide awoke. “Did I walk in on something? Should I leave or??”

“Erm, no!” you yelped, literally mortified.

“Oh, definitely not,” ni-ki replied at the same time, clearly enjoying himself.

Jake then leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “I’ll stay, this looks interesting.”

Ni-ki finally managed to pulled the note out of her hand, holding it up like a trophy he just won. You tried to snatch if? But he was way too quick.

He then quickly unfolded the paper, his grin only widening as he reads the first words aloud. “Ni-ki, I think you're really funny and talented, and I—”

“Uh, that's enough!” you managed to grab the note from his hand, crumpling it in your fist.

Ni-ki looked at you, his teasing expression softening. “Aw, you think I'm funny and talented?”

Jake gasped dramatically. “Woah…. Is this a confession??”

You wanted to melt right into the floor. “No! Well… maybe? Can you both just please forget that this even happened?”

Ni-ki titled his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Mmm, I don't know…. I think I kinda of like this little midnight ninja thing you had going on.”

Jake snorted. “Oh my god, you’ll never live this down. I'm telling everyone!!”

“Jake!” you shouted, chasing after him out the practice room as ni-ki laugh echoed behind them.

And the very next morning, you had found a note in your bag saying “I think you're pretty cute and funny and talented too. — Ni-ki”

taglist 、@mydearyeseo @senazzzz @jeoism

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axolotl4days · 1 day ago

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Batman Dead Daughter AU part 2

I'm so sorry this took so long, I ment to post this like the day after the first one but I kept getting distracted and didn't have time to write it TwT

Anyways-

We are starting off with Damian after patrol and approaching Bruce

I also realized how my writing is a lot closer to script in the last one, especially with the dialog, and it's something I'll work on

Without further a due: Angst :D

Damian POV:

'This is really unordinary, first a new student in the middle of the year, who looks... similar to Father, but now she's hiding under a bridge? What is going on with that girl. Somethings not right, it's clear there's something she's not telling me, I should be angry, she could be some sort of threat. So why am i not? This isn't anger its.. something else. What even is this feeling? I feel like I know her. One things for certain, she needs help. Maybe I should speak to Father about this. He does have a habit of adopting children.' Damian thinks to himself as he removes his vigilante gear, he decides to approach Bruce and bring up his concerns

"Father." Damian says, commanding his attention away from the computer

"Damian. Is something wrong?" Bruce asks

"I'm not sure, it's about my new friend" Damian says

"Ah yes.... y/n correct?" Bruce asks but his voice waivers as he says her name

"Correct, father. I believe y/n may be in trouble of some kind. As you know she joined the school at an odd time, which is weird enough as it is. However, during patrol, I found her under a bridge. She claimed that she couldn't go home but wouldn't say why. And to make matters even more confusing, she didn't seem to know who I was." Damian explains

"What do you mean? Like she didn't know what a vigilante was? It's possible if she's new to Gotham, unlikely but possible." Bruce says

"No, she wasn't suprised, or confused, she acted as if meeting a vigilante were normal, but she didn't know my name, she seemed to know about vigilantes, but didn't know which one I was." He explained while gesturing to the cases of costumes throughout the years. "She also didn't have anything with her. When I found her, she only had her backpack with school supplies and a few clothes. No blankets or food items, nor any personal belongings. It seems like she hasn't been here for very long, but she's been attending school for a few weeks now." Damian says

Bruce pauses for a moment "That's... odd. Even if someone had recently become homeless, they would have more than just school supplies, especially if they've been living outside." Bruce says mostly to himself before turning back to his son "What are you thinking Damian?" Bruce asks

Damian remains silent for a while before responding, "With your permission, Father, I would like to invite her over after school tomorrow. Perhaps we could learn more then. I heard it's supposed to rain tomorrow as well, and I'd feel bad knowing my friend was out there getting sick." Damian states and waits for a response

"I see. Very well then, you may invite her over, I'll inform Alfred so he will make extra for dinner." Bruce says, calling Alfred in. "In the meantime, you need to turn in for the night, I'll speak with Alfred about tomorrow"

"Very well, goodnight father." Damian says, walking past Alfred

Bruce POV:

"Master Bruce? Are you alright?" Alfred asks having heard the conversation

Bruce doesn't speak for a moment, but eventually, he turns to face the loyal butler

"Alfred I... I don't want to get my hopes up. I know that it's probably just a coincidence, but... when you pick the two of them up tomorrow, I want you to call me immediately and let me know if it... if it's possible.. if it could be -"

"I will Master Bruce. I promise that the moment I am able to confirm, I will let you know." Alfred says

"Thank you Alfred." Bruce says, as he unlocks one of the drawers in his desk, and he pulls own a dusty photo and cleans it, the photo being a photo of him, and his long lost daughter smiling eating icecream

"I know it's... highly unlikely, but would you like me to prepare her favorite? Even if it's not her, I know that you enjoy the meal as well, and it's been awhile, it'd be nice to relive the good memories." Alfred suggests

"That... that would be nice Alfred, thank you." Bruce says before looking at the photo again and putting it away

The next day:

Damian was right, it is raining and by the looks of it, it'll be raining all day, the day begins the same as normal with Damian getting prepared for school, and packing a larger umbrella with him before heading down to breakfast where he finds two of his older brothers

Damian POV:

"Grayson, Drake" Damian greets them

"Hey kid, you got everything you need? It's raining cats and dogs out there" Dick says causing Damian to roll his eyes

"I'm well aware Grayson, I already knew this would happen so I prepared accordingly, even grabbing a larger umbrella to fit us" Damian replies

"Us? Who's us? We aren't going out today" Tim asks

"Us, as in me and my friend, I'm bringing her here after school today. I've already informed Father and Alfred. You two better not freak her out." Damian warns

"Woah, you're bringing a friend home? That's new" Dick says

"You have friends? Like. Real friends? From school?" Tim laughs

"Yes I have friends. What's with the laughter. And whats real friends supposed to mean" Damian snaps

"Well, considering your always calling people peasants it's surprising, not to mention it's someone who's not like us." Tim replies as if it's common knowledge

"What is that supposed to mean. Y/n doesn't have to be like us. We're friends, and that's that. Honestly, we're practically siblings. That's what the people at school say." Damian says. "Oh, and for your information, she may be in a tough situation right now. I don't yet know the details, but something is up, so when she gets here, you guys better not say anything suspicious, got it?" Damian basically orders before he walks away to head to school.

"Y/n? Huh..." Dick mutters to himself

"What is it? You know this person?" Tim asks

"No no it's just... I swear I've heard that name before." Dick says almost serious

At school, y/n pov:

'Okay, y/n, there's no need to panic just yet. No one's said anything, so he didn't tell anyone. What do I say if he brings it up? It happened while in the suit, so he probably won't approach it as himself, but what if he does? Or if he asks me about home? What do I do if he asks me about my parents? I need to think of a plan. Dad always has plans, but what do I even do? I can't just go up to the manor and explain who I am. It's been..' y/n pauses to do math but fails 'it's been an unknown amount of years, it's possible more things have changed than what I can tell. It's possible they won't even remember me, or they could think I was some sort of clone like in a Sci fi movie. I don't know anything for certain yet, so I have to play it safe... even if it hurts'

Y/n braces herself, thoughts of things that could go wrong still swirling about in her mind, but she can't think about that now, she has classes to attend.

Damian arrives to class and greets her like normal, she holds back her sigh of relief knowing that it's probably because it was 'Robin' that she talked to last night, she's seen her dad shift between personas before and if he learned from him then he won't mention a thing about what happened.

The two start talking about homework, which y/n suddenly realizes she didn't do, but before she can worry about it, the teacher speaks up

"Good morning class, today's going to be a bit different as we're starting a new project and for this you'll need to work in pairs, so before anything, everyone needs to go around and get into pairs and then when that's done I'll start handing out information on the project and explain what it is."

"Y/n? Would you like to work on this project together?" Damian asks

"Sure, we work together on some stuff already so this should be a peice of cake" y/n replies

"Perfect, we can work on it at my place after school as well, speaking of which, would you like to come over today? It's Friday, and I was thinking we could have a uh... sleepover. There's lots of stuff we could do, and it'll be easier to find time for the project that way and you could stay for the whole weekend" Damian asks, hoping to convince his friend without sounding weird. But he can't stand the idea of her being outside all weekend, especially with Gothams weather.

"Oh! Sure I would love to come over for a sleep over it sounds like a lotta fun!" Y/n replies, trying to hold back her excitement 'oh my god this works out perfectly. Now I can see what's changed, maybe I can talk to dad, I hope he's okay, this'll let me find out if he remembers me or not. I'll finally have Alfred's cooking again!' Y/n thinks to herself

"Good good, I'll have our bulter Pennyworth pick us up straight after school. We have a library in the manor so we don't need to use the schools library, oh and just a warning, my brothers are probably going to be at the manor as well, just ignore them, they're fools." Damian says

'There's more of them?!' Y/n thinks to herself, trying to hide her shock, but Damian notices anyways but he doesn't say anything about it.

"Alright class, now that everyone is partnered up I'll explain the project, this one will take a few weeks so listen up" the teacher says, gathering everyone's attention and explains the project

They spend the rest of class working on the project, writing notes, and during breaks they talk about what they're going to do at the manor, Damian discovers y/n knows even less movies than he does so they decide they could have a movie marathon when they first get there.

Before they know it, school is over and it's time to head out. Just as Damian said, Alfred comes to pick them up right after school, and parks somewhere where the rain isn't as intense.

"Hello Pennyworth, this is Y/n." Damian introduces the two noticing the pale look on Alfred's face just like he had when he first mentioned Y/n

"Hello, thank you for picking us up Alfred!" Y/n says, happy to see Alfred again after all this time, though a bit shocked to see how white his hair has gotten, but otherwise he looks the same. She too sees the pale in his face, but is still too nervous to say anything.

"Of course miss Y/n" He says, while getting into the car "If you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make while we head to the manor, so I'll put the sound dividers up, in the mean time the two of you can pick what music you wish to listen to during the drive" Alfred says

"Alright, here y/n, we can listen to almost any song with this" Damian says

As the two begin to look through the music, Alfred sinks into the sea as he processes what he's seen. Could it really be Y/n?

Alfred pov:

He takes a moment to compose himself, he has a cold sweat, but he calms himself and calls Bruce

The phone feels like it rings forever before Bruce answers

"Hello Alfred, any news?" Bruce asks, for he was waiting for this call ever since Alfred left

"It's her Master Bruce. It has to be. She looks exactly the same as she did before. She sounds the same, too, I froze for a moment, but neither of them addressed it." Alfred says

"Are you sure? Did she say anything?" Bruce asks

"She didn't say much. However, when Damian introduced us, he referred to me as Pennyworth as he always does, yet Y/n referred to me as Alfred, regardless. Her eyes were unmistakable, even if it were someone who looked like her, those eyes, I would never forget them." Alfred says

"I see. Come get me once you arrive at the manor, we need to discuss how were going to go about this, see what she knows and confirm everything for sure." Bruce replies

"Of course Master Bruce, we'll be their shortly" Alfred informs him

The drive passes quickly and they arrive at the manor, quickly getting in as the rain pours harder and harder. Alfred takes their umbrellas and coats

"Alright, I have some business to attend to, but I shall make dinner shortly. Feel free to do whatever you wish in the meantime, but stick together, wouldn't want anyone to get lost." Alfred says side eyeing Y/n

"No need to worry, Pennyworth. I've memorized the layout of the manor. We will be heading to the theater first, you may find us there when dinner is ready." Damian states

"Wow, you weren't kidding, you actually brought a friend," two voices call out, causing Damian to scowl

"Grayson, Drake." Damian turns to the approaching duo."Y/n, these are my older brothers and nuecences. Who have apparently decided to bother us." Damian says

"Awe, don't be like that, Dames. we just wanna meet our baby brothers new... friend, " Dick says, meeting Y/n's gaze "Anyways- the names Dick Grayson, pleasure to meet you" he introduces himself before elbowing the boy next to him to stop his stareing

"Ow- oh uh, I'm Tim Drake. Sorry about Dick, it's not every day we meet a friend of the demons. Are you guys going to be working on something?" Tim asks

"Oh well, technically, we have a school project, but we have plenty of time to work on it, so we were going to have a um, 'movie marathon'" Y/n replies, unsure of how to react

"Yes, we plan to binge some movies that neither of us have seen before, I also wrote a list of other activities we could do, including but not limited to, various board games" Damian replies

"Wow, sounds like fun, maybe we'll pop in for a movie or two later on" Dick teases

"Grayson-" Damian hisses before being interupted

"Ahem, boys play nice, Master Dick and Master Tim, dinner will be ready in a few hours, I have some matters to attend to with Master Bruce, so please behave yourselves." Alfred states

"Alright, alright, we'll let the two of you go have fun, but don't think we won't drop by for some family board games." Dick says

Groaning, Damian leads Y/n towards the theater while Alfred heads to Bruce's office, leaving Dick and Tim alone

"...... So I'm not the only one who noticed she looks exactly like Bruce, right?" Dick asks

"No, no, you were not. How is this even possible she looks like she's Damian's age, so it's not like Bruce had another affair? But she looks so much like him it's kind of creepy, it could be another clone situation." Tim replies

"Makes Damians little comment about them being siblings earlier seem like it may not have been a joke" Dick says

"He didn't say anything about it, though. You'd think he'd have made all sorts of blood siblings comments by now." Tim says

"Yeah..." Dick says absentmindedly

"You good Dick?? You look like your thinking which is never a good thing" Tim jokes

"Ha ha, very funny. I'm fine. I was just. I feel like I've heard the name Y/n before but can't remember where, " Dick explains, and the two of them stand there for a moment before deciding to actually join movie night

With Alfred:

"Master Bruce?" Alfred approaches the office and lets himself in, noticing the papers all over the place, recognizing all of them

"Is it really possible? Even if it is her, how hasn't she grown up? She'd have been older than Dick by now. And if it is her, why didn't she come back? Why did it take until Damian invited her over for her to come here? Are we sure she even remembers us? What if it's some sick joke? What if some villain made a clone of her and sent her here to toy with me? What if -"

Before he could spiral any further, Alfred cuts him off

"Master Bruce. Calm down. I'm aware of how... odd this situation is, and there is much to discuss. However, I feel it would be best for you to speak to her yourself. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all of this. She is her father's daughter, I'm sure she'll explain everything." Alfred says

"And what if she can't? What if it isn't really her and just a huge coincidence? What then? We would be back at Square one not knowing what happened to her or where to find her or-"

"You're doing it again Master Bruce. Please, go talk to her" Alfred says

"Alfred I- I don't know if I can. If I can face her. It's been so long I.." Bruce, finally looking away from his papers to look up at his butler

"It'll be okay. I'll be there with you as well. You... you don't have to see her just yet. You could wait for then to finish with a few of their movies and settle in before approaching. It'll give you some time to brace yourself as well." Alfred suggests

"That.. sounds like a plan Alfred, thank you." Bruce says

"Of course Master Bruce. I'll go ahead and start dinner now, it shouldnt take too long, so I'll fetch you when it's done, and we can go talk to her. And then have dinner afterward," Alfred replies

"Alright Alfred." Bruce says

After some time passes, the kids have watched around two and a half movies, they're in the middle of third when they hear footsteps approaching

Y/n Pov:

Y/n slightly tenses up. She knows those footsteps, even through the sound of the movie, she can hear them. Her father always taught her to notice the little things like that. The boys notice but don't think much of it until

"Ah, there you all are, Alfred told me you guys would be in here," Bruce's voice calls out as he walks over the greet the others, he looks more tense than usual, but he has been for the past few days it's probably case related the boys think

"Hello father, this is my friend y/n" Damian turns to look at Bruce who after making his way over to everyone finally lays his eyes on y/n, and he freezes

Dick and Tim don't say anything, both looking back and forth between Bruce and Y/n wide eyes, there is a long awkward silence before Damian decides to speak up

"Alright, what is with everyone today! I swear you have all been acting strange. It's not even that rare for me to have friends. If I knew you'd all act like this, I would've thought twice. Even you father, I can't believe it -" Damian starts to scold, but Y/n cuts him off

"It's okay, Damian, cut him some slack, it's not every day a dad sees his dead daughter again" Y/n says while putting a hand on Damians shoulder with wet eyes

"It really is you, Y/n..." Bruce says, tears forming in his eyes

"Hey, Dad... I'm back, I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, and I know you probably have a lot of questions, but -" Before y/n can continue, Bruce pulls her into a hug, and the two let out their tears

The others can only stand there and watch as the two cry and apologize to another

"So, I'm all for new family members but what the hell is happening right now can anyone explain" Dick asks

"I agree with Grayson for once, what is going on?" Damian adds

"It's... a long story that we can discuss later. First things first." Bruce stands up but doesn't let go of Y/n almost like he's worried if he let's her go she'll disappear again."Right now, all that matters is that it's time for dinner. Alfred made your favorite Y/n, we weren't sure if it was really you but we wanted to hope it was." Bruce says and they all head to the dining room, still all in shock

They sit at the dinner table and-

"Wow Bruce, another kid? You seriously have a problem." A voice calls out causing the others to look at him and try to signal that it's not the time to say stuff like that

"Hello Jason, it's good to see you too. And for your information, this is Y/n, and technically, she was my first kid, " Bruce says. "Are you here for dinner?"

"Yeah, I wanted some of Alfred's cooking- hold on. What do you mean she's your first kid she's like the same age as the demon spawn??" Jason acts

"Oh that's because I was dead for- ..... uh dad how long was I dead for? I didn't do the math" Y/n says

"It's been... 20 years now" Bruce says hesitantly and watches the realization set in in everyone's eyes

"Oh... wow... that's a lot longer than I thought... but yeah, I've been dead for a while. I only came back to life earlier this month... Also, dad, I know we'll do questions later, but I don't actually know how I came back to life, I was completely alone when I woke up, and I wasn't where I died." Y/n tells him

"I see. That's alright, my dear, we can worry about that later, Damian told me about where you were staying after he found you during patrol, so I'm sure you're hungry" Bruce says

"Father! "Bruce!" The boys yell

"What?" He turns around confused

"Pft wow bruce" Jason laughs only causing Bruce to look even more confused

"Dad I think they're talking about the fact you mentioned patrol" Y/n tells her father while giggling

"Oh, guys, y/n already knows. Well, she knew about me and knowing my daughter she put two and two together when she saw Damian as Robin" Bruce explains

"Yeah, the moment I heard about there being more vigilantes and that apparently dad had more kids, I figured he started a family business, speaking of which dad how many kids did you have after me??? Did you lean into the 'Brucie' persona that much?" Y/n asks, nudging her father

"Okay, in my defense, most of them are adopted. You and Damian are my only biological children, and technically.... these aren't the only ones there's a few more, but they're out right now. Technically Dick and Jason don't live here anymore. They come here for Alfred's cooking most of the time, " Bruce says and almost as if on que y/n's stomach growls, "Speaking of which, it sounds like it's time to eat."

They finally settle at the dinner table, and Alfred brings out the food, y/n practically drools at the smell alone

They eat, and none of them say anything, but they all notice y/n crying while eating the food, and they wonder what she's been through in the month since she woke up before coming here. Bruce and Alfred especially make mental notes to do a health check-up and get her back onto a proper and healthy diet once she's settled back in. Alfred has many mixed feelings seeing y/n eat. She eats much faster than she used to. Jason notices this also and knows what it's like trying to find food on your own as a kid. He not so subtly gives her some of his food.

After dinner and desert (Alfred was so relieved to hear it really was her, he made cookies to celebrate)

Y/n starts to look really tired

"Are you alright sweetheart?" Bruce asks

"I'm okay, dad, just stuffed. It's been a while since I've eaten that much. I'm probably going to have a food coma - that was a joke. I'm not actually going to fall into a coma. " She quickly adds, knowing how much her dad overthinking things

"Well, food coma or not, it's been a long day, I think it's time for you to head to bed." Bruce says, standing up

"Aw, dad already? We haven't even gotten to talk, and I know you have questions, and I do too, and" Y/n starts

"Sweetheart." Bruce says firmly but warm as he crouches down to meet his daughters eyes. "You're right. There are many questions, but those questions can wait. You need your rest. As much as I want to know everything, I want to make sure you're okay first. We can talk in the morning, and the day after, and so on. Your home now." Bruce says

"Yeah... I'm home now." Y/n says, as she starts to cry again and Bruce gently scoops her up in his arms

"It's okay, sweetheart." He says cooing

"I missed you so much, dad." y/n cries

"I missed you too." Bruce says, "Let's get you to bed, I'm sure you've missed your room too. " He starts to walk through the halls while the others are still sitting at the table stunned

"You still have my room?" Y/n asks as Bruce carries her

"What kind of question is that? Of course I still have your room." Bruce replies

"Well... it's been so long, and you probably knew I was dead so I figured-"

"I never accepted you were dead." Bruce cuts her off. "I always hoped I would find you one day. Even if you were a grown adult, I kept your room the same." Bruce says

"Dad..." Y/n says, knowing that this whole time, her father has been looking for a daughter that he would never find "I... I *was* dead... I'm sorry-"

"Don't you dare apologize. Your only a kid it isn't your fault. Whatever happened wasn't your fault. We can talk about it more in the morning. But for now.." Bruce takes out his keys and unlocks the door to Y/n's room and tucks her in. She yawns and Bruce starts to get up but Y/n grabs him

"Dad... could you stay with me until I fall asleep? I know you have work to do and that those guys are probably waiting but-" y/n pauses

"Of course I will. Just rest now my dear." Bruce says and it's not long before y/n is out like a light

Bruce after a few more minutes finally gets up, he plugs in a nightlight and makes his way back to the dining room where he is then greeted by the boys and he sighs

"Boys."

"Bruce" "Father

"Alright. I suppose it's time to explain." Bruce starts as he pulls out a chair "Where do I even begin?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aaaaaaaand another cliffhanger! Sorry not sorry but I've been working on and off on this post for weeks I think. Theres still a good bit of story left (aka the explanations) I don't currently have much planned afterwards but I feel like when I write the next part depending on how I write it this may become a mini series (I say mini because again, I don't have much planned this started out as a random concept in my head) if i do write more after the explanations I'd definitely lean even more into the yandere aspects (I attempted to start planting some seeds of it with the batfam getting more concerned and protective, and the next part will definitely tip them over the edge :) hehe )

I'm sorry if the characters are well, out of character but, *points to the fact I'm new to this fandom and new to writing fanfiction in general*

Also I'm sorry there's no cass, duke, barb, or steph

I don't know much about them yet, I know who they are but not really how they act or solid personality traits so I don't know how to write them yet, but I'll probably allude to them or say that the others explain the situation to them or smth

Thanks for being patient with me for this part lol

#batfam x reader #batman #damian wayne #dick grayson #platonic batfam #tim drake #yandere batfam #batfam #yandere jason todd #yandere damian wayne #bruce wayne #good dad bruce wayne #protect alfred #batfam x batsis #Batman Dead Daughter Au #is it even an au??? its an original story not an alternate one but oh well it sounds better that way lol

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peachhcs · 3 days ago

Note

Samy does the trend where she wipes off the kisses that will gives her

i love that trend it's always so funny. samy's never wiped will's kisses off before so when she does it he's very shocked and immediately thinks he did something wrong. surprisingly someone else JUST about this so i’ll post it now :)) i wrote up so many of my requests last night to clear out my inbox but this was super fun!!

au masterlist

samy set her phone up while will was in the bathroom finishing getting ready. she saw the trend after scrolling through her for you page all morning and of course, she had to join in. pranking will was literally her favorite activity and it was payback for him spitting all of his water into her face the last time they made a tiktok together.

she pretended to be doing something on her computer while she hid her phone behind one of the potted plants on the counter. the bathroom door opened a few minutes later and samy could hear will's footsteps.

"hey, i'm gonna leave now. are you gonna be all good by yourself for a few hours?" will asked as he came up to her chair.

samy nodded, "yeah i'm gonna be fine."

"i'll be back at like 3 probably," the blonde leaned down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. samy immediately wiped her cheek when he removed his lips and will quickly made a face.

"what?" he grew confused.

"what?" samy played dumb.

"you just wiped off my kiss," will pointed out.

"i didn't," samy gaslit him and the blonde swore she did.

he decided to kiss her again this time on the lips. samy copied her exact movements from before and will definitely wasn't seeing things this time.

"does my breath smell bad or something? i brushed my teeth," the hockey player didn't know why she was wiping his kisses off.

"it smells fine," samy hummed and will stood above her staring at her confused.

he began wracking his brain of something he might've done wrong in the last few days, but when he couldn't think of anything, will was even more confused than before.

"are you mad at me or something?" he asked.

"no, why would i be mad at you?" samy finally caught his gaze and she had to stop herself from laughing when she saw her boyfriend's pout.

"because you're wiping off my kisses. did i do something wrong?" it was so hard keeping the bit up when he looked at her like that.

"no, you didn't. i'm just doing school work," samy said and that didn't answer any of will's confusion.

"you've never wiped my kisses off before?" the blonde pouted even more and samy couldn't keep it up. she bursted out laughing and poor will just stood beside her in confusion.

"it's a prank, baby, i promise. i love you," samy grabbed her phone and showed him the camera that was recording. the hockey player quickly rolled his eyes and gently shoved her.

"you're so mean to me," he mumbled as he went to grab a water from the fridge.

"i'm sorry, baby. it's payback from you spitting water in my face a few weeks ago," samy half joked.

"whatever. it was funny. that wasn't funny. i thought i did something wrong," will complained and samy got up to bring him into a hug.

"i'm sorry, you didn't. i love you. have fun," she kissed his lips to make up for the prank. will kissed her back, glad she didn't wipe her lips off after this time.

"i love you too. i'll see you later," he pecked her cheek and then finally left to go hang out with some of his teammates. he just knew he was about to get roasted in those comments whenever samy posted the video.

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aggieharkness · 3 days ago

Note

would you do a story with lilia calderu maybe surrounding substance misuse? like maybe hiding it from her? you can decide the details of it all

Survivor

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: It is said that time heals but you hadn't believed it at all, the dark thoughts crushing you once again, drawing you into a past that you wanted to run away from. You had felt so alone. But she took your hands and steadied you, guided you to the light. Perhaps time didn't heal, but you were sure Lilia did

Warnings: substance misuse, mention of drugs, mention of alcohol, alcoholism, past abuse, past child abuse, bullying, implied suicide. I'm sorry if I've forgotten any warnings.

Authors note: I'm sorry it took me a bit longer to post, but I hope that this story is what you were expecting and that if it hits close to home that it helps you heal and move forward. Some of the experiences are real and are my own, so please, be kind. If there is anything at all that you don't like, tell me and I'll change it, or if you want something else, I'm here. Thanks for the request, btw.

Special thanks to @renafisher27 for checking part of it. Love you girl!

Survivor

You were two hours late. Lilia glanced at the clock on the wall, the thin black hands staring back at her, telling her that you were not going to come. The table had been set, a beautiful rose in the middle of it surrounded by candles, a delicious meal in the oven that had turned cold a while ago, the smell lingering in the air. You had promised you would come to her tonight, that you would spend a quiet evening together, you had sworn you would be there, but alas, the house was empty except for the silence that dressed Lilia’s sorrow. She had thought you cared about her, she had let herself believe you cared about her, but it was obvious that you did not, or at least not enough to think that this entire date might be important to her, that you were important to her. She felt anger rising on her chest as the clock struck nine, and in a gust of fury she stood from her chair and stomped towards the front door, grabbing her shawl and purse. She didn’t bother to blow the candles, her magic sparkled incessantly in between her fingers making the lights flicker and the flames vanish into nothing, thin threads of smoke rising up in the air in rivulets.

You lived next door, literally a door down from her, which made things even worse as Lilia, in a beautiful dark grey dress with spaghetti straps, rushed down the street, her gown brushing the dirty pavement as her heels made loud footsteps until she stood before your building. The lock was broken, and no one had bothered to fix it yet, so she pushed the gates, the metal of the door banging and bouncing against the wall, the loud sound echoing out into the street, but she didn’t care, she had a mission, and she was going to tell you exactly what she thought of your behaviour. But upon reaching your door she stopped. What if you were not there? What if you had been in a terrible accident and had hurt yourself? What if you had… died? She began to spiral into this sea of what ifs, images clouding her mind as her feet paced from one side of the empty hallway to the other. If it had indeed happened, why hadn’t she seen it, she should have seen your demise, no one she had ever cared about hadn’t passed without her not having seen it first. Maybe you had not gone to her house because you were working late, had she even asked you at what time did you get out today?

Noises coming from the other side of the door woke her up from her spiralling, the sounds calming her racing heart. You were home. Wait, you were home! She felt the anger spiking again, only muffled by the fact that you were alive, but that did not stop her from using her spare key and barging in. Now this was something she had not expected. All the lights were off, not even the streetlights could be seen coming from the windows, it was as if she had walked into a deep dark tunnel, and the simple feeling that she got as she stepped inside made her shiver on the spot. Something was wrong, she could sense it, but she could not figure out what it was as she traded careful over the carpet, the door left ajar so a little bit of light could come in. The entire apartment was quiet, the noises she had just heard faint memories by then, her breathing and her own blood pumping through her veins, the only sounds that her ears could hear. Upon reaching the intersection between the kitchen and the living room her foot kicked something. It was cold to the touch of her bare toes, and it seemed to be cylindrical, her eyes fighting to get a better view of the object as she pushed it from under her dress. How odd, what was an empty bottle of vodka doing on the floor?

She had never seen you drink, not even when you two went out on dates, no, you always choose water or juices, maybe a hot chocolate if it was a breakfast date, but never ever alcohol. Had you… had you brought someone home? She could not bare the thought of you doing something like that to her, her heart breaking slightly at the possibility that you had cheated on her. There she had been, at home, waiting like a fool for you to rush into her arms only to find out that there might be someone other than her holding you in bed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Someone loving you like she did. She was letting her mind wander once again, and she could not afford it, she had to find you, so she forced herself to breath deeply, letting those thoughts be pushed to the back of her mind, after all it was only an empty bottle on the floor, it could mean literally anything. She lifted herself off the floor, the bottle in her hand as she stepped into the living room. It was even darker, the windows blocked by something, but how was she supposed to make her way towards them if she could not see what was two inches in front of her? This is how people die in horror movies, she thought.

Each step took her closer to a big object she could sort of make out the shape off, crashing into it after a moment, nearly bending over what she realised was the couch. Okay, she had to see, a freaking vampire could come out of any corner at any minute, and she’d be dammed if she was going to fight one in the dark. It had happened before, and it had not been a pleasant experience. With a snap of her fingers a tiny little bulb of yellow light brightened the room, a sigh of relief puffing out as she was finally able to see, but what her eyes came across with as she took in the room was far from what she had expected. The couch had clothes spread all over it, whether they were clean or not she could not tell, but there was certainly this thick odour that resembled that of a closed house, as if you had not bothered to ventilate in weeks. You had not spent that much time down at her place, this wasn’t something related to you sleeping with her, it ran deeper, she could feel it in her bones. Rounding the couch, she saw containers of different takeaways laying over the coffee table, rotting food inside, though the smell had not yet spread throughout the room.

Alarms had begun to go in her head the instant she had stepped into your house, but now she could have almost lit up like a Christmas trees had she had warning lights. This, whatever it was, was very very wrong, more bottles laying in between blankets and under the couch and tables, her eyes finally seeing that there were cardboards against the windows so no light would come in. Why would you do that? You loved the sunlight, you adored walking with her in the park, down in the woods, any place Lilia desired, she could not comprehend why you would run away from it now. A sound came from the other side of the apartment, startling her to the point that she almost tripped with a bag that you had left in the middle of the floor, making her turn her body towards the source of the noise and begin walking in slow steps. It had to be you, unless it was a thief, or worse, a murderer; Divine Mother, she needed to stop doing this to herself, she was going to give herself a heart attack one of these days. Reaching the foyer again the light from her fingers showed that your bedroom was right across the hall, the door ajar, a gentle blue light coming from under it as the noises got louder until suddenly, she heard your voice. It was quiet, and she could not understand very well what you were saying, but she picked up on the hurt tone that tainted them. Carefully she pushed it open until she could finally see you.

This room was the worst out of the entire house. There weren’t only bottles spread all throughout the floor, desk and nightstands, but packets of beers and premade cocktails laying over the ruined carpet, clothes and trash everywhere. Lilia flicked the switch so the lamp above your head would light up the room instead of the screen of your phone, but nothing happened, the motion making you turn your head over your shoulders from the spot you had on your bed, your back to the door. What was Lilia doing there? Was the alcohol making you see things? It wasn’t supposed to do that, the drugs were, but you hadn’t taken any, yet. Shit, you had forgotten about the date. Looking up at her you were waiting for the moment she would start screaming at you, telling you how utterly disgusting you looked and how disappointed she was, but it never came, she could only stare dumbfounded at you, your eyes raking over her beautiful dress and tidy curls to the bottle of vodka that she had in her hand. Lilia could not even begin to process the way you were looking at her, like a child who was waiting to be scolded, to be yelled at, your make up smeared all over your cheeks and chin, splatters of alcohol staining your clothes, a notebook in front of your crossed legs, a bag with a white powder resting over your left knee. Oh, Divine Mother, you were… no… you couldn’t be. Your hoarse voice and slurred words reached her ears, but it was the terrified tone what hit her heart as if it had just been run over by a train.

-Get out! You are not supposed to be here!

-Y/N

-NO! I CAN’T DO THIS WITH YOU HERE!

-Do what? – you had never raised your voice at her, in nearly a year of being with her the most she had heard you scream was one time when you had almost burnt yourself as you were pulling out a roasted chicken from the oven. That had been a funny little moment, but this was far from that, this was bad, really bad, and Lilia found herself dropping the empty bottle on a chair and walking to your side as slowly as possible, kneeling gently in front of you. Her hands itched to take yours but you were holding onto your hoody with such strength that it was making your knuckles white. - Y/N, please, tell me what’s wrong.

-I can’t. Please, Lilia, please, go away. This is not… I’m not… You are not supposed to see this. GO HOME!

-Y/N.

Suddenly your phone rang, the ringtone loud and shrilling in your ears, the name of some woman appearing on the screen. You growled at the sight, picking it up and motioning your arm as to throw it against the wall, but Lilia’s warm hand stopped you, wrapping around your wrist and pulling it down gently, your fingers letting go of the phone until it fell with a thud over the mattress. You stared up at her, the tears that had stopped falling about ten minutes ago returning in earnest, those big doe eyes of hers watching you as if you were something broken. You could not fight it, you were. The horrid sound carried on until you slid your finger over the green sign to answer it, the sound of a woman’s voice filling up the space after you tapped on the speaker symbol. If this is how things were going to come out, if Lilia was going to learn the truth tonight, might as well do it right.

-Oh, so now you answer the phone!

-Please, stop calling mom. I can’t do this, not again.

-Is this how you speak to me?! You owe me your life you ungrateful bitch! I put a stop to my own to raise you, you owe me Y/N.

-I don’t owe you shit! – you turned your body away from Lilia’s touch, unsure of how you were going to react all throughout the conversation; you didn’t want her to get hurt, she did not deserve to end up in harm’s way because of your messy life. - Every time you call is to ask for money or to insult me and degrade me and I can’t do it! I was clean mom, for a fucking year; I was doing great and then you had to come back! WHY?!

-DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE SCREAM AT ME! IT’S YOUR OWN FAULT THAT YOU’VE FALLEN BACK INTO DRINKING. YOU ARE WEAK, USELESS!

-STOP! FOR FUCK’S SAKES STOP! YOU LEFT ME ALONE FOR A YEAR, ONE WHOLE ASS YEAR AND I GOT CLEAN! WHY HAVE YOU COME BACK?!

-IF THIS IS HOW YOU ARE GOING TO BEHAVE, IF THIS IS HOW UNGRATEFUL YOU STILL ARE, MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED WHEN YOU HAD THAT OVERDOSE TWO YEARS AGO!

The silence that followed was fucking deafening, your limbs feeling like lead as her words stabbed you deep, the phone slipping from your fingers until it landed on the bed, so very deep that you grabbed the closest bottle, whiskey Lilia saw, and brought it to your lips, but she was faster and pushed it away, fighting with you to take it from your hands until it slipped onto the floor, crashing against the wood, the amber liquid spreading and staining the edge of the carpet. The only thing you wanted to do was crawl into a ball and wait until death claimed you. You hurt too much; you felt exactly like your mother had said, weak, useless, a fucking failure and Lilia was now there to see the real you when you had fought so hard to hide all this from her. She didn’t deserve someone as broken as you, you thought, the phone forgotten at the foot of the bed as your mother kept talking, berating you. She had never stopped, since the moment you had been placed in her arms you had been a mistake, an accident that should have never happened, and both her and life had never stopped reminding you. The only person that had cared for you simply because had been Lilia, and now she would run away like all of them had done before her. You could not do this, you just couldn’t, your face hidden into your pillow as you cried, hands over your ears to drown out your mother’s voice.

-Listen here lady, - Lilia stepped in then, picking up your phone and bring it to close to her lips, her voice clear and hard, so cold that if you had been at the receiving end, you would have felt a shiver running down your spine. This was clearly a recuring event in your life, one you had never mentioned, but that wasn’t important right now, the main thing was to get your mother to shut up. - I don’t know who you are, but I can tell you one thing. Y/N is not weak, or useless or any of the many things you’ve called her, she’s the most wonderful woman I have ever met.

-Who the hell are you? Y/N, are you still there? Who the fuck am I talking to?!

-I’m her girlfriend and you need to…

-Oh, so you are trying to ruin someone else now? Great job Y/n, fucking fantastic. Are you going to call me again crying “mommy mommy, they’ve stolen from me, they’ve broken my heart” like the fucking pathetic idiot you are?!

-I will not tolerate this talk from you lady! I don’t know who the hell you think you might be, but you have no right to speak to Y/N this way. You are supposed to be the most important person in her life, the one she can trust, and you are failing at that. Maybe Y/N is not be faulted for what you have driven her to do! She’s not weak, she’s not a failure, she has survived you, and that says plenty. If you had acted as a mother when you were supposed to, she would not be like this now!

-Who the fuck…

-I’M TALKING AND YOU WILL WAIT UNTIL I’M DONE! – the other woman fell silent, stunned at the other end of the phone, probably unused to someone actually having the balls to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Lilia was on a roll, and she keep talking without even noticing. - You have no right to say to her that she should have died when she was at rock bottom, and she needed you! So how about you say what you phoned her for, and we can all end this before we say things that we will fully regret.

-Well… Now she has a defender. This is new. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen lady, she’s going to go back to doing drugs and to drinking when life doesn’t handle her things on a silver plate and drag you down with her. She’s always been a spoiled brat, and she will remain being so.

-THAT’S NOT TRUE! – you jolted from your spot to kneel in front of Lilia, snatching the phone from her hand, your face red from crying, your voice so loud that you were sure your neighbours would come down in a minute and reprimand you. -YOU NEVER GAVE ME SHIT; I HAD TO GO TO THE NEIGHBOURS HOUSE TO GET FOOD AND RIDES TO SCHOOL BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T THERE! WHEN I BROKE MY ARM YOU MADE ME GO TO SCHOOL WITH A FUCKING STICK TIED TO A BEDSHEET BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT TO TAKE ME TO THE DOCTORS!

-HERE WE GO AGAIN WITH THE LIES! THAT’S WHAT YOUR TEACHERS ALWAYS USE TO SAY; YOU LIED TO GET OUT OF DETENTION BECAUSE YOU COULD NOT FACE THE CONSEQUENCES TO YOUR ACTIONS!

-I WAS CHASED OUT OF THE FUCKING DINNING HALL AND THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO BE FUCKING KILLED!! IT WASN’T MY FAULT! NONE OF THIS WAS! WHY WON’T ANYONE LISTEN TO ME?!

-LIARS DON’T DESERVE TO BE HEARD! YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF!

The scream that tore out of your throat was so raw, so full of pain that it felt as if you were tearing it out of your chest, maybe you were ripping it out of your broken and smashed heart. This was why you had poured everything that had ever happened to you into drugs and alcohol, they made you numb, they made you forget, they killed you at a faster rate, but tonight the four bottles of vodka, tequila and whiskey didn’t seem to have the desired effect, quite the opposite, everything felt worse, a thousand times worse. Your mother’s words had cut deep, so fucking deep that you were nearly bleeding into your mattress, the phone forgotten somewhere over the carpet as you had throwing it against the floor, your hands grabbing your hair and pulling hard as if that could make the pain lessen. You could not hear anything but you own sobs, breaths hurried to the point that you were sure you would hyperventilate in a moment if you didn’t control it soon, but how could you with how the world was crushing down around you once more.

You had spent your entire life telling everyone around you the things that people had done to you, of the abuse, of the lies, the deceit, the injuries, everything, and they all had had one thing in common; oh, your poor mother must have felt awful, they said. What a fucking bunch of assholes you had thought. No one had ever asked how YOU were doing, if you were over it, if it still hurt, if it caused you problems. No on cared about you and you just couldn’t handle it, not anymore. You had been labelled a liar for as long as you could remember, everything was your fault; when that boy had smashed a rock on your head, it had been your fault, when you had been pushed down the stairs, you had been at fault as well, when your teachers had pulled you out of your classroom and had yelled at you that you were crazy and that you would become a criminal by the time you were eighteen, blowing up cars and such, you had cried and you yourself had thought, this is my fault as well. Lilia could not bring herself to say anything, she turned your phone to see that the screen was cracked, but the call had ended, thankfully, and she simply picked it up and placed it on the nightstand before turning her attention to you, her shawl and purse resting on the carpet.

She moved her hands slowly up to your arms, but the instant her fingers rested on your wrists you moved away quickly, crawling hurriedly to the edge of the bed until your hands were on the floor, rushing the nearest corner. She knew you were scared, that you were in pain, she wasn’t a stranger to all those feelings, but she had never known that you were experiencing them so strongly. She sighed and stood, rounding the bed and making her way to you, sitting in front of your shaky form. All those bottles she had seen couldn’t be from today, you had gone back to drinking, but why? Was it all your mother, was it something else, a mix of circumstances that you could not have prevented? There were so many questions that she needed answers to, but you were in no position to give them to her, and her priority wasn’t getting them, but making sure that you were alright. She sat a bit closer, her knees nearly touching yours, but she remained at a certain distance to give you space should you need it.

-May I… May I touch you Y/N? – you lifted your head from where it was hidden in your arms, tears running down your cheeks, face puffed and red. Why was she still here? Did she like seeing you run down? Others had thrived in seeing you crying, destroyed on the floor, they had loved to see you as a shell of yourself. Your eyes locked with hers, but you didn’t see any of that happiness and power the others had had, she was looking at you with worry, with a caring aura about her that took you by surprise.

-Why are you here?

-I was worried about you. Actually, I was angry thinking you had forgotten about me and our date.

-I… I did. I’m sorry, I messed everything up. – you crawled back into yourself a little, breaking her gaze and looking down at the floor, ashamed.

-You did not.

-You don’t have to lie to me, I know I did. You probably had something awesome prepared, and I did not go because I was too busy fucking up my life again.

-If you say that you’ve been clean for a year, why did you go back to all this?

-Because she called. – she barely heard the words you had whispered, your head practically tucked into your chest and arms. With careful movements Lilia tried her luck once more, placing her hand on your wrist, smiling a bit as you didn’t pull away, the warmth of her skin over yours a contrast with the coolness of your room. Why was she being so nice to you? Did she pity you? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had taken advantage of you because they made you believe they cared only to pity you and your disaster of a life. Your body did not fight her when tenderly she took you in her arms, sitting with her back against the wall and you on her lap. She smelled so nice, so much like home, and you held onto the straps of her dress as if they were lifelines, saving you from a deep abyss that was calling out your name.

-When was the first time she called?

-A couple of weeks ago.

-Do you want to tell me why?

-Money. She only ever calls for money. – Lilia cradled your head closer to her chest, and though she knew it wouldn’t take away your pain perhaps she could dimmish it as best she could, but to get to that point she knew you both had to cross a very dangerous bridge. – She’s always been like that, taking it all as soon as I started working when I was sixteen just so she could spoil her stupid boyfriends. I couldn’t even pay for college. I had been saving for like three years to go to community college and she took it. She took it all, didn’t even leave a cent because her fucking boyfriend wanted to go to Hawaii!

-But this time you didn’t give in and she’s mad, right?

-I didn’t give in to her but… I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

-Darling, I know it hurts; I know you feel ashamed, but things won’t get better unless you share this with me. You know I love you and I won’t ever judge you for what you might have done, for how you learnt to cope with it all. – tears were still running down your cheeks, but she did not care, she tilted your head until your puffy red eyes were staring back at her brown deep ones, her voice quiet and loving as she spoke to you. - Talk to me Y/N.

-You will think me a stupid kid, like the rest of them. You will side with my mum and when I’m done you will say that I overreacted and that I let myself fall into this because I didn’t grow up. I don’t want to see that from you Lilia. – you had begun to slip from her arms to try and gain as much distance from her as possible knowing that your heart couldn’t take it if she dumped you. She had meant so much to you, she still did, and you honestly thought that she would always be the most important person that had ever entered your life, but her touch was hard and yet tender, and she didn’t let you move more than just a few inches from her grasp.

-Hey, have I ever left you alone when you were down, when you were having a bad day at work or when you were just simply feeling bad about yourself?

-No.

-Then what makes you think that I will now? I’m not like other people, I know how it feels to be abandoned, to not know what to do with yourself when the pain is all consuming. I’m not going anywhere.

-I don’t think I can do this Lilia. I don’t have the strength.

-Then let me be strong for you. You need to let it out before you can begin to heal, as painful as it may be.

There was truth is every word she spoke, in the way her eyes glinted under the light that was coming from her fingers, the yellow glow reflecting on her peppery curls and olive kissed skin as she caressed your cheeks. You had been to therapist after therapist since the age of eight, and yeah, they had heard you but they had never listened, they had never ever done shit for you, and yet, looking up at Lilia in the darkness of your room, protected and safe in her embrace, somehow you felt as if she could solve all the problems in the universe, as if she was your before and after that could heal and pull you out of this horrible mess you had found yourself in. Your mouth opened several times, but nothing came out. You just didn’t know where to start, how much to tell her, what might be too much, it had been years since you had shared your darkest thoughts with anyone. Looking down at your hands as they rubbed the skin of Lilia’s fingers you saw the ring you had gifted her on her birthday. It wasn’t expensive or exclusive, it was a very simple thing you had found in a small shop with a beautiful deep yellow stone mounted on a thin golden ring. She had never taken it off in all that time, not even once, and as your fingertips brushed over it you made the jump, praying that this was the right thing to do.

-It all stared when I was really young. She wasn’t a good mother; she would always leave me to fend for myself while she went out or to work. The first time was when I was two and it’s a miracle I didn’t die, but I suppose I was a smart kid, and the neighbours knew just how shitty she was and how she behaved, so they helped out. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t have what others did, why my mum didn’t seem to love me. I never had Christmas gifts or birthdays; the party you threw for me was the first one I had ever had. – Lilia could not believe what she was hearing. You had never celebrated your birthday, you had never ever been celebrated in your entire life? She could understand that for herself, she was well past four hundred years old, but you? You were barely in your twenties, you were a baby compared to her, you deserved to have someone show you just how much you meant to them, to party and be happy with useless gifts being given to you and cake and kisses, but she had been the only one to show you? It made sense now why you had looked at her unsure of what you were supposed to do. – I was a confused child that didn’t understand why I was always pushed to a corner and forgotten there. Things only got worse when I began school. They hated me, they didn’t even bother to get to know me before they started insulting me and bullying me. I remember one time, when I was four, how I was sitting on the playground and a boy crossed the whole thing, and it was like maybe fifteen or twenty feet, until he stood before me with a big piece of concrete in his hand and smashed it on the side of my head. I remember seeing partially black with my left eye and just how like in movies, when you see this circle that starts getting smaller and smaller until everything’s black? – you felt Lilia nod her head from where it rested on top of your messy hair, her hands rubbing soothing patterns on your legs. - I got knocked out and I know I was bleeding like a pig, but the school told my mother that it had been just a scratch, and that blood was always just so scandalous, but she didn’t even care. I could have bleed to my death, and she would have been perfectly alright with it. I was always being thrown out of class and the school was always calling her for every little fuck up I did. She was always so pissed when I got home, sometimes she would leave me in the laundry room, locked away so she wouldn’t have to hear me crying when I came home with bruises, trying to find comfort in her. Things never got easier or better.

-You… you said something before, that you were chased? Was that in that same school?

-Yeah, she wouldn’t even consider sending me to a different district, it would have been to much of a hassle for her. It happened… I… This one’s hard, Lilia.

-Take your time, darling, I promise I’m not going anywhere. – you took a deep breath, sensing how the terror you had felt back then was returning. Every time you thought about it, whenever you let the memories plague you and overrun your mind you felt the fear taking over, your grasp on Lilia’s hand harder, nails nearly digging onto her skin.

-I was like nine, I think. I had just finished lunch, and I was leaving my tray when I saw three boys from my classroom following me outside. I didn’t think anything at first but when I turned left, and they followed I began to get nervous. It wouldn’t have been the first time they had followed me until I started running, leaving me to look like an idiot around the playground but… this time they started running as well. My legs burnt and my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to explode but I couldn’t stop running, I felt it in my bones that I was going to get hurt, if not killed, if I stopped. I was beyond terrified, running all over school grounds screaming for help, but no one came. They never did. It wasn’t until the bell rang and they rushed to get to class that I could finally stop, kneeling on the hard ground, crying in terror. I truly believed I would go home in a black bag that day, and the worst thing was that I knew my mother would never shed a tear. When I got to class, shaking like a leaf I was reprimanded by the teacher for being late, and when I tried to explain what had happened, she yelled at me for talking back and threw me out. If the teacher didn’t believe me, how was I supposed to tell my mother? But I did anyway, and she laughed. I thought I was going to fucking die and she laughed.

-Oh, Y/N.

-Don’t pity me, please. – you hid your face in her chest, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, you just knew she was looking at you as if you were a broken thing, and that coming from her would kill you. Your tears soaked the neckline of her dress, the hand that was still holding onto her gown pulling her closer, making yourself as small as you could in her arms, knees pressed against your chest. - I can’t take it, it’s been two decades, and I still can’t take it, I can’t move on.

-I know, darling, I know. It’s hard when you’ve been on your own for so long.

-I nearly killed myself. I was so ashamed when I failed, thinking that perhaps I deserved all the horrible things that were happening. Everyone just kept telling me that it was my fault, on a loop, over and over and over, and in the end, I believed it. But I was a coward, I couldn’t end it all, I couldn’t go through with it and the only way I found that I could numb the pain was with drugs and alcohol.

-When was the first time you did it?

-The drugs or the alcohol?

-Either of them? Both?

-I had weed first. It was harmless, I felt good but then things would crush around me when I got down, and I hated the feeling, so I started drinking. It was easier, cheaper as well, and I could do it at home, in school, it didn’t matter, I would not remember what had happened and that made feel as if my life was normal, as if there was no abuse, no pain, no broken bones or screams ringing in my ears. I was sixteen when I was able to buy with a fake ID as much bottles as I wanted, and it was also the first time I got so drunk that I passed out on the street until the next morning, when the police took me home. My mother did the performance of her life showing herself as a worried perfect mother, but as soon as the door closed, she beat the shit out of me. I had spent her money, that’s all she fucking said.

-You could have died Y/N.

-Don’t you think I knew? Sometimes I think that I was trying to kill myself this way, so I wouldn’t have to face the shame of actually having to shoot myself or jump out of a window. It was stupid, but I couldn’t stop. Drinks helped move everything along, until they felt passive, as if they weren’t cutting for me anymore so I started with the drugs. Whatever I could do, cocaine, heroin, weed again. I took things that I didn’t even knew the name of, getting so high that the world seemed bearable again, like a walk in the park, but my grades were slipping, and the teachers were beyond cruel, making sure I knew I was failure. So, I tried to get clean when I was eighteen, started saving for college and all that, but the relapses just kept happening, over and over and then mum threw me out. I didn’t have a penny to my name, I almost lost my job, all I had was the drinks and the drugs, so I gave up. I went down the rabbit hole and I couldn’t get out; I didn’t want to get out. She would show up all the fucking time though, it didn’t matter if I changed my number or if I moved apartments, she would call me and find me and every little thing I had improved on she would just destroy it. When I set foot in your shop, I was looking for a reason to overdose again, I was hoping you would say something that would make think that I was done, but you didn’t.

-I could see your pain, I could see that you were lost, I wanted to help you. I wanted to guide you in the right direction, and so did the cards. I could see your kind soul, no matter what you have done.

-You say that now, but I have done things that you wouldn’t like, at all. I tried to steal phones, I tried to steal money, I tried to hurt people to make them feel the same pain they were inflicting on me.

-Didn’t you notice the key word, dear?

-Key word? – had you ever got to tell anyone so much about yourself? You couldn’t recall when it had been the last time someone had actually actively listened to your every word without judging, without telling you that you had been weak. You were unused to this. Lilia was still cradling you in her arms, only releasing you when you turned around to face her, silent tears still falling down your cheeks, but her eyes didn’t look at you with the pity you had expected, there was only love and comfort in those deep chocolate windows from which you could see her soul, her thoughts almost.

-Tried, which means that you never truly did all those things. You felt like you needed to, but something stopped you. What?

-If I did it, I would have been blamed, found out because it did not matter what was going on, I was always the first one to be blamed for everything. It would not hurt them, it would be slightly inconveniences that they would move on from while I would still be there, getting high to deal with their abuse. I was already suffering, why add more?

-That says something about you.

-That I’m dumb?

-That you are still kind. You saw that that it would only hurt yourself and instead of doing something worse you took a step back to protect yourself, to not add more pain to your life. You still cared enough to not let them turn you into something that you are not.

-But what am I? Who am I? – there was this pressure on your chest, this heaviness in the words you were both speaking that made a lump form on your throat, a brand-new batch of tears clouding your vision, the hot crystal drops burning your skin as they fell, but they didn’t get past your nose before Lilia’s thumbs were wiping them.

-You are Y/N, a kind, gentle woman that loves to sneak into my kitchen and take my cookies when they’ve come out right out of the oven, who loves to walk with me down at the park, who kisses me when my visions get really bad and cuddles me when I’m feeling down. You are the most remarkable person I have ever met, and nothing that those people have ever said it’s true, not a single word.

-How do you know?

-Because in all this time that you’ve been with me, you were clean.

She had looked at you that night as if she had held every answer to questions you hadn’t even thought about, things that would crush you under their truth and you hadn’t been able to move past what she had said to you. When you had entered her shop you had wanted to die more than anything in the world, your life was going nowhere and you had no reason why you should get clean, but she had changed it all when she had taken your hands and sat you down at her little table. Lilia had taken your broken pieces and had started glueing them together, with gold showing from your cracks because you past didn’t define you, but it helped you become the person you were supposed to be. It had shaped you; it had pushed you to the ground and had placed a foot on your throat until the right person had come into your life, someone who with her tender hands had steadied you, had shown you the way and had pulled out from the dark tunnel you had been thrown in. Falling in love with her had been so easy, so right and comfortable and it had happened without either of you noticing. You couldn’t even remember when something that had been nothing had become something until it meant everything.

She had become your world, and this witch that sometimes had this gaps and visions, that loved to have a midnight snack while watching reruns of Murder She Wrote and who held your hand whenever she could, deserved more than the you that had been back then. The first night you had met her you had stayed away from your apartment, sleeping on her couch, wondering the next morning when it had been the last time you had woken up remembering what had happened the night before, thinking that watching her smile as she busied herself with some tea and toasts, that kind smile gracing her lips whenever she looked at you over her shoulder, would be a lovely sight to wake up to. When you had returned home, she had plagued your mind, her words echoing in your brain, but you hadn’t had the strength to let go of all the things you had become so accustomed to. The alcohol remined in your cupboard for three days, and the bags of heroin and cocaine in your nightstand for a week before you built the courage to start afresh. Lilia deserved a person who could enjoy life beside her, who would remember her the next day, who would not go missing for days to get drunk and high under a bridge or in the middle of a park, and it was clear that she wanted that person to be you. It was harder than ever before, the temptation to fall back into it all came from every corner, but you would not give in, you had made up your mind about it, and you would never let Lilia know that you had this problem, you couldn’t risk losing her if she found out about it all. And yet here you two were, back at the beginning and at the same time feeling like you had come so far.

-But I lied to you. I kept all this hidden away and now it has exploded in my face. I’m weak Lilia.

-No, you are not. – her hands took hold of your head gently, forcing you to look at her square in the face, determination written all over her lovely features. – You are the strongest person I’ve ever known, you are a fighter, a survivor. The things you have gone through I cannot imagine them, but the fact that you are still here speaks volumes. I won’t lie to you, knowing that you’ve kept this from me hurts, it makes me think that you didn’t trust me enough, but I understand now why you felt like you couldn’t tell me. You’ve been deceived far too many times, but I promise you, love, never again. You and I will get through this, together.

-I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.

-Don’t apologise, there’s no need. You’ve been apologising for existing your entire life, and it is about time that the world apologised to you. I’m sorry Y/N, for not seeing that your pain was far greater than what I thought. I’m sorry that you didn’t have someone to lean on, to cry to, to find comfort in. I’m sorry that all those adults that were supposed to protect you, failed you and drove you to the edge.

-But you didn’t do it, why are you sorry?

-Because you need to hear it. You need to know that it was never you, it was everybody else. You were a kid, and they didn’t let you be one, and then you were a teenager, and you weren’t allowed that either, but now you are an adult, and you are not alone. You can be whoever you want, and I will be here until the very end.

-I want to be who you deserve. I want to go out on dates with you, I want to watch films and make you laugh and not worry about my mother or anybody else except for you. I want to go out and look at the sky and remember it, I want to feel love and hurt and pain and happiness and not numb it all, because that’s life and I want to experience it to the best of my abilities. I want to recover, Lilia.

-Then we will start by blocking your mother’s number and deleting it. – the phone was perhaps a foot from you, but you could not bring yourself to reach for it, the first doubts already filling your head, but Lilia was there, and she bent her body over the floor to grab it, moving you along with her, unblocking it and tapping on the three dots that showed up on the right, a popup showing the dreading words “Block” and a bin saying “Delete”. Your arms felt like lead as you tried to lift them. You had done this more than twenty times before, why couldn’t you now?! It was frustrating to feel like this. Lilia could see the fight happening through your eyes, only a few silent tears still falling down your cheeks every once in a while, and since you seemed unable to take the step, she made the decision for you, grabbing you hand and placing your index finger hovering over the bright screen, her touch leaving you until it was your own hand alone a few inches from your future. – I can’t do it for you, Y/N, better yet, I won’t. If you really want to recover you must make these decisions of your own free will. And sometimes we need to cut ties so we can cross the bridge.

So you could cross the bridge. Yeah, you had been swaying over a broken-down bridge all your life, and behind you was all the things that you were so desperate to get away from, before you Lilia awaited with a bright light, no, with blue skies and sunlight all around her. The pad of you fingers tapped on the block, accepting the next step before deleting all her calls from your log. A weight had lifted from your chest, and even though you felt a slight sadness you knew that the happiness that you were going to build with your own two hands would be the most rewarding thing you had ever done in your life. Lifting your head you felt your heart leap in your chest at her smile, the way it shone with pride, her eyes glowing with love as she pulled your face closer to hers, her lips pecking yours. Parting, she wrapped her arms around your frame, not bothered by your messy hair or stained clothes.

-A step in the right direction. I’m so proud of you. Why don’t we go home and enjoy a celebratory dinner? We can clean this up tomorrow.

-Can we… can we stay like this for one more minute?

-We can stay like this all night.

#lilia calderu #lilia x reader #patti lupone #avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #patti lupone x reader #agatha all along #we thank miss lupone simply for existing

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thefadecodex · 1 day ago

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Hi! I came across a post a while back about Mythals spirit. Basically they said they didn't agree with the idea of Mythal being a spirit of "Benevolence" and they said It made more sense that she was a spirit of "Protection".

I thought about it and based on past Dragon Age lore she was called the All Mother and the Protector. People went to her seeking Protection Justice Vengeance. And everything she did throughout the Dragon Age games did fit with someone who embodied "Protection". Helping our heroes save the world. And even when she ruled as an Evanuris the terrible things she did was to protect her People.

And When I think of "Benevolence" as a concept I see it as Compassion Empathy Kindness Generosity. Like I can't really see a spirit of Benevolence making the Titans tranquil?

The Mythal fragment that was the most like her original self called the titans monsters and I do not think she (and honestly most of the Elvhen back then) had the compassion/empathy to even see the dwarves as people. They just took what they wanted to benefit themselves and their empire and it led to war. So it doesn't feel benevolent, I guess.

Anyway, I'm definitely inclined to agree with that person's post... but Im also not pleased with how this revelation conflicts with canon (Hate when that happens LOL) it's kinda like I wanna reconcile the two together?

Basically, Morrigan calls Mythals spirit "Benevolence" but do you think "Protection" suits her better? Or is it something else ? whatever your thoughts are on the kind of spirit Mythal is id like to hear it!!

(Sorry for rambling! Love your work ❤️)

Greetings, seeker of veiled truths!

First, thank you so much for your kind words, and don’t worry—you weren’t rambling at all! This is such an intriguing question, so let’s unpack it together.

When Morrigan refers to Mythal as a Spirit of Benevolence, it’s crucial to remember how DA defines spirits. A spirit embodies a concept, but that concept isn’t a neatly human-friendly archetype—it’s a primal force, distilled and absolute.

In this context, Benevolence isn’t limited to kindness, compassion, or warm nurturing. It’s an overarching, self-sacrificial commitment to the well-being of others—specifically, in Mythal’s case, her people–the elves. This form of Benevolence operates on a grand, often cosmic scale, and its methods may not always appear kind or gentle from a mortal perspective.

Benevolence Doesn’t Always Look Kind

The tension arises because we often view Benevolence through a mortal lens—a figure endlessly warm, patient, and selfless. But spirits aren’t bound by mortal morality or sentimentality. Their concepts manifest in ways that can feel cold, ruthless, or even cruel.

Mythal’s actions—calling the Titans monsters, exploiting the dwarves, and even her acts of justice or vengeance—weren’t born from softness. It is likely Mythal saw her actions as pragmatic choices made to ensure her people’s survival and prosperity. In her view, these decisions likely aligned with her deeper purpose, even if they were morally fraught.

To Mythal, the Titans were dangerous. Regardless of why/how the conflict began, they were at war. Mythal wasn’t observing the Titans as neutral entities—she was facing them as an active threat to her people and her purpose.

In war, perspective shapes action. To Mythal, the Titans weren’t just colossal beings—they were adversaries, capable of immense destruction. Whether her judgment of them as “monsters” was fair or justified is debatable, but in her eyes, it was likely a necessary stance to protect her people and their survival.

Protection as a Reflection of Benevolence

Protection is, in many ways, an expression of Mythal’s Benevolence. Sometimes that protection was fierce, even brutal. Sometimes it looked more like justice or even vengeance more than kindness. But at its core, the why of her actions—the driving force—was still rooted in Benevolence: the preservation and flourishing of those she cared for.

To draw a parallel: a mother wolf protecting her cubs isn’t gentle when her fangs are bared. She doesn’t negotiate with the predator threatening her young. But the reason she fights—the fire behind her fury—is love and care. That is Benevolence, expressed through the raw and unyielding instinct to protect.

In short: Protection is a tool. Benevolence is the purpose.

Morrigan recognizing Mythal as Benevolence is likely because she sees the root of Mythal’s nature. Beneath all the violence, cruelty, and compromises, Mythal’s purpose was always to care for, nurture, and preserve her people.

This isn’t a soft or idyllic Benevolence—it’s one that wages war to keep loved ones safe, that makes impossible choices in the face of extinction. It’s sharp-edged and relentless.

At her core, Mythal embodies Benevolence—not the comforting warmth of gentle compassion, but the unyielding drive to ensure others thrive, even when the means are harsh, messy, or morally complex.

It’s entirely valid to see protection as an integral expression of her Benevolence, but I think Morrigan’s insight holds: Benevolence was the root, and protection was the tool she wielded in its service.

Thank you for bringing such a thoughtful question to The Fade Codex—it’s one of those topics that reminds us just how layered and complex spirits truly are.

May your path through the Fade remain well-lit!—The Fade Codex

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howlsmovinglibrary · 2 days ago

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hi, im sorry if this sounds stupid but like. how do you get your brain to switch from academia to fanfic. like when im done with my lab reports and finally have time to write i feel like a textbook mimicking human speech

hey anon! none of this is stupid at all, please don't feel bad for asking a question :)

i think i should preface by saying, I wasn't a girl in STEM. I'm an English lit girlie, so often my academic work got me thinking about stories, which made me want to write stories, and thinking about D&D which made BG3 the perfect outlet! I couldn't write a paper titled 'D&D vampires are weird, huh?' but I could write stories around those themes. So sometimes my fic just became a place for me to explore the stuff that interested me but had no place in my professional work, which obviously made it easy to generate ideas and content.

but I have my advice under the cut! (bc this accidentally became a long post lol).

what advice I can give, however, is advice that was given to me by another friend, who is also a PhD student. She said (in quite a clinical way, but that's the kind of person she is) that she saw her fic and her writing as 'building mastery' - which was something she'd learned in therapy. the idea that practising something and working at it makes you better at it but also makes you feel better about yourself, because you can find enjoyment in the hobby and see improvements in your work. she wrote fic, to see a progress and a learning curve she didn't see in academia.

Idk what STEM is like, but often my experience in academia left me feeling stupid or inadequate. everything I wrote there mattered, and it didn't always bring me joy. I actually started writing fic, because I had just finished my PhD funding applications, and after sinking 100+ hours into something that made me miserable, I just wanted to write words that were fun for a change.

it doesn't always feel like it, of course, but fic doesn't matter. it should be fun. it can be silly, it doesn't have to fit a wordcount, it can be whatever you want it to be and it's never getting assessed at the end. and - unlike academia - typically it only receives positive feedback. so I write fic, bc it doesn't make me feel like shit, even when academia does. it's a different ballgame, and it has a much lower stakes, and more forgiving relative curve. i like it, becuase i switch my brain off, and get to have fun and play around in a way i don't in acadeimia.

so I guess my advice for this particular question - other than "please rest", bc like the last person who asked me about this you sound a wee bit burned out beloved - is.... it's literally fine, if you sound like a human textbook. forget the words and how they're coming to you as you write them - are you having fun with the idea? do you like the positive feeling of writing them, and the positive feedback you get either from yourself or others? that's how i switch from academia into fic mode. I find something that i actually find recreationally enjoyable (lol, academia).

let go of all expectations, and just follow the story or plot noodle that itches the happy parts of your brain. don't let it be about quality at all.

and, in case I've misunderstood the question and this is actually more an issue of stylistics - my fic got wordier as a result of my academia. even worse, my ACADEMIA got wordier as a result of my fic!!! (when the adverb curse follows you into your day job lmao). I don't think there's any way to prevent crossing the streams. But you can be sillier in fic, so add some jokes! make the stupid reference! let everyone be a little less formal!

and, if all else fails, get a second pair of eyes :) maybe from someone outside of the institution. they can tell you if you've become a pretentious ass overnight or not x

#asks #anons #fanfic double life

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shewasverynice · 3 days ago

Text

Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen

⚠️ SPOILER HEAVY ⚠️

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Full tags/warnings on Chapter links post

Major Characters: Original Character, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Ieiri Shoko, Yaga Masamichi, Nanami Kento, Haibara Yu, Tsukumo Yuki, Choso

‎‧₊˚✧ Chapter 27✧˚₊‧

"Move!" Haibara shouted, charging forward and knocking Sarah back with his shoulder. She grunted, but let herself fall as the curse sailed overhead and missed its pounce. Meanwhile, Nanami was at the ready and sliced the curse nearly in half before it began to dissipate.

"Damn! That was close!" Sarah laughed breathlessly when she sat up, but when she grinned up at Haibara and Nanami neither of them were smiling. She closed her mouth, sheepishly looking down at her hands in her lap. "I… I'm sorry."

"No, It's— Don't apologize," Nanami sighed, shaking his bangs out of his face. He glanced at Haibara who looked equally frustrated as he caught his breath. Nanami inhaled deeply for a moment, held it, then let it out slow before he squatted down to look at her. "You're too careless," he said sternly, "How did you not sense it?"

"I dunno," Sarah mumbled, looking at her shoes.

"Seems like you've been having a harder and harder time sensing them," Haibara said once he'd caught his breath, "Right, Nanami? I've noticed it too."

"Yes, I agree," Nanami said, holding his hand out for her as he stood up.

She took his hand and pulled herself to her feet. "You… may have a point…" She said quietly, "But how can that be? I've never had trouble before?"

"I have no idea," Nanami admitted, "I don't believe it's possible to 'get used' to being around curses."

Haibara suddenly gasped and pointed at Nanami. "But what if she's more used to being around a lot of cursed energy and that's why she's not sensing the small stuff?" he suggested, then looked at Sarah, "You're always around Geto and Gojo, maybe that's the problem? That's a lot of cursed energy to just hang around."

"I doubt that's it," Nanami said thoughtfully, placing his hand to his chin. "If that was the case then why is it only her? Shoko-senpai doesn't have this issue."

"Well and Shoko-senpai doesn't really go on dangerous missions so we wouldn't be able to tell," Haibara said with a shrug.

"Sarah, Kento, Yu," Yaga called and the three off them looked up to the hillside before moving to their mentor's side.

"Yes, sensei!" they called, lining up in front of him obediently.

"Sarah, go inform the manager that we're done here," Yaga commanded then turned to the boys, "You two, stay put."

Sarah hurried off and Yaga looked at the two boys with a grim expression. "This was something I feared may happen," their mentor said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Haibara asked, tilting his head.

Yaga cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back. "Cursed energy is inherently a negative force. But every force has…" He trailed off, glancing at the two boys expectantly.

"Something else?" Haibara said, his brows furrowing.

"An equal and opposite reaction," Nanami said, his eyes narrowing as he considered the possibility. He glanced up at Yaga and asked, "Is being around all this cursed energy depleting her secondary energy?"

Yaga said nothing and Nanami nodded. Haibara still looked confused, but then asked, "We're not hurting her are we?" Yaga said nothing once again, instead turning to lead the boys back to the car.

"You recall when Gojo explained her secondary energy?" Nanami whispered to Haibara.

Haibara nodded, "Yeah, so it's the opposite of cursed energy right? But what would that be?"

"They've been called it 'Blessed' energy for now, although Geto didn't exactly agree with the name," Nanami explained.

"So if cursed energy is negative normally then her stuff is positive normally?" Haibara asked.

"That's what I am assuming," Nanami agreed, "Which would mean that when the two combine they may be wiping each other out."

Haibara gasped and covered his mouth. "It it because she and I—"

"No, it has nothing to do with your relationship," Nanami said, rolling his eyes. He looked ahead at Sarah as she spoke to the Manager that had come with him. The girl didn't seem any worse for wear and her cursed energy was always minuscule so sensing a change was out.

"If only we could ask what's happening to her without the stupid vow," Haibara grumbled, "I bet it would make sense then."

"Then maybe we should ask the real her," Nanami suggested, glancing at Haibara with a hint of a smirk.

"Really?!" Haibara covered his mouth after he'd shouted, looking around as if the whole woods hadn't heard him.

"Gojo can do it," Nanami said with a nod, "He must have. There is no other explanation for why he knows more than we do."

"Why do you think it's Gojo-senpai that did it?" Haibara asked.

"Because what can't that idiot do?" Nanami sighed.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

"You serious?" Satoru laughed out the question, staring at the first years in front of him.

"Yes," Nanami repeated, "Please take us to speak with her tonight."

"No," Satoru said simply.

"Aww c'mon senpai!" Haibara groaned, "You know how to do it! At least tell us how!"

"Nah, see that's a slippery slope for all of us," Satoru chuckled darkly, "We can't keep fucking with something like that yet. I've already taken too many risks myself."

"It's not like you'd get hurt," Haibara huffed.

"No, but she would," Satoru warned, leaning in closer to Haibara. "Don't fuck with it yet. Don't even consider it."

"You've yet to explain why we can't," Nanami said, "In fact, it seems as if you have a lot more information on her that you're willing to share even with your own boyfriend. Why is that?"

Satoru was taken aback, then he grinned. "Oh-hoh! You gonna try to make me tell you?"

"Wait, this is—" "Yeah! I am gonna make you!" Haibara said excitedly, stepping up to Satoru's challenge.

"Hell yeah, Haibara let's go!" Satoru said, jumping up from his seat, "You and me. On the field right now! If you win, I'll tell you two literally everything I know."

Nanami considered this for a moment, then asked, "Am I allowed to assist?"

"Fuck yeah you can," Satoru said confidently, "Two on one is nothing to me. Let's go!"

The training field was mercifully empty when they arrived and the cicadas buzzed all around in the hot summer air. Satoru adjusted his sunglasses, his signature smirk plastered across his face as he walked onto the field with his hands in his pockets. The other two moved to stand across from him, both loosening up with stretches and rolls of their shoulders.

"Five minutes," Satoru announced, his voice carrying that unmistakable mix of arrogance and amusement. "If you two can last that long, I'll call it a win for you."

Haibara’s grin was as bright as the sun outside. "Five minutes? That’s easy! I’ll make you eat those words, senpai!" He hopped on his toes, shaking out his arms, brimming with energy.

Nanami, however, furrowed his brow. His sharp, calculating gaze flicked between Satoru's relaxed stance and the mischief glinting in his eyes. He sighed quietly, adjusting the grip on his cursed blade.

The moment Satoru clapped his hands together, the sparring match began.

Haibara lunged first, his fists glowing faintly with cursed energy as he aimed a powerful jab at Satoru's midsection. Satoru sidestepped effortlessly, pivoting just enough to let the punch skim harmlessly past him. "Not bad," he teased, flicking Haibara’s forehead with a speed so quick it was nearly imperceptible. Haibara stumbled back, blinking in surprise.

Before Satoru could press the advantage, Nanami was upon him, slashing in a precise diagonal arc. Satoru ducked smoothly, sweeping his leg in a low kick that Nanami leapt over at the last second. With a quick twist, Nanami reversed his momentum, bringing his blade down in a tight vertical slash.

Satoru caught Nanami’s wrist mid-swing, twisting just enough to force him back. "Ooh, nice form, Nanamin! You’ve been practicing."

Nanami gritted his teeth, jerking his arm free and retaliating with a rapid series of strikes. Satoru parried each with fluid, almost dismissive motions, his movements a step ahead at every turn.

Haibara rejoined the fray, coming in from Satoru's blind spot. His movements were wild but determined, a flurry of punches and kicks designed to overwhelm. Satoru spun gracefully, dodging one attack after another, his arms weaving a dance that deflected each strike without a scratch. At one point, Haibara thought he’d landed a clean kick to Satoru's ribs—only for Satoru to grab his ankle mid-air and swing him in a controlled arc, sending him tumbling to the floor.

"Come on, Haibara, you said this was going to be easy," Satoru quipped, offering a mock pout.

Undeterred, Haibara scrambled back to his feet, sweat dripping from his brow. "I’m just warming up!" he shot back, charging again.

The two underclassmen shifted tactics, coordinating their attacks. Nanami’s strikes came in sharp, calculated bursts, forcing Satoru to sidestep and block with precision, while Haibara’s relentless energy kept him dodging. It was an impressive display of teamwork—every time one of them pressed, the other followed up with a well-timed blow. But Satoru, to their mounting frustration, danced through it all like a leaf in the wind, never breaking his stride.

Nanami feinted a high slash and swept low instead, aiming to trip Satoru. It almost worked—Satoru teetered slightly—but he used the momentum to cartwheel out of range. He landed with an exaggerated flourish, spreading his arms wide. "You’re getting there! Maybe next year, though."

Haibara, seizing the opening, hurled himself forward with a fierce uppercut. For a fleeting moment, he thought he’d caught Satoru off guard—until Satoru leaned back just far enough for the punch to graze his chin, then delivered a playful tap to Haibara’s temple that sent him staggering.

By the three-minute mark, Nanami and Haibara were visibly flagging, their breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Their attacks grew slower, less coordinated. Satoru, by contrast, hadn’t even broken a sweat. His grin widened as he caught Haibara’s punch mid-swing, spun him around, and gently but firmly shoved him to the floor.

Nanami, seeing an opening, lunged with a powerful, cursed-energy-enhanced thrust. Satoru sidestepped and swept Nanami’s legs out from under him in one smooth motion, sending him sprawling.

The room fell silent except for the ragged breaths of Nanami and Haibara, both lying flat on their backs. Satoru crouched beside them, his expression smug but not unkind.

"Almost three minutes. Not bad at all," he said, ruffling Haibara’s hair as the younger boy groaned. "But you’re gonna need more than guts to beat me. How about I help you train? No charge, of course—my teaching is priceless."

Nanami sat up, glaring. "You could’ve gone easy on us."

"Easy?" Satoru laughed, standing and stretching lazily. "I didn’t even use Limitless. That was easy." He shot them a wink. "Come on, guys. Next time, aim for four minutes. Maybe then I’ll really try."

The training weeks rolled by in a blur of early mornings, aching muscles, and endless teasing from Satoru. Nanami and Haibara quickly learned that the hardest part wasn’t the grueling workouts—it was dealing with Satoru's mouth.

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!" Satoru sang, kicking open the dorm room doors at dawn. "Time to make your senpai proud! Or, you know, less disappointed."

Nanami groaned, burying his face deeper into his pillow. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Only when I’m asleep," Satoru said with a grin, yanking the blankets off him. "C'mon Nanamin! Haibara’s already downstairs stretching. If he beats you in the run today, I’m never letting you live it down!"

Downstairs, Suguru greeted Haibara with a calm smile, handing him a water bottle. "Good morning, Haibara. Ready for another day of pain?"

"You bet!" Haibara grinned, radiating energy despite the early hour. "I’m getting faster. I can feel it!"

Suguru chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "That’s the spirit."

Mornings began with runs. Long, endless runs through the school grounds and the surrounding woods, with Satoru jogging backward half the time, calling out taunts and challenges. "Haibara, you call that a sprint? My grandma moves faster! And Nanami, if you trip over one more root, I’m getting you real glasses."

Weights came next. Satoru wasn’t shy about piling on the plates, either. "You’ve got to push yourself past your limits!" he’d declare dramatically, lounging on a nearby bench. "Or, you know, just cry about it. Either works for me."

Suguru, thankfully, was the voice of reason. He’d step in with quiet encouragement, demonstrating proper form and reminding them to breathe. "Focus, Nanami. One more set. You’ve got this," he’d say, steady and patient, while Haibara chugged water and cheered them both on.

And then there was sparring. Always sparring. It was the highlight of every session—and the most humiliating part. Satoru would step onto the mat, his hands in his pockets, grinning like he owned the place. "Let’s see what you’ve got today," he’d say, as if they weren’t about to throw everything they had at him.

At first, every match ended the same way: quickly. A flick of Satoru's wrist here, a sidestep there, and they’d be on the ground in seconds, panting and defeated. But over time, something changed. The matches lasted longer—seconds ticking into almost a full minute, then a minute and a half. They started landing hits, tiny glancing blows that barely fazed him but felt like monumental victories.

"Hey, Nanamin, was that your fist or a mosquito?" Satoru teased one day after Nanami managed to graze his ribs.

"That was a warning," Nanami muttered, trying to catch his breath.

Haibara, meanwhile, got more creative. He’d charge in with reckless abandon, grinning even as Satoru threw him to the mat. "One of these days, senpai, I’m gonna wipe that smirk off your face!"

"Dream big, Haibara," Satoru replied, laughing as he helped him up. "But maybe dream a little smaller for now."

Months passed, and the grueling routine began to pay off. Haibara’s wild energy was more controlled, his strikes faster and more precise. Nanami’s movements grew sharper, his strategy more refined. And while Satoru still wiped the floor with them every single time, those precious extra seconds felt like victories in themselves.

One morning after a particularly long run, the group sat under the shade of a tree, sweat soaking their gym clothes. Satoru lounged with his hands behind his head, while Suguru passed around water bottles.

"You’re getting there," Suguru said, nodding at Nanami and Haibara. "I can see the progress."

"Yeah, yeah," Satoru chimed in, grinning. "At this rate, you might actually make me try in, like, a year or two."

Haibara laughed, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Five minutes isn’t impossible anymore. I can feel it."

Nanami didn’t say anything, but there was a faint smile on his face. He looked at his calloused hands, the ache in his muscles, and the fire in his chest, and he knew Haibara was right. Five minutes wasn’t impossible.

"Gojo-senpai," Haibara suddenly called, jumping to his feet. "I want to go one-on-one with you."

Satoru, remained reclining against the tree trunk with his arms behind his head, tilted his head up to squint at Haibara through his sunglasses. “You serious, Haibara?” he asked, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Because I don’t want you crying when this ends in, like, ten seconds.”

"I’m serious," Haibara replied, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. His confidence was contagious, and even Nanami raised an eyebrow from the sidelines, intrigued despite himself.

Suguru chuckled softly, sipping his water. "Go on, Satoru. Give him a shot."

Satoru pushed himself to his feet with an exaggerated groan, brushing off imaginary dust from his gym clothes. "Alright, Haibara," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let’s see what you’ve got. Just don’t embarrass yourself too much."

The two moved to the path, facing each other in the dappled sunlight. Nanami and Suguru settled in to watch, their interest piqued. Haibara dropped into a fighting stance, his easy smile not betraying a hint of nerves. "You ready?" he asked.

Satoru slid his hands into his pockets, giving a cocky shrug. “Born ready.”

The match began with Haibara darting in fast, throwing a clean jab aimed for Satoru’s chest. Satoru swayed like a leaf in the wind, effortlessly avoiding the strike and countering with a quick kick that Haibara barely managed to sidestep. Their movements were fluid, each exchange coming faster as Haibara pushed harder, and Satoru danced around him with infuriating ease.

But then Satoru’s sharp ears picked up something—barely audible over the rhythm of their movements. He froze mid-step, raising a hand to stop Haibara, who staggered back, confused.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Satoru said, pointing at him. "What the hell are you muttering?"

Haibara blinked, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "Oh, uh... It’s nothing. I just… kinda think of music when I’m fighting. It helps me focus, y’know?"

Satoru’s eyebrows shot up behind his sunglasses. He slid them off with one smooth motion, revealing his glowing Six Eyes. "Hold on. Think of music? Like, what kind of music? Sing it."

Haibara recoiled, his face burning red. "What? No way!"

“Come on,” Satoru pressed, his grin stretching even wider. “Don’t be shy. We’re only going to make fun of you a little."

Suguru snickered from the sidelines, and even Nanami allowed himself a faint smirk. "You’re not getting out of this now, Haibara," Suguru called, clearly enjoying the show.

Reluctantly, Haibara cleared his throat and began to sing, just loud enough to be heard over the rustling leaves. “Defy youuuu... to the eeeend…”

Satoru’s grin turned to delight as recognition dawned. “The Offspring? Oh, you’ve got taste, kid!” He clapped his hands once, a loud, approving sound that echoed through the clearing. “But don’t butcher it. Sing it properly. This is sacred ground.”

Haibara laughed despite himself, shaking off his embarrassment. He sang a little louder this time, his voice steadying as he moved back into his stance. Satoru grinned, raising his hands in a loose guard. “Alright, rockstar, show me what you’ve got.”

The fight resumed, and at first, nothing seemed different—until Haibara’s cursed energy shifted. His singing faltered as he realized the air around them was shimmering faintly, almost like heat haze. His strikes became sharper, his movements faster, but it was as if the energy wasn’t entirely his own. Satoru’s grin widened, his Six Eyes glowing brighter as he took a step back to assess.

Then it happened. Haibara’s cursed energy surged, bright and fierce, rippling like a wave. The world around them seemed to flicker for just a moment, and everyone froze. Even Suguru sat up straighter, and Nanami’s eyes widened.

“Whoa,” Satoru breathed, his grin splitting into a laugh. “Well, well, well. Look at that. That’s a sign of something pretty fucking cool, Haibara.” He clapped Haibara on the shoulder, his amusement replaced by genuine excitement. “You’ve got something special in you, kid. Let’s see how far we can take it.”

"S-something special?" Haibara panted, looking at Satoru, then down at his own palms. He flexed his fingers, balling his fists back up. Something had happened. "What was that? Was that a cursed technique?"

"Not exactly," Satoru said tilting his head. He pointed at Haibara and said, "That was almost a domain expansion."

"Now hold on," Nanami said, standing up, "That's… impossible isn't it? He doesn't have an innate technique?"

"Well, technicalities like simple domain aside," Suguru chimed in, standing up as well, "It should be impossible. However, I trust Satoru's eyes more that my knowledge on the subject."

"It's interesting actually," Satoru said, tilting his head, "By all the taught knowledge it should be impossible. But I always had a theory about it."

"You talk like an old scientist," Suguru teased and Satoru only shrugged and poked out his tongue.

"So what you're saying is that I do have a technique?" Haibara asked, looking up at both his senpai, "You're not messing with me, right? You really mean it?"

"Here's the thing," Satoru said, throwing his arm around Haibara. He cleared his throat dramatically then said, "I don't know." Haibara slumped and Satoru grinned at him while he shook his shoulder. "Hey, relax, I'm not done! I don't know, but I do wanna find out. And you're gonna be my lab rat for a bit, yeah?"

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

"H-hold on…" Haibara huffed, leaning on the railing up the tall staircase. He winced as he stood up, stretching his legs and rubbing at his thighs. "I'm so sore… Gojo and Geto have really been working us hard!"

Sarah chuckled, adjusting a few loose strands of his hair and then fixing his jean jacket for him. He stood still, a goofy little smile on his face as he let her preen before he just couldn't take it any longer and he grabbed her hands.

"You're so cute," he said, grinning at her, "I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long for this date."

"Pff," she scoffed, tugging him along with her, "It's not a big deal. I'm not really all that high maintenance."

"Hmm," he hummed a little, following happily behind her with a goofy smile. "But you could be if you wanted to. You're definitely cute enough for that."

"Shut up," she laughed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean if I could get you nice things I could—"

"Don't do that," she huffed, stopping suddenly enough that he bumped into her back.

"Huh? Did—Did I make you mad?! I'm sorry!" he grasped her hands tightly, turning her to look at him. His eyes were wide and already a little teary and she couldn't help but giggle.

"You're so quick to get emotional," she teased, wiping under his eyes with her thumb, "Don't be. I'm not mad or anything. I just don't need you thinkin' you need to buy me things."

"Yeah?" he said softly, "I know girls like gifts and things so I thought maybe if I—"

"I like you plenty, Haibara-kun," she said with a softer smile than he expected, "Don't worry. You're a lot of fun. Don't read into other shit people do, okay? Just be you."

Haibara grasped her hand in both of his, his eyes wide and sparkling. "Can… can you call me by my first name now?" he asked suddenly.

She raised her eyebrow. "Oh, right, I forgot about that," she mumbled, "Would that be okay with you? I know it's a big deal."

"Yes! Please! I want it so bad!" he admitted readily, nodding excitedly.

She laughed, pulling their hands down still intertwined down. She leaned forward, just close enough for only him to hear her say, "Well, how about we keep going on our date… Yu?"

Haibara gasped and dropped her hands, pulling Sarah against his chest. His hand pressed the back of her head in and the other arm wrapped awkwardly around her waist. He kept it inside, but she could still hear him screech with his mouth closed and she couldn't help the muffled laugh buried in his t-shirt.

"Oh? All that huh?" she teased, trying to look up at him only to have him push her face back down.

"Don't look at me right now," he mumbled, "I-It's too much."

"Yeah? Just 'cos I said your name?" she asked, more seriously that time.

"It's… it's so crazy," he answered, peeking down at her for a moment before he looked away.

"Weird, but really cute," Sarah giggled, tugging on his hand again, "C'mon, people are staring. Let's go!"

Haibara nodded and followed after her. Eventually the curiosity bested him and he asked, "I'm surprised you think so. You grew up here, didn't you?"

She looked over at him and nodded, "Mhmm, yeah I did. I just never… thought it was a big deal…" She said, then furrowed her brows, "Because I… I didn't grow up… here?"

"Ah!" Haibara gasped, "L-Look! There's a—a place with gyoza! That's your favorite, right?!"

Sarah grinned at him, "Oh! Hell yes! Let's go!"

Haibara sighed with relief. It was too close. Always too close. And why did it always happen to him? It was like he was constantly having to jump through hoops to keep her from panicking. How was he supposed to learn more about his girlfriend this way?

There had to be a solution. There had to be some way, right? Some way for him to ask her about herself and get an answer that wasn't based on some big fake memories planted by the higher ups. But that of course… that required him to learn how Satoru was doing it.

"Do you think I could last five minutes in a real fight with Gojo-senpai?" Haibara asked suddenly.

"Pff," Sarah scoffed, "I don't think anyone could if he was going all out." Haibara slumped and sighed and she quickly patted his arm. "Oh, don't take it too seriously okay?" She said with a smile, "It's not your fault. He's just naturally amazing at like… everything."

"Yeah, he really is," Haibara sighed, "I want to beat him though because I… I just need to. For something I need."

"Something you need?" Sarah asked, glancing up at the menu board at the stand with Gyoza.

"Yeah, it's like… something really important," Haibara said, "Something I can't get unless I do it."

"What makes you think you have to do that?" She asked, "Like… isn't there another way?"

"Another way?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah! If Gojo is an immovable wall, then maybe you can just… go around?" She suggested.

Haibara pointed at her, his mouth fallen open. "That's a great idea! Go around! I can do that!"

"Yeah! You definitely can!" Sarah said, patting his back. "You can figure this out!"

"You're right! I absolutely can!" He beamed, looking at the menu.

That evening, he dropped her off at the doors to the main HQ building. Nothing unusal. A quick peck on her cheek and she was off with a blissful smile and a blush. Haibara, meanwhile, was going to figure this out. There had to be a way. There just had to be!

Haibara crouched behind a large stone pillar near the entrance, his chestnut eyes tracking the subtle movements of the guards stationed at the perimeter. Each step he took was careful, or at least as careful as he could manage. He wiped the sweat from his brow and turned his attention back to Sarah once he was sure the guards had stopped watching him. She moved with tense determination, her steps brisk yet purposeful as she approached the two handlers waiting for her. Gojo hadn't lied about that part, not that he expected him to. Haibara stayed low, barely daring to breathe as he watched the exchange unfold. Sarah crossed the threshold, and the barrier flared for a moment, shimmering like heatwaves in the air. The sound of her scream pierced the stillness, and Haibara winced, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if to shield himself from the sound. His teeth ground together as he watched the guards catch her trembling form, steadying her until she recovered. Her voice came next, muffled and too soft for him to discern, but it seemed calm despite her earlier cry. "Come on, Sarah," he muttered under his breath, leaning forward slightly to catch a better look. With a subtle nod from one of the handlers, Sarah was escorted down a set of stairs. Haibara waited, his legs cramped but steadfast, watching until the last shadow of her presence disappeared below. Only then did he move, emerging from his hiding spot and following quickly. He scanned the area, searching for another entry point. He tried the nearest side path, but yet another line of glowing talismans blocked his way, their protective energy sizzling faintly in the air when he approached. Another route led to a pair of guards stationed by a large gate, their stances alert. More alert than he was expecting. Haibara paused in the cover of a dense bush, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "There’s gotta be a way in," he muttered, clenching his fists. Gojo did it somehow. He kept repeating that in his mind. But the usual brute force Gojo would favor wasn’t an option. Haibara was pretty good, but he was nowhere near that good. He sighed, running through his options. "What would Geto-senpai do?" His thoughts conjured an image of Geto’s easy smile, the way he charmed his way through situations with calm words and clever manipulation. “Yeah… maybe that could work.” Straightening his posture, Haibara adjusted his expression to one of weary exasperation and stepped out from the shadows, deliberately walking into the guards’ line of sight. "Hey, uh…" he called out, scratching the back of his head and letting his voice tremble slightly. "I think I’m lost. Any chance one of you guys could help me out?" The guards exchanged a wary glance, their hands hovering near their weapons. Haibara’s heart pounded, but he kept his face as neutral as he could, leaning on his best impression of Geto’s confidence. "Smile and sweet talk," he thought. "Just smile and sweet talk."

Haibara swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his smile intact as the guards stared him down. He could feel the weight of their scrutiny, every second stretching out like an eternity. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to fidget, but he held his ground. “I was… supposed to be training with the people who handle the ceremony,” he said, pitching his voice to sound just uncertain enough to seem harmless. Vague was good. Gojo had told him everything he needed to know about the ceremony—the strange ashes, the weird energy of the ritual—but how much could he safely reveal without giving himself away? One of the guards raised an eyebrow, his hand still resting on the hilt of his weapon. “Training, huh?” he asked, his tone skeptical. “Who sent you?” Haibara didn’t hesitate, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “Gojo-san.” His heart skipped a beat as soon as the name left his lips. "What did I just do?" Panic surged through him, but he kept his expression neutral, his mind racing for a way to backpedal. But before he could say anything, the guards exchanged a look and nodded. “Alright,” one of them said, stepping aside. “Follow us.” Haibara blinked, barely concealing his surprise. They bought it? Relief mingled with a new wave of anxiety as the guards turned and began descending the stairs. He followed, his footsteps casual as he could manage but his mind a chaotic whirl. His fingers found the hem of his shirt, and he began fidgeting with it, twisting the fabric between his fingers as they descended deeper into the building. The air grew cooler, the walls narrowing as they moved into what felt like an underground chamber. His eyes darted between the guards, their broad backs blocking most of his view. "I’m so screwed," he thought, his stomach twisting. "What was I thinking? Throwing Gojo’s name around like that? What if they double-check? What if—" He forced himself to take a slow breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. He needed a plan, something clever enough to get him through this. Geto could talk his way out of anything, right? Maybe Haibara could too—if he didn’t choke. One of the guards glanced over his shoulder, and Haibara quickly plastered on a sheepish smile. “So, uh… how often do they run these ceremonies?” he asked, his voice light, as if he were just making small talk. The guard said nothing, his eyes merely flicking to Haibara for a moment before refocusing ahead. "That’s not ominous at all," Haibara thought grimly, his fingers tightening on his shirt. He glanced around as they reached the bottom of the stairs, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of the dimly lit corridor ahead. The faint scent of ash lingered in the air, mingling with something darker, more sinister.

The air shifted without warning. Haibara’s body tensed as he felt it—a wave of energy washing over him. But unlike the oppressive, suffocating force he expected, this was something entirely different. It was soft and light, like the touch of a gentle breeze or the warmth of sunlight breaking through clouds. His racing heart slowed, his breathing evening out as a strange calm settled over him. His eyelids grew heavy, threatening to close entirely, and for a moment, he forgot where he was. It felt safe, like a long-forgotten lullaby sung to quiet his fears. "This has to be it," he thought, his mind grasping at the faint threads of hope. "The second energy… Sarah’s energy. They’re taking me to her." But the tranquility shattered in an instant. The guards halted abruptly, their hands gripping Haibara’s arms as they forced him forward. Before he could react, he was thrust into a cold, empty room, the stone walls closing in like the jaws of a predator. The stark chill bit at his skin, starkly contrasting the warmth he’d felt moments ago. His gaze darted around the room, taking in its bleakness, until it landed on the figure standing at its center. An old man, tall and thin, loomed over him, dressed in a flowing robe that seemed to absorb the dim light. His face was lined with age, his sharp eyes glaring down at Haibara with a piercing intensity. The man’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Did you tell anyone else what you know?” Haibara froze, his mind scrambling for an answer. His mouth opened, but no words came out, just a garbled mess of stammered syllables. “I—I didn’t— I mean…” he trailed off, his throat dry as sand. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as the gravity of the situation pressed down on him. The old man’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression as unyielding as stone. Haibara’s thoughts raced, every possible response falling apart before it reached his tongue. But no clever words or cunning plans came to him. All he could do was stand there, the weight of his mistake pressing down harder with each passing second.

Taglist:

@inthedarkshadows000

#fanfiction #writing #a03 fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #fix it fic #reincarnation fic #jjk

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