#it's what i do when i can't figure out what i should be doing for a plot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keferon · 3 days ago

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Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!

_____________________

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Part 1. Next->

The fic under the cut⤵️

Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.

“Prowl, do you know what the Great Hunt is?”

Prowl tilts his head keeping up with the lists he received from the Council.

“Traditional raids on monsters made to consolidate control over the land holdings of regular Mechs.”

Orion rubs the bridge of his nose

“It's a massacre.”

Prowl twitches his wing.

“It is a measure of intimidation against creatures that cannot be negotiated with. Brutal, I don't deny that, but experience shows it works. The destructive activity of monsters lessens considerably if they know their actions can be followed by punishment.”

Orion stares at him. For a long time. Silently.

Tensely studying him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“You think killing them instead of finding a compromise is...right?”

Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.

“I think it works. That is all. Monsters do a lot of damage with their existence. They kill, destroy and pillage. If periodically reducing their numbers reduces their damage, it confirms the effectiveness of the strategy.”

“They just want to live. Primus' sake, they want to eat.”

Prowl sighs. More for appearances than for any real effect.

“I suppose I can't judge them for wanting to survive. It makes sense.”

Orion nods.

He looks oddly pensive.

“Ratchet keeps picking up wounded...” he stammers, apparently trying to find a suitable alternative to the word monster “...wounded beastformers. I've been to his house. It's generous, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets caught doing it.”

Prowl frowns

“He should have stopped.”

“You wouldn't understand.” sighs Orion ”Him. Shockwave. We want to help. To make things better. I don't need you to chide me for disobeying the rules, I need you to figure out how to change them. Ghosts and insecticons deserve freedom as much as we do.”

“But...”

Orion looks at him angrily.

“No. Whatever you're going to say in response to that. No. I know you're driven primarily by logic, but I need you to remember it well. All sentient beings deserve to live free. Do you understand? All of them. Period.”

Prowl rolls up the lists and interlocks his fingers in front of him. There are small scuffs on his thumbs and index fingers from constant writing. He occupies himself with running his fingers over them, feeling the difference in texture.

“Mech's freedom in such a case ends where someone else's hungry jaws begin. You can't expect monsters and Mechs to just coexist in peace if you give them freedom.”

“No” sighed Orion ”That's why I support Shockwave's idea with creating an academy for magically gifted Mechs. He's helping to show the world that so-called 'dark creatures' can be as civilized citizens as any Mech. He teaches them to find that compromise. We can't just expect centuries of hate and fear to be forgotten once the laws change. We must direct this process. To help the Mechs understand and accept each other. Guide them, you might say.”

Prowl feels a headache coming on, as it always does when Orion requires him to logically solve a problem the answer to which lies in the feelings rather than the intellect. He's not built for this. It irritates him.

Orion stops right in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me what you think of this. If...let's pretend for a second that my morality fiddles don't matter anymore. That the problem of Mechs and monsters coexisting is something you alone need to solve. And solve it in such a way that the outcome is optimal for us as a society. To maximize the number of happy citizens. What would you do?”

Prowl is silent for a moment.

Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.

“'Free from my judgmental conclusions, Prowl. From the standpoint of pure logic. What should we do?”

What to do...Prowl's thought process finally finds a direct and understandable train of thought. Monsters make up a paltry few percent of the population of all living Mechs. The numbers fluctuate depending on which region is being considered of course.

In some cities, some types of monsters are considered just fancy Mechs. Some monsters have risen from the status of savages to being respectable Mechs over the course of history. Even Orion's best friend, Shockwave, could be regarded as a mystical creature in some regions due to his gift of flight.

Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.

But even that tiny percentage takes a significant toll on the economy and quality of life, because just one uncontrollable creature can terrorize an entire city.

He notes the weight of Orion's hand on his shoulder. Not judgmental. Orion promised he wouldn't judge.

“I'd get rid of the monsters.”

“Oh” Orion blinks ”Locked them in cages? Chased them away? Killed them?”

Prowl twitches his wings

“Banishment will only move the problem in terms of space, and imprisonment isn't secure enough. It would make sense to get rid of the monsters. Once and for all. It wouldn't be pretty or merciful, but it would greatly improve life for everyone, at the cost of a tiny percentage of living beings who were already of no use.”

“And you believe that would be a good outcome?”

“I believe it would.”

“But you're not a Mech yourself.” Orion reminds “Would you be willing to be exterminated along with the rest of the creatures if your plan were put into action?”

Prowl tilts his head slightly. Just to make it easier to look at Orion.

“You created me to, as you put it, help you make the world a better place. Sometimes in order to improve something you have to cut out the factors that get in the way. It's simple logic.”

“You didn't answer my question” Orion points out ”How would you feel if I decided to take your advice and destroy all mystical creatures, including you?”

“I am not made to feel” straightens Prowl ”My job is to find solutions to problems. I gave you a solution.”

“You don't include yourself in the reckoning.” snorts Orion “Again. You talk as if you will never be affected by anything.”

As it should be, Prowl thinks. He's a conscientious worker and a ..seemingly law-abiding citizen. He does what he can to make Mech's lives better. Even though he may not be a Mech, he's doing the right thing. Why would something happen to him?

Orion removes his hand from his shoulder and shakes his head.

“'Alright. I've heard you. But I want to make it as clear as possible - what you suggested is immoral, cruel, and should never be implemented. Do you understand me? Never. If you want to build a better world, you cannot and will not build it on other people's deaths. Have I made myself clear enough?”

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

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

Ratchet looks...many words could be used to describe him.

He's standing in the center of the trial room with a lot of emotions written all over his face. But if Prowl had to describe - he'd say Ratchet practically radiates rage. Not violent. More of a powerless one.

The rage of a Mech who knows he's cornered, but refuses to even consider giving up and admitting defeat.

Prowl sits in a far dark corner, silently documenting the whole process.

The council is furious. They apparently discovered that Ratchet has been dragging wounded monsters to his house and healing them all this time.

Which is ... very much as expected from Ratchet.

Prowl wants Orion here, but both Orion and Shockwave are now on a diplomatic mission a few days away, so the only support Ratchet has is...Prowl. Who can't help in any way, so he just sits there and meticulously documents the whole process so that Orion can then be informed of every single detail.

The council doesn't look happy. They say that Ratchet is sabotaging the hunters' efforts to contain the monsters by his actions.They are angered by Ratchet's absolute determination to insist that he was doing the right thing.

Prowl would be impressed, if only Ratchet's stubbornness made sense.

It's simple math. Ratchet saves lives. Monsters take them.

Thus Ratchet's life has much, much more weight and is more valuable.

If Ratchet would just accept the Council's decision now and promise to stop curing monsters, the whole problem would be solved as efficiently as possible.

But Ratchet, of course, persists. Probably just because that's his nature.

Ratchet can also afford to be so stubborn because his skill level makes him incredibly valuable to the Council. Prowl knows for a fact that if any other medic were in Ratchet's shoes right now - they would have been sentenced to banishment or execution by now.

When Ratchet realizes exactly how the Council caught him, his rage is instantly replaced by shock.

This revelation is enough to startle him and make him back down. To nod and numbly swear that he will end his "blasphemous hobby."

Prowl carefully folds the scribbled scrolls into the case as the Council doors close behind both his and Ratchet's backs.

“Orion will be happy to know that you were prudent enough to avoid death.”

Ratchet shifts his gaze to him

“You knew? Knew they could see through our optics? Did you know they could find out anything about any Mech at any time?”

Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely

“Knowing things is my job.”

Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.

“How does Orion deal with it...”

“Orion has a reputation with the Council. They consider him a decent, law-abiding Mech, so they see no point in keeping tabs on him.”

“Are you kidding?” Raetchet raises his eyebrows “Orion can't do everything he does and remain ‘decent’ in their eyes. He and Shockwave practically cuddle with every possible creature every day and all they get is a little reprimand????”

Prowl tilts his head

“Orion learned to look away in time. And he has me for everything else.”

Ratchet doesn't answer him. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly and starts to walk away.

His shoulders look oddly tense. He looks defeated, but not in the way a Mech would describe a slain turbofox. No. There is a deep-seated, angry determination.

A willingness to act dictated by desperation.

The news of the surveillance has thrown Ratchet off balance but not knocked him off his feet as the Council had hoped.

Prowl looks at his back and walks off in the opposite direction. The problems of living, feeling Mechs have always been and will always be mysterious to him.

Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.

He doesn't stage protests. He doesn't accept the verdict.

He leaves silently, taking with him only medical supplies and an old lantern.

The council is furious, turning over every stone in an attempt to find him, but all in vain.

Prowl's daily duties now include “keeping track of any possible news related to Ratchet.“

And then, no matter what he finds, report to Orion that he's found nothing.

Put on a little regular show for all concerned. Show the Mechs in the Council that Orion remains loyal and does his best to find and bring to justice any blasphemer whether it's a friend of his or not.

He is his purpose. But the more time passes, the harder it becomes for him to trace the path to the fulfillment of that purpose. He envies the golems whose only function is to scrub floors. Their lives are understandable. A clean floor is a temporary but easily attainable goal. They are happy to fulfill the goal for which they were created. And then they're happy knowing their job is done well, until the floor gets dirty again.

Prowl is walking towards his goal, but it's not getting any closer. He knows what he needs to do to get there, but the variables are constantly changing and he has to adjust his course of action each time according to new information, conditions, and Orion's opinion on them.

Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.

————————————

Orion doesn't turn around on him as they walk down the hall. But Prowl can physically feel the attention focused on him.

“Prowl. Did you know I was awarded today for my ''outstanding service'' by the entire Council?”

“I did not.

“They've gone through all the reports and discovered that according to the logs me and my mechs are performing excellently when it comes to eliminating mystical threats.”

“Congratulations.”

“It's funny that you feel the need to congratulate me too” Orion continues ”Because I certainly didn't give orders to eliminate anyone.”

Their pacing doesn't falter. They continue to walk calmly down the hallway as if nothing is happening. But Prowl can practically taste the increased tension.

“Prowl” says Orion “Why is the Council rewarding me for murder? And where are the Mechs they think I killed now?”

Prowl checks the scrolls. Not because he doesn't remember. Just to buy some time to formulate an answer.

“They were the inevitable casualties. I took charge of their destruction. On your behalf.”

“You know how I feel about killing.”

“I know.” nods Prowl for some reason. Why? Not that Orion can see it “I also know how the Council feels about Mechs showing suspicious activity. They would have started watching you as soon as they noticed you were letting monsters slip away from you suspiciously often.”

Orion...sounds... conflicted. He sounds struggling.

“You killed them.”

“I gave the order. As any other hunter would have done in my place.”

Orion stops so abruptly that Prowl doesn't catch the moment and bumps into his back.

“We're supposed to be better than other hunters Prowl! How can you still not grasp that concept!!!”

Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.

Around them is a relatively empty hall. Windows covered by heavy curtains. The cleaning golems scurrying back and forth.

“I understand” he says “But let me remind you that you cannot test their trust infinitely. Your 'being better' rests on your reputation. And it's my job to make sure your reputation lives up to it.”

Orion looks at him...Prowl isn't even sure how to describe it. Usually he has to argue with Orion's logic, proving his point but this time...Orion is the one arguing with him.

It feels strange. Uncomfortable.

He's doing everything Orion wanted him to do, but for the sake of it he has to do something Orion can't stand.

Orion clenches and unclenches his fists helplessly. Rubbing the fabric of his cloak.

“Shockwave can save lives without killing anyone.”

“Shockwave is one unfortunate act away from serious consequences” shakes his head Prowl “His academy is looking more and more like his own small army every day. His students are not loyal to the Council, they are loyal to Shockwave. And the Council knows that. And will use it. And it won't be pretty when it happens.”

“No...” shakes his head Orion, not addressing anyone in particular ”No no no no no...”

Prowl can understand why Orion is upset. But he also knows he's right this time. Shockwave may look like a fine example of mercy, but he walks on the very edge of the law and any wrong move will instantly turn him from “out of the box thinker” to renegade.

The Council will come for his head and the Council will get his head because Shockwave will have nothing to prove his loyalty with.

Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.

Orion can bend the rules, can borrow the Council's trust, can do all sorts of reprehensible things. He can stumble and fall and then fall a couple more times and find that it doesn't hurt him because Prowl caught him even before he stumbled.

He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.

But Orion's life is far more valuable than the lives of monsters.

Society doesn't need monsters to become better, but society needs Orion. Monsters need Orion. Because if Orion is gone, no one else will care about his idealistic goal.

“Sometimes I forget how creepy you can be...” mutters Orion ”You're going to betray me sooner or later.”

“I could never betray you.” Prowl twitches his wing.

“You've successfully betrayed what I believe in.”

“It's fine with me if you hate me for it. As long as you are alive, safe, and can continue your quest.”

Orion falls silent.

He turns away to stare at a strip of light from a nearby window. There are beautiful, wrought iron grates that cast an intricate, curved shadow on the floor and walls.

A golem janitor hurries past them.

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Shockwave falls.

Prowl isn't there to see for himself, but a lot of rumors reach him. Lots. Lots of rumors.

The Mechs say the time of the Great Hunt has come.

They say that when the hunters arrived on the Academy's doorstep, Shockwave didn't let them in.

They say. He stood in front of the gates.

With sword in one hand and the Primus Covenant in the other, and declared that his school was a sanctuary for all living beings in need of protection.

Claimed that anyone who dared set foot inside with a weapon would have to go through him.

“And they retreated!” gestures Orion frantically ”They didn't dare test him! They backed away from the walls of the Academy. I don't know how many monsters were left alive in the forests that night, but none of Shockwave's students were harmed...”

Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness

“The Council wouldn't just let him do that.”

Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.

“You're right, you're right. You're right now and you were right back then. They're going to bring him before the Court by tomorrow, and...”

“There's no chance of that ending well,...is there?" Prowl finishes his thought.

Orion looks pained

“They'll be going through everything he's been up to. Every forged document, every enrolled Mech who by all criteria should be considered a monster. Every time he sheltered them from the Council instead of destroying them. They'll realize what he's been doing and they won't like it at all.”

Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.

“Shockwave has tremendous support from his Academy. There's a chance the Council will be afraid of invoking their wrath and won't judge Shockwave too harshly.”

Orion continues to walk in circles

“You think so?”

“There is a good chance.”

Prowl finds Orion in Sickbay. Which is very disturbing and wrong, because Orion was supposed to be at the Trial. Supporting Shockwave and begging the Council to relent.

But Orion is in Sick Bay. When he shouldn't be.

And he's covered in ugly dark burns. From something Prowl can't recognize.

This is all wrong. It's all--

“What happened at the trial?”

Orion sounds. Startled.

“There was no Trial.”

“What?”

Orion sounds as if something inside him has cracked. In every sense of the phrase.

“The Trial hasn't even had time to begin. He...” Orion clutches his trembling fingers, hoping to still them, but it has no tangible effect. His shoulders are trembling.

He looks like his whole body could be torn apart with one careless touch. “They asked him if he would plead guilty to aiding and abetting dark creatures. All they had time to ask was if he realized he was wrong.”

An uncomfortable, prickly feeling settles in Prowl's mind.

"And?”

Orion squeezes his fingers so hard the creaking of hinges becomes audible.

“It...I...Prowl, his very spark began to ooze dark magic. It was horrible, it was like.. it was eating him from the inside. The entire courtroom became darker than night, many Mechs got burned. I've never seen anything like this before! He..It.. started attacking Mechs and destroying everything...it was like it went crazy...it attacked me and I had to...Prowl I had to fight it! I didn't...I'd heard about it happening but I believed until the last minute that I wouldn't have to face it...”

Gears of chaotic detail fall into place in Prowl's mind.

“Shockwave...turned into a demon...?”

Orion nods shakily

“The Council didn't even have a chance to sentence him or spare him or even sort out what happened.....

He stated that he did not consider himself guilty for what he had done and...Primus was the one who made the judgment before anyone else could...”

That's... terrifying really. For a number of reasons. Losing a close friend is awful, being subjected to such merciless punishment is awful, but also...

What sends a chill down Prowl's back is the moral implication that such punishment carries.

Orion, as if reading his thoughts, raises his gaze to him

“Is what we are doing...wrong? I don't...does Primus think helping monsters is worthy of punishment?”

Now that's a really reasonable question.

Shockwave would say that Primus is merciful and would never condemn a Mech for an act of kindness. But Shockwave ended up being condemned.

Ratchet would say that he doesn't care about Primus' opinion because Primus isn't real. But Ratchet isn't here.

Prowl wants to say that it doesn't matter whether or not Primus thinks they're wrong, what matters is that he can at any moment force his justice on any living spark, so his concept of right has to become Orion's too, or else he's doomed. But Orion is definitely in no state to have a philosophical argument. He looks shattered and Prowl almost instinctively is about to go and find Shockwave, but remembers that option is no longer available.

He's not made for this. Shockwave has always been the one to cheer Orion up on a bad day. Not Prowl, no. Prowl isn't sure what to do so he just sits down next to him and gently places a hand on Orion's shoulder. The one where he can't see the burns, so it shouldn't hurt.

“I don't. I'm used to always relying on your point of view as a reference for what's right and what's wrong.”

“I know” runs a shaky hand over his face Orion “But it's not like I'm perfect. I try, god, I try but just like with the logical part - my vision isn't flawless. Have I been...wrong all this time? Trying to disrupt Primus' intended vision? Maybe what I've been trying to fix never needed fixing. Maybe it's just me being so stupid and not understanding things maybe...???”

Orion cuts himself off mid sentence, realizing that he's started raising his voice and waving his arms around again. He sits back down on the medical bed and curls back up into a miserable ball.

“What should I do....”

“I don't know,” Prowl repeats awkwardly.

He is his goal. But his goal ..doesn't exist anymore?

He doesn't know where to put himself.

Golems are made to fulfill requests. But Orion's request system has been evolving and complicating for so long that Prowl can't tell where its boundaries are anymore.

He feels lost.

——————————

Orion stops cold.

“What...”

Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.

They are in a spacious courtyard bordering directly on the Council building. It's a very beautiful, open and spacious place because it was originally built with large crowds of Mechs in mind. There's wide walkways, a massive circular plaza with fountains and statues.

And right now, it's filled to the brim with Mechs, most of whom Prowl is seeing for the first time. They're all wearing knight armor and carrying weapons, however still kept in their scabbards.

They look like a small army. A very, very diverse army, Prowl realizes. Because there are almost no regular Mechs among them.

Orion looks... distraught.

Mechs? Monsters? A few knights separate and come closer, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Orion Pax.”

There is so much grief and disbelief in Orion's eyes that it physically hurts to look at him.

When he begins to speak his voice sounds hoarse, like someone has poured sand down his throat.

“What...what are you doing here...?”

The knight standing in front of everyone ceremoniously places his palm on his spark.

“We are here to fulfill the last will of our mentor and your friend. Shockwave has decreed in his last will that in the event of his death his legacy must pass to you and those of us who wish to carry on his work must publicly pledge our allegiance to your will.”

Orion clutches his hands together to keep them from starting to shake again.

“But...I was there. I...your mentor was slain by my hands...how can you..."

"It doesn't matter. Everything that was his is now yours." smiles the knight sadly "We will make sure his legacy lives on. And even if the Academy falls - you can always count on us."

At the same time as he finishes speaking, the knight in blue armor drops to one knee, pulling Shockwave's sword from its sheath and holding it out respectfully to Orion... who looks like he's about to start crying.

He dazedly accepts the sword, twitching in surprise when it turns out to be heavier than expected and probably tries to say something, but all that comes out is a short sorrowful sigh.

He just.

Clutches the sword to his chest, watching in disbelief as all the arriving mechs get down on one knee following the blue knight. There aren't that many mechs, but at this point - they seem to rival the sea.

Prowl knows some of them. Many of them made their way to Shockwave after Orion found them. There's the harpy over there who nearly ripped Orion's head off the first time they met. A few ghosts he can remember the faces of but doesn't know the names. He'd had a long argument with Orion that day, trying to convince him that he shouldn't take their word for it when they promised to make it up to him.

And now they're all here. In beautiful new armor. Executing their mentor's last will and testament.

Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.

The crowd of hunters that has come to find out what's going on looks as speechless and dumbfounded as Orion.

" What" Orion also gets down on one knee to be on the same level as the knight "what's your name?"

Prowl squints warily from behind Orion's shoulder. The blue mech looks normal, but to be honest, there's no way someone coming out of the Shockwave Academy is going to be an normal plain mech. There has to be a catch somewhere.

"My name is Skids," smiles the knight shyly. "I am...was...Shockwave's best student."

"You are very brave Skids" smiles Orion sorrowfully "I promise to do my best to take care of Shockwave's legacy. And you."

Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.

"This is crazy..."

Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head

"It's also quite devious. Shockwave told them specifically to swear to you where all comers can see it. So there's no way for the Council to accuse you of purposely swaying an army of monsters to your side. Everyone saw that this gift was given by force. Now you have many allies with unique skills who are loyal to you and the Council won't try to take them away because they are firmly convinced that you are loyal to the Council."

Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.

"It is..."

"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."

"And I don't know what to do with it!" raises his head Orion "Shockwave was smarter than me and made a lot of plans in case of...I don't know...anything?? I didn't...Prowl. We've been down this path for so long and I was always sure there would be something good at the end of it. Or at least better than it is now..."

Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly

"...But if there's only the wrath of Primus and endless darkness at the end...I can't ask anyone to follow me there. I'm not sure if I can keep going myself..."

He sighs helplessly

"I'm not even sure if that even matters."

"The chance that Shockwave would try to use you in some way was about twenty-eight percent."

Orion twitches

"What?"

"I understand that you're hurt by his...fate." Says Prowl "But have you considered the possibility that Shockwave was being punished for betraying you rather than the Council?"

Orion doesn't even answer at first. Just looks at him dazed and bitter.

"Prowl...no. He couldn't have."

"I'm just speculating" shrugs Prowl "Shockwave was punished but as far as I know God didn't bother to name the exact charge. We don't know one hundred percent what exactly caused his...sentence. He may have betrayed the Council's ideas, or he may have betrayed yours."

They both just exist in silence for a while. Processing the information.

"If...and I mean if!!! If Shockwave was convicted of harboring monsters, then everything we've been doing all this time can be considered useless blasphemy..." says Orion slowly "...but if he was punished for something else..."

"...then that would mean there's nothing wrong with your idea." finishes Prowl.

Orion frowns

"It would also mean that Shockwave lied to me..."

Prowl nods. The situation is ugly no matter which way you look at it.

Shockwave, as Prowl knows him, would hardly have framed Orion, but Mechs tend to go to great lengths to avoid execution.

If Shockwave had shifted some of the blame to Orion then, it would have partially saved him. Was that what he was going to do? Was this what Primus had stopped him from doing?

Orion's finials twitch slowly

"I don't know Prowl. I don't know what to do. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my fantasies."

Orion is hard to read, but right now he's an open book.

Prowl tilts his head

"You're scared."

Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.

Discolored.

" I am."

Prowl can't work with that. He's used to solving logical problems and making lists and strategies.

He doesn't know how to get someone to stop being scared.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." mutters Orion "I don't know, I have no idea. It's too much...All these new knights, this whole council situation and now you're also saying that the mech I treasured the most could actually be a liar and...just leave me alone."

"But..."

"Just go away!" shakes his head Orion "Go find something else to do, find a hobby, I don't know! Get out of my head and out of my personal life!"

Prowl nods silently.

Places a couple papers in their places and silently walks out the door.

Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.

And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.

Orion's too stunned by everything that's happened to give him a clear purpose. And without a purpose, he...he's gone.

He continues to stand by the closed door.

A thought runs obsessively through his mind.

If Shockwave was sentenced for something no one knew about, then punishing him the moment of that trial was a truly terrible decision and even worse timing.

But if Shockwave was sentenced for helping monsters...Prowl isn't sure why his mind resists the idea.

Maybe he's not being objective because he shares Orion's views and aspirations.

Maybe because he has looked at the entire square filled with dangerous monsters and has seen nothing but sorrow and respect in them.

The idea comes naturally.

Then God must be wrong.

He looks at the cleaning golems again. He envies them.

They are peace and contentment.

They are a clear and simple goal.

Probably the biggest stress that happens to them is random mechs passing by and interfering with their cleaning.

And then there's Prowl, standing by with no meaning or purpose and wishing he could throw something heavy because the one who gets in his way is an indefinable force of nature and a complex system of values and beliefs created by millions of years of cultural development....

But Primus can't stop him, can he?

Prowl is not alive. He has no emotion so that his intentions can be categorized as evil, but more importantly he has no spark so that its magic can turn him into a demon.

He is his purpose. His purpose is his god. And Primus stands in his way.

He turns around and walks away.

#maccadam #transformers #tf mimics au #prowl #Prowl’s beef with God #Orion pax #shockwave #senator shockwave #Ratchet #Skids #Oh no Prowler #Orion doesn’t want you around right now #go find someone else 👁#I’m done with Prowl’s backstory. Now you know how he thinks so #when you see him being weird later you will know exactly what is wrong with him haha #also eheheh. the great hunt lore #the reason there was almost no foxes in Ratchets part of the story #I have a lot of thoughts about religion and all the ways it fucks people up

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seitmai · 3 days ago

Text

So many thoughts

He was gripping the steering wheel of the blue Bronco, and you waited silently for the engine to start. But it didn't. He barely moved. And you barely moved. But you couldn't step away from the window even as the light inside the Bronco faded into the night. Everything was silent. Your pounding heartbeat was all you could hear as the baby squirmed around in your belly like she knew her father was too far away from her now. Minutes passed, and you sank down onto the couch, but Bradley never started the engine.

I can't 😭

Your emotions were a mess as you eventually left the couch to get ready for bed. After you checked on Rose, finding her sound asleep in her crib without a care in the world, you peeked outside one more time. Bradley was still in the driveway, watching over the Craftsman and everything inside. You took your broken heart to bed, trying your best to fall asleep through your tears.

And I am trying to read through my tears 🥲

It was cold outside this late in October, but Bradley sucked it up. He was certain you knew he was still sitting in the driveway, and he didn't want to start the engine at three in the morning and startle you. Or make you think he was leaving. He wasn't going anywhere. So he let the cold surround him. Maybe you didn't want him in the house with you and Rose at the moment, but it was his responsibility to protect his family.

I respect that

Between small spurts of sleep, his mind drifted to the idea of you and Rose packing up everything in the house and moving across the country to live with your parents. It left him on the verge of panic each time. He bought the house for you. He had a family because of you. He was living beyond his wildest dreams married to you.

I just wanna give him a hug 🫂

There was no way to convince you he wasn't lying. There was nothing he could say at this point that wouldn't sound like he was trying to cover his own ass. You could talk to Mav or Nat or Jake until they were blue in the face, but if you didn't trust him, it would sound like everyone was covering for him. Because truthfully, only he and Lieutenant Jeffries knew for sure that Bradley had never touched her.

Unfortunately this is very true..

I'm leaving for work. If you want to talk, come find me, and I'll clear my schedule. We'll figure this out. We have to, because I can't live without you. I love you.

🥺🥺🥺

His stomach growled as he drove, reminding him he didn't get to enjoy what you cooked for dinner last night. He'd been missing dinner too often. It was almost Halloween, and the two of you should have been planning a costume for Rose to wear. He should have been working on an anniversary getaway for November. He'd been fucking up a lot for someone who wasn't aware he was doing it, but he certainly wasn't an adulterer.

I'm glad though that this serves as a reminder that he hast to get his husband and dad duties back in order☝🏻

Once again, he thought about you throwing all your fancy kitchen gadgets in a box and leaving without a backward glance in his direction. Bradley's hands shook, and he didn't know how he'd make it through the day at this rate.

I really hope for everyone's safety he is not going in the air today 🥴

The walk to his office was long, but not long enough for inspiration to strike. Maybe Nat could give him some advice. She'd been harping on about girl code the other day. As much as he hated to admit it, Jake might be a helpful ally right now. He was a big fan of yours, and always quick to remind Bradley he'd married way out of his league.

Yeah let's round the troops, because he won't get out of this alone when he didn't even realize his fuck up on his own 🫣

This was all exhausting. Nausea and fatigue waged war in his body as Bradley stumbled to his feet once again.

Not to be petty, but I'm glad he gets a taste of his own medicine with BG and her pregnancy symptoms 🤷🏻‍♀️

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, fingers wrapping around the bottle so aggressively, he was afraid it would explode in his hand. He'd been told to keep his distance for now, but clearly Indigo was none the wiser as she followed him right inside his office.

This bitch 😤

Indigo froze before bursting into delighted laughter that set his teeth on edge. "Ruin your life? I can assure you, Sir, I would like nothing more than to have a very good time with you." Any warmth remaining in Bradley's body vanished, leaving him sweaty and shivering. "That's not appropriate," he gasped. "You're reporting to me through Top Gun, and I'm married."

STAND 👏🏻 YOUR 👏🏻GROUND👏🏻ROOSTER👏🏻

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "This was a lot easier last time." "You've done this before?" Bradley asked, eyes darting to the door and empty hallway beyond, wishing he'd just gone to your office instead.

No fucking way!! But I mean with her behavior this should not surprise me 🤦🏻‍♀️🥴

"I like older men," Indigo replied sweetly. "Ones with lots of pins on their uniforms. And they've always been agreeable before."

Dont get me wrong, I think this is absolutely vile behavior, especially directly to BG, but she is just using the rules that always held women especially in male dominated field back and plays it with her own rules, so I kinda get it were she's coming from.. it's like the "women in male field" trend in a way, in a very morally fucked up way 😅🙈

"Are you out of your mind?" Bradley's voice shook, but it was loud enough that she froze again. "You think I would jeopardize my marriage for you? My family? The thought never crossed my mind!" Indigo licked her lips. "I've seen your wife. She's pregnant again. And she's -" "She's perfect," Bradley barked, eyes blazing as he glanced at the wedding photo. "Do not talk about her. Ever." He squeezed his eyes closed and squared his shoulders before glaring at Indigo. "Get the fuck out of my office."

Halleluja 👏🏻🙏🏻

Why were you in his office? You were crying, working your hands in front of your pregnant belly as you whispered, "I'm sorry, Bradley!"

Omg this is perfect!

When he held his arms open, you rushed into them, burying your face in his chest as you wailed. He had no idea why you were in his office, but if the end result was getting to hold you tight, he didn't need a reason. As soon as you touched him, he immediately felt better.

🥹🥹🥹

"No. It's not okay," came your immediate, muffled response, arms tightening around him. "I made you sleep outside. I told you I'd leave with the girls." You looked up at him, tears brimming from your eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you." Bradley shook his head, bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek. "I'm sorry I put you through this shit. This is so fucked up."

Ahh finally, I feel like I can breathe again😅

Bradley kissed your quivering lips as you started to calm down. "Please never leave me. I'm not going to stop being in love with you. Okay? I just want my girls." With one more kiss, he whispered, "And there's nothing wrong with the way you look. You're perfect." The smallest smile found your lips. "That's what you told Indigo."

Yes he did 👏🏻😌

"I hate her." "Me, too," he sighed, exhausted from thinking about Indigo.

Me, three

He let his breathing match yours, falling into a comfortable rhythm that he didn't want to let go of yet. "I have an idea. Let's go home." "Home?" "Yeah. Let's go get Rose from the nursery and ditch the rest of the day. I just want to go home." Now you were the one running your hand along his scarred cheek. "You must be exhausted." When he nodded, you said, "Okay. Let's go home, and I'll take care of you." When you tried to pull away, Bradley kept you close. "No. I'm going to take care of you. I clearly haven't been doing enough of that since I started this position. So that's going to change immediately." "We can take care of each other," you replied easily, but you were smiling.

🥰🥰🥰

You laced your fingers with his and started to tug him toward the door. "To get the ball rolling on Indigo's spectacular downfall." "What?" Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "I just inadvertently managed to clear my name, and you already formulated a plan?" You waved your free hand in the air. "It's like half a plan at best, but it's coming together."

Iconic 👏🏻 😂

Bradley made sure the door locked behind him. "I am in awe of you," he murmured, letting you lead him down the hallway. "Nobody messes with my husband."

And BG takes that promise seriously ☝🏻

You smiled to yourself. "I want to start doing it sooner." "Sooner?" she asked, confused. "How much sooner?" "Tomorrow."

Aim for the Sky Part 35 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're conflicted by your own words, unsure if you can stay away from your husband. There's only one person who can tell you the truth about Bradley, but she's the same one who seems to be on a quest to ruin your life.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, mentions of cheating

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Tramp whimpered at your feet. The muffled sound of the Bronco's door closing sent you to the front window to look out onto the driveway. It was dark, but you could see Bradley's tear-streaked face lit up by the dome light as you choked on a sob. It took everything you had to stand there instead of running to him.

You wanted him to come back inside, but you just told him you wouldn't hesitate to take the kids and move back to Maryland with your parents. "What did you do?" you gasped as fresh tears filled your eyes. You couldn't tell if you were being strong or stupid or some combination of the two, but the longer you stared out the window, the more you realized Bradley wasn't leaving you even though you told him to.

Relief washed over you knowing he wasn't running off to Indigo. Maybe there was a way to salvage things. You couldn't take back what you said, and he couldn't take back anything he'd already done with her, but you didn't think you could stop loving him. You didn't think you could separate him from his daughters.

You took your broken heart to bed, trying your best to fall asleep through your tears.

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

Maybe you didn't want him in the house with you and Rose at the moment, but it was his responsibility to protect his family. And he wanted to be as close as you'd let him. Between small spurts of sleep, his mind drifted to the idea of you and Rose packing up everything in the house and moving across the country to live with your parents. It left him on the verge of panic each time. He bought the house for you. He had a family because of you. He was living beyond his wildest dreams married to you.

Everything with the Navy took time. Mav was a big help, but a report would need to be written up for formal action. And now Bradley would need to notify someone about the new message Indigo sent with the world's worst timing, but meanwhile he was supposed to carry on like everything was completely normal.

As soon as daylight broke, he rubbed his exhaustion away from his eyes. He wanted to get to base to shower and change into the clean flight suit he kept in his locker, but he had to make sure you knew he spent the whole night in the Bronco first. So Bradley waited until he saw movement inside. Just a quick flick of the living room curtain, but he was sure you saw him. Nevertheless, he sent a text.

I'm leaving for work. If you want to talk, come find me, and I'll clear my schedule. We'll figure this out. We have to, because I can't live without you. I love you.

He didn't expect you to respond right away. He stretched, his body positively aching from sitting in one spot for so long before he started the engine. His stomach growled as he drove, reminding him he didn't get to enjoy what you cooked for dinner last night. He'd been missing dinner too often. It was almost Halloween, and the two of you should have been planning a costume for Rose to wear. He should have been working on an anniversary getaway for November. He'd been fucking up a lot for someone who wasn't aware he was doing it, but he certainly wasn't an adulterer.

The locker room was empty as he changed out of his wrinkly uniform and slipped under the hot shower stream. Nothing was going to make him feel better if you didn't trust him. Once again, he thought about you throwing all your fancy kitchen gadgets in a box and leaving without a backward glance in his direction. Bradley's hands shook, and he didn't know how he'd make it through the day at this rate.

As he pulled on his flight suit, he thought about going up to your office to wait for you to arrive. But he'd end up on his knees again, begging you to stay with him, and that wasn't what you needed to hear right now. He was exhausted, but he tried to clear his mind and think of some way to convince you he would never do anything to hurt you. But if Indigo already made comments directly to you, it felt like all hope was lost.

He settled in behind his desk, unable to look away from the wedding photo for a few minutes. You looked perfect that day. You were perfect every day. There was no doubt you'd be perfect without him, but he didn't want you going anywhere unless you took him, too.

"Fuck," Bradley gasped, lungs burning with the effort to hold back his tears. His students would be sitting down to take a practicum exam shortly. He didn't necessarily need to be there, but it would look good if he was. But he'd also have to face Indigo in the classroom. Maverick was still up in Lemoore, and he was the only one who knew Bradley filed a formal complaint.

This was all exhausting. Nausea and fatigue waged war in his body as Bradley stumbled to his feet once again. He needed something to drink. Some cold water. He threw his office door open wide and walked back up the hallway to the small lounge where he grabbed a water bottle and downed it in one go. Panting, he took a second one before slowly heading back the way he came.

He didn't even feel better as he started sweating profusely. He wanted you. He wanted you to let him hold you. He wanted to kiss Rose.

His office door was just a few feet away when he heard her voice.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw."

"Sir," she said, voice bold and unbothered. "I thought we could walk to the classroom together."

Bradley spun and looked at her. He really shouldn't be surprised at this point. He also shouldn't be talking to her alone in his office, but she was standing there expectantly, blinking those eyes up at him.

"Unless you're not ready to head over yet...."

Her words trailed off as she casually reached for the door, fingers grazing the wood.

"Do not close that door," Bradley barked, surprising himself with his angry tone. Indigo's hand dropped to her side, eyes wide, but she took a step closer as he backed up until he hit his desk. He managed to set the water bottle down, chest rising and falling rapidly. He shouldn't be talking to her, but he couldn't help himself as he shook his head. "What is your problem?"

She cocked her head slightly, a hesitant smile on her lips. "Sir?"

Bradley skirted along past his desk as she tracked him. "I don't understand why you're trying to ruin my life," he hissed.

Indigo froze before bursting into delighted laughter that set his teeth on edge. "Ruin your life? I can assure you, Sir, I would like nothing more than to have a very good time with you."

Any warmth remaining in Bradley's body vanished, leaving him sweaty and shivering. "That's not appropriate," he gasped. "You're reporting to me through Top Gun, and I'm married."

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "This was a lot easier last time."

"You've done this before?" Bradley asked, eyes darting to the door and empty hallway beyond, wishing he'd just gone to your office instead.

"I like older men," Indigo replied sweetly. "Ones with lots of pins on their uniforms. And they've always been agreeable before."

"Unbelievable," Bradley groaned, ready to throw away all of his insignia pins and run away. "Lieutenant Jeffries, I have never laid a finger on you. We've never been alone in here with the door closed, ever."

"But you wanted to. You can admit it," she whispered, reaching once more for the door.

"Are you out of your mind?" Bradley's voice shook, but it was loud enough that she froze again. "You think I would jeopardize my marriage for you? My family? The thought never crossed my mind!"

Indigo licked her lips. "I've seen your wife. She's pregnant again. And she's -"

"She's perfect," Bradley barked, eyes blazing as he glanced at the wedding photo. "Do not talk about her. Ever." He squeezed his eyes closed and squared his shoulders before glaring at Indigo. "Get the fuck out of my office."

He was afraid she wasn't going to listen, the way she stood there and stared at him in surprise. But Bradley had nothing left. His fingers were shaking, and he was sure he was going to vomit. She finally turned and marched from the room with her chin in the air, and Bradley turned to face his desk.

Panic like he never felt before filled his veins. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now as he gripped the edge of his desk and stared down at his boots. His body shook with silent sobs as he tried to catch his breath, but his brain couldn't seem to get past the fact that his life was in absolute ruins.

"Oh, God," he gasped, lifting his head in time to see his office door move a few inches. Before he could fully register what was happening, you popped out from behind it and carefully pushed it closed.

"Sweetheart?" he croaked, examining your tear-streaked cheeks before you stumbled closer to him.

Why were you in his office? You were crying, working your hands in front of your pregnant belly as you whispered, "I'm sorry, Bradley!"

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," you sobbed over and over, body shaking against him. "I was so scared, and I look so awful right now. And I'm just so sorry!"

"Shhh," he coaxed softly, kissing the top of your head before letting his chin rest there. "It's okay."

Bradley shook his head, bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek. "I'm sorry I put you through this shit. This is so fucked up."

He let you cry, wiping your tears with his thumb as they fell for the longest time. He already felt like he could figure out a way to fix everything as long as you still wanted him.

The smallest smile found your lips. "That's what you told Indigo."

"Baby Girl, that's what I tell everybody," he promised, relieved beyond belief that you witness that miserable exchange. "What are you doing here anyway?" he whispered, keeping you snug against him as you looked up at his face. "Not that I'm complaining, but I wasn't expecting you to want to see me."

"I came to talk to you as soon as I dropped Rose off." You wiped your tears on his flight suit as you added, "When I got here, the door was wide open, so I came inside. Then I heard her voice in the hallway. I panicked and hid behind the door."

"And I couldn't be happier that you did," he whispered.

"She really wanted to close the door."

"She really did."

"I hate her."

"Me, too," he sighed, exhausted from thinking about Indigo. He let his breathing match yours, falling into a comfortable rhythm that he didn't want to let go of yet. "I have an idea. Let's go home."

"Home?"

"Yeah. Let's go get Rose from the nursery and ditch the rest of the day. I just want to go home."

Now you were the one running your hand along his scarred cheek. "You must be exhausted." When he nodded, you said, "Okay. Let's go home, and I'll take care of you."

When you tried to pull away, Bradley kept you close. "No. I'm going to take care of you. I clearly haven't been doing enough of that since I started this position. So that's going to change immediately."

"We can take care of each other," you replied easily, but you were smiling. "I just need to talk to Cat first."

Bradley groaned softly. He was already imagining the three of you at home. He would make lunch while you fed Rose, and then everyone could take a long nap. He just wanted everything to feel normal again.

"Why do you need Cat first?"

You laced your fingers with his and started to tug him toward the door. "To get the ball rolling on Indigo's spectacular downfall."

"What?" Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "I just inadvertently managed to clear my name, and you already formulated a plan?"

You waved your free hand in the air. "It's like half a plan at best, but it's coming together." You paused. "You know what? I'll just call Cat when we get home. I'm sure we can handle it from there. I really want to snuggle with you, and I'm starving."

Bradley made sure the door locked behind him. "I am in awe of you," he murmured, letting you lead him down the hallway.

"Nobody messes with my husband."

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

You felt alive again for the first time in weeks. You were thriving. Bradley never let you out of his sight as he made lunch and burped Rose. He put her down in her crib, wrapped you in his arms, and led you toward the promise of an afternoon nap.

"Wait, Cat's calling me back," you whispered, watching his face fall as he tried to get you to the bedroom. "It'll just take a minute."

"I can barely keep my eyes open," he murmured, kissing your cheek before you backed away. "Just come in when you're done."

You watched him turn to the bedroom, pulling his undershirt over his head as he went. The temptation of his warm body wrapped around yours was almost too much to fight, but when you thought about Indigo, you wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Or her face.

"Hi."

"Where are you?" Cat asked. "I thought I saw you in the parking lot this morning, and now you're magically nowhere to be found."

"I'm at home," you told her quickly. "Hey, how close are you to finishing the new code for the Super Hornet updates?"

There was a beat of silence. "Not that close. We aren't rolling out the updates until the end of the year. It'll ground some of the pilots."

You smiled to yourself. "I want to start doing it sooner."

"Sooner?" she asked, confused. "How much sooner?"

"Tomorrow."

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

Hearing that straight from Indigo had to make BG feel so much better! Is this me being nicer? Beginning to mend things? Stay tuned.

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all4yoi · 6 hours ago

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𝒯he 𝒟addy 𝒟iaries

!? . . ★ 𝓕inding 𝓞ut — the moment they find out you're pregnant and how they react.

➹ enhypen hyungline x fem!reader ✦ cw: pregnancy, suggestive themes (sex mentioned), crying, slight angst, fluff, cringe cringe PLSS IDK let me redeem myself to the upcoming prompts.. not proofread!!

✦ taglist: open! send an ask — SERIES MASTERLIST

LEE HEESEUNG

It was practically like a tradition ever since you married Heeseung, that you would take a pregnancy test every month. It's not like you two were trying really hard to have a baby, if it turns out negative then that's that, and if it's positive, then..

Actually the thought of being pregnant was starting to be impossible for you. It has been 8 months since you've been married and all those tests turned negative. So, now that you look at the test with two lines, you stand in shock.

"Baby? You've been in there for a while." Your husband's voice comes from the other side of the closed bathroom door. Taking the test in your hand, you open the door to be met with Heeseung's towering figure.

He looks at you in confusion, his gaze averting from your face to the test on your hands. His eyes widens a bit, shakily taking the test from you. When he sees the two lines, he lets out a happy laugh, embracing you.

"You're pregnant?!" He exclaims in joy, pulling away but keeping you close. You nod with a smile as small happy tears form in your tear ducts. "Oh baby, I love you so much. Thank you." Heeseung says with a crack, his own tears flowing down his cheeks.

PARK JONGSEONG

"I think we should go see a doctor, baby." Jay says in worry as he rubs your back while you're hunched over the toilet and pour your guts out. You shake your head, wiping your mouth as you sit back up.

"I think it's the chicken last night we ordered." You say weakly and openly welcome Jay's embrace.

"If it were, then I'd be pouring my guts out every morning too baby." He sighs, helping you up your feet and helping you in brushing your teeth. "I'm texting Dr. Choi right now, go change okay? I'm getting you checked." Jay kissed your temple before exiting the bathroom, leaving no room for arguments.

The drive to the hospital was quiet, you still weren't feeling good and Jay was too worried to disturb your moment of peace.

"Sorry for the question, but are you two sexually active?" Dr. Choi asked. You look confused but nod nonetheless. "Yes, but it has been weeks since we last had sex."

Dr. Choi nods, "I see, in the urine sample we tested, it detected hCG which means you're pregnant for 6 weeks Mrs. Park. We can discuss your next steps when you're ready."

You exhale heavily, looking up at Jay who was beside you.

"Jay.." said man embraces you gently, nodding at the doctor who now left the room. "We can do whatever you want baby, choice is all yours. I love you no matter what your decision will be."

SIM JAEYUN

"This is ridiculous." You mutter as you wait for the pregnancy test. Currently, your girl friends were over at your apartment for a girls night out and they decided it was a fun idea to have you use the pregnancy test that Ningning found in her older sister's drawer.

When your phone alarms signaling the end of the 5 minutes, you flip the pregnancy test without a care, but the words "Pregnant" on it makes you freeze.

Ningning and Karina bursts inside the bathroom after hearing the alarm but their smiles drop as soon as they see your red eyes. "Y/N.."

You shook your head, fisting your hair in your hands. "No, my parents will kill me. Jake can't know." You cry and your friends embrace you.

"Atleast let Jake know.. he deserves to know too you know?" Karina mutters, brushing the strands of your hair out of your face. "No, no.." You cry harder.

You were too busy crying and your friends comforting you that no one noticed the footsteps coming in the room.

"Hey, what's happening?" Jake's voice makes your sobs halt.

"Um, we'll uh, we'll leave you two to talk." Ningning says as she pats your back before leaving the room with Karina.

Jake's brows furrows at your state before he approaches you slowly, bringing you to his chest and resting his cheek on the top of your head. "Shh, you're fine now. What happened while I was gone, lovely?"

Your silence worries him even more but when his gaze averts to the sink counter and sees the pregnancy test, he squeezes you tighter. His own tears forming on his eyes.

"I got you, 'm not going anywhere. Shh."

PARK SUNGHOON

"Whatever it shows, you know I'll still love you right?" Sunghoon whispers as he gazes at you with full of love. You and Sunghoon have been married for 2 years now and have been trying for a baby for almost a year.

All tests turned negative and you were starting to think that you were the problem. You promised yourself that if this test turns negative once more, you'll finally visit the doctor for tests.

"You turn it." You shakily whisper, keeping yourself buried on your husband's bare chest. Sunghoon does as he's told and turns the test around with shaking fingers. The sight of two lines makes him breath out shakily.

"Oh my God, baby." He says as he hugs you tight, tears flowing down and wetting your shoulder. His reaction tells you everything and you laugh in joy while your own tears cascades down your cheeks.

Sunghoon kisses you, pouring all his love in the kiss while your tears mixes with his. When he pulls away, he keeps your foreheads connected, his lips pulled in a big smile.

"I love you, we did it baby."

taglist! ( bold can't be tagged )— @stawberri @saphiranishimurashan @strxwbloody @heesexual74 @jooniesbears-blog @ayablogsblog @teddybeartaetae @gandaengene @snowprincehoon

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scary-grace · 3 days ago

Text

Bloody Valentine - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

When you get to school on Valentine's Day, your biggest worry is how you're going to give chocolate to your lab partner and crush, Shigaraki Tomura, without him knowing that it was you, and when it all goes wrong, you can't imagine how your day could possibly get worse. But when a plague of zombies erupts within the halls of UA High and the evacuation leaves you behind, you find yourself trapped with Shigaraki, both of you left behind. You've been forgotten. There's no help coming. Forget being each other's valentines - now you're each other's only chance to get out of this alive. (cross-posted to Ao3) dividers by @kodaswrld

Chapter 1

You slink through the aisles at the convenience store, blinking sleep out of your eyes and wishing you’d gone to bed earlier last night. You knew what kind of day today was going to be, because it’s the same kind of day you have every day – busy. Rehearsal in the morning, before school starts, team practice as soon as the final bell rings, and in between, the heaviest class schedule it’s possible to take while still reserving at least a few hours to sleep. You should have gone to bed earlier. A lot earlier.

But you didn’t, because you never do, and now you’re here, buying Valentine’s Day chocolate on five hours of sleep. You know you should have made the chocolates by hand, like you did for your friends. It’s something you’re going to have to explain, if the person you’re planning to give the convenience-store chocolate to figures out it’s from you and asks why you cheaped out on him. You’ll have to think of something to say. In the meantime, you pick out the package with the least-ostentatious wrapping and the fewest fruit flavors and make your way to the cash register.

You aren’t the only person in line who waited until the last minute. The woman in front of you is balancing a tower of boxes of the most expensive chocolate the convenience store offers, and the girl behind you in a middle-school uniform is holding a tiny box with an enormous bow on top of it. The cashier’s a woman, too. She doesn’t question the woman ahead of you in line, but when you step up to pay, she looks you up and down with a sly smile on her face. “Who’s this for?”

Your face burns red. You haven’t admitted this out loud to anybody yet, but you have to start somewhere. “My lab partner.”

She chuckles and checks you out, and you wander off to one side, trying to store your loose change and hide the chocolate in your backpack at the same time. You overhear the conversation the cashier has with the middle-schooler. “Sorry. You don’t have quite enough for that one.”

“But it’s the smallest one!” the girl protests. She’s barely old enough to be in middle-school – not more than thirteen. “I looked at the price –”

“Sales tax,” the cashier says. You wince. “Go on. There are people waiting behind you.”

You hear the girl sniffle, and you still haven’t stored your change. You step back up to the counter and slide the coins across it, back to the cashier. “That’s enough, right?”

The cashier nods. You pick up the small box and hand it back to the girl, ushering her outside into a cold, mostly-dark February morning. “Thanks,” she says to you, but her mouth’s still turned down. “He’s my best friend, but all the girls like him – he’s going to get so much and mine’s so small –”

“Write something to go with it,” you suggest. “If you put a note on it it’ll at least look different from the others.”

“Is that what you’re going to do?”

You’re going to stealth-mode the chocolate into his locker and hope he guesses it’s from you – or at least hope that he doesn’t think it’s from somebody else. But you haven’t put much thought into it, and this girl’s best friend is probably a far cry from your lab partner, who’s capable of exuding an aura so grumpy and malevolent that first-years have been known to leave the building to get away from him. “Yeah,” you say, feeling only a little guilty. “Good luck with yours.”

“You, too,” she says. She heads for the metro stop; you store your chocolate away at long last, wrap your scarf a little more tightly around your neck, and start the walk to school.

UA High isn’t for everybody. It’s academically rigorous, to the point where the kids taking remedial classes there could still run circles around the advanced students from any other school, and it’s got so many class and extracurricular offerings that it could almost pass for a university. It’s prestigious to the max, and it’s also really expensive. Students who go there come from rich families, or else they’re on scholarship, their grades and participation reviewed at the end of every term to see if the scholarship will be renewed.

Nobody ever comes out and says which one they are, but it’s pretty easy to tell. Rich kids have class schedules that wouldn’t be out of place at a normal high school. Scholarship kids have schedules like yours. A schedule which begins bright and early at seven am with rehearsal for the school play. This year, it’s Romeo and Juliet, performed pop-opera style – next to no spoken dialogue, almost every piece of dialogue sung. The drama club doesn’t have enough good singers to make it work, so they pressed the choir into service. That’s where you come in. You’re not a good actor or the best singer, but your voice isn’t objectionable and you don’t make a lot of mistakes. That’s enough to earn you a part in the chorus.

And enough to make you an understudy – and the girl who plays Juliet is out sick, which means you’re stuck holding hands with Amajiki Tamaki as the director tries for the billionth time to coax some life into his performance. “Come on, Amajiki! This is a girl you’re holding hands with. The most beautiful girl in the world.”

Amajiki frowns. “I thought Rosalind was the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“That was last week,” Yamada-sensei says. You try not to laugh. “This week it’s all about Juliet, and unlike Rosalind, Juliet likes you. Get hyped! Okay, let’s take it from the top –”

Yaoyorozu starts playing the introductory notes of the song. Amajiki looks directly down at your joined hands and starts singing to them. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss –”

He’s on-key, which is a big deal for drama club kids, but just as wooden as ever. Off to one side, you see Yamada-sensei shaking his head. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,” you sing. Your performance is probably at least as wooden as Amajiki’s, but you’re not supposed to be here, anyway. “Which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands which pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

“Cut,” Yamada-sensei announces. “You’re killing me, Amajiki. Look at her for a second while you’re singing it. Chemistry is all about eye contact.”

“They don’t have chemistry,” Monoma, who plays Tybalt, announces from off to the side. “He and Kenranzaki have chemistry.”

That chemistry is probably the result of Amajiki being terrified of Kenranzaki, just like every other guy at school, but at least some sparks are flying onstage when they’re together. You’re not even sure how Amajiki ended up in the play when he’s got the worst case of stage fright you’ve ever seen. His hands are really sweaty. “Pretend it’s not me,” you suggest. “Pretend I’m the person you like, if you like anybody.”

“There’s an idea,” Yamada-sensei says. Amajiki’s face turns bright red. “Ooh, there it is! We’ve got something. Let’s move.”

“You have to do it too,” Amajiki says to you. “Pretend I’m someone you like. If you like anybody.”

“Fine,” you say. If Amajiki gets a good run-through, you get to go wash your hands. The piano playing starts, and you give it your best shot.

Your plan was to picture an actor, somebody cute but distant, but instead your lab partner pops into your head. Your face goes instantly flushed, probably even more obviously than Amajiki’s, because if you confessed your feelings to Shigaraki Tomura by singing them, he’d laugh you out of the school. If he were the one standing across from you right now, you’d be cringing in despair, knowing for a fact you’d already blown your chances, trying to enjoy the few seconds of holding his hands you got before he yanked them away. You definitely wouldn’t feel like singing about it.

Still, you get through your first lines, and manage to hold Amajiki’s gaze during his response. Saints and palmers have lips, et cetera – and then it’s your turn. “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer –”

“O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do,” Amajiki says. His eye contact is a little too direct, a lot too earnest. Now you’re really uncomfortable. “They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

“Okay, that’s good enough for now. We don’t want Romeo to faint,” Yamada-sensei says. “That was a lot better, Amajiki. I could tell you were feeling – something. Go get some water. And you –”

He points at you. You cringe. “Stay put,” Yamada-san instructs. “Count Paris, you’re up. We’ve got some back and forth we need to run.”

Tetsutetsu, the first-year who plays Paris, hops up from his seat and comes to stand on the makeshift stage. All you can do is hope his hands aren’t too sweaty.

You stagger out of the rehearsal space at eight-thirty, desperate for a place to wash your hands, and Nejire, who was waiting for you outside, follows you into the bathroom. “I got a Snapchat,” she sings out, brandishing her phone while you run water over your hands. “You and Amajiki sound so good!”

Your heart sinks. “Somebody filmed it?”

“Just on Snapchat! It’s not a story or anything,” Nejire says. “Amajiki’s so cute when he’s blushing!”

“He looks like he wants to die,” you mumble. “How did he end up in the play, anyway?”

“He failed English last term.” Nejire lowers her voice. Amajiki’s a scholarship student, just like you, and you know what failing a class means. “Yamada-sensei convinced the principal not to kick him out as long as he made it up somehow, and since he can sing, being in the play is the best way.”

If it came down to being kicked out of UA or doing some extracurricular activity you really hated, you’d pick the latter without blinking. Nejire replays the Snapchat again while you dry your hands. “How come you were up there? I thought Kenranzaki was the lead?”

“She is,” you say. “She wasn’t here this morning. It was weird – she never misses rehearsals, and she didn’t even text.”

“People were missing from dance practice, too,” Nejire says, frowning. “Kodai and Hagakure didn’t text, either.”

“Maybe something’s going around,” you say. Whatever it is, you hope you don’t get it. You have too much to do. You dry your hands and straighten up. “Come on. I brought you chocolate and I don’t want to give it to you in the bathroom.”

Nejire has chocolate for you, too. She bought chocolate rather than made it, and because she’s not on scholarship, she can afford the really good stuff. You feel awkward handing over your homemade chocolates, but Nejire exclaims over them anyway. You know she’s sincere, because she can’t fake anything for more than a few seconds. “I bet we’re giving them to all the same people,” she says, beaming. “We still have a few minutes. Let’s go hand them out together!”

Your homemade chocolates look like nothing compared to Nejire’s expensive ones, but you’re not friends with your friends for no reason. They compliment Nejire’s generosity and your hard work, and hand chocolate back to you with enthusiasm. You manage to pass your chocolates out to three of your friends before homeroom – Keiko, Saki, and Hinata, girls you’ve known since your first day. The rest you’ll have to get on the run.

Other than homeroom, most of UA High’s classes are sorted by ability rather than by year, which means you’ve had the chance to make friends with second-years and first-years, too. Kyoka is a first-year, but she stands next to you in first-period chorus, so you’ve talked to her almost every day since the start of the year. She gets a box of chocolates. So does Camie in second period advanced calculus, even though she thinks you’re sort of boring and you think she’s kind of an airhead. You helped each other study for your final exams last term. You owe her.

You don’t sit next to any of your friends in third-period English class, but someone in that class is on the climbing team with you. You aren’t close enough to give him chocolate, but you’re friendly enough to say good morning. Spinner returns your greeting, but he’s looking apprehensively at your gear bag. “Wait, were we top-roping today? I forgot all my shit.”

“Coach will probably change it to bouldering if you ask her,” you say. Spinner’s the best climber on the team by a mile, but he’s not the most motivated, and Coach Usagiyama will do just about anything to keep him interested. “If not, I’ve got a spare harness in here.”

“Thanks.” Spinner breathes a sigh of relief. Or yawns. “If it wasn’t movie day in here I’d be screwed. I need a nap.”

“Same,” you admit. “Do you know which –”

“Ladies and those of you who are not ladies, take your seats!” Yamada-sensei booms as he slams the door of the classroom shut behind him, and you scurry back to your seat. Yamada-sensei skids in for a landing in front of the blackboard and switches to English. “I only have one question for you this fine movie day – rom-com or action?”

You vote action, and so does Spinner, but it’s Valentine’s Day and advanced English is mostly girls, so of course you lose. As the vote’s happening, though, you realize just how many people are missing from class today. Kenranzaki from the drama club, two people from Nejire’s dance team, and at least three from English class. Something must be going around. As the bell rings to signal the end of the class period, a terrible thought occurs to you. So many people are absent. What if Shigaraki’s absent, too?

Spinner would know. They’re friends. You stop by his desk as he’s waking up from his nap. “Hey,” you start, “do you know if Shigaraki’s here today? We’re starting a new experiment in chem lab, and –”

“He’s here. I saw him this morning,” Spinner says. “He’s probably going to be late, though. He’s late to everything.”

That gives you time to drop the chocolate on his desk, if you hurry. The thought makes you nervous. Spinner notices. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll text him and tell him to hurry up.”

“No, don’t –” you start, but Spinner’s already got his phone out. You’re running out of time. You mumble an insincere thank-you to Spinner and book it to the lab, trying not to think about how Shigaraki will respond to the idea of you – you, through Spinner – bossing him around.

You get to chem lab first, ahead of everyone – all your classmates and Sasaki-sensei, too. You tuck your belongings under the bench you share with Shigaraki, pull the chocolate out of your backpack, and set it down on his side of the bench. Done. Your heart is racing, and he’s not even here yet – and once he does, he won’t even know it’s from you. Your high school experience hasn’t been a dream by any means, but this might just be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

It would be different if you had a crush on a nice guy, but Shigaraki Tomura isn’t a nice guy. He’s older than you, courtesy of being held back a year sometime in middle school, and while he has friends, every last one of them except Spinner has a reputation just like his. When you were paired up with him for chem lab at the beginning of the year, most people felt sorry for you, and they said so. But you were determined to make the best of it, not to get off on the wrong foot, and so you were friendly. It took two months for him to start being friendly back. For a given value of friendly.

He makes fun of you for being such an overachiever, such a perfectionist – but never for being here on scholarship. The first time he complimented you, it was vague and almost backhanded, but it had your heart racing for the rest of the period. When you finally swapped phone numbers, it took you three days to work up the courage to text him first. Sometimes Shigaraki leaves you hanging, but if you catch him at the right moment – usually at night, when both of you should be sleeping – you can draw him into a conversation. And he’s different than anybody else you know.

You know you’re a cliché, the stereotype of a good girl with a crush on the dictionary definition of a bad guy. But you don’t think that’s why you like him. You just – like him. And you remember something he said a while ago, when the two of you were complaining about couples hanging out in the hallways and blocking you from getting your shoes back, and he mentioned something about Valentine’s Day being even worse – everybody and their cat gets chocolate, and I just have to look at it. You read between the lines. The idea of bringing him chocolate was in your head way before you admitted you had a crush.

Your classmates trickle into the lab slowly, and once again, you register that there aren’t as many as usual. More than a few benches have an empty seat at one side, but Sasaki-sensei arrives thirty seconds before the bell rings, as usual, and starts taking attendance before the final notes ring out. He has the strictest attendance policy in school, and you watch the door anxiously out of the corner of your eye as you organize your pre-work for today’s lab. Acid-base titration. It should be an easy experiment to run, but not if you’re running it alone.

But you won’t be. A shadow darkens the doorway, then falls across your bench, and Shigaraki Tomura drops down in his seat next to you just as Sasaki-sensei calls his name. He doesn’t hear Sasaki-sensei, though – he has headphones in. You elbow him and he yanks them out, just in time for Sasaki-sensei to repeat himself. “Shigaraki Tomura?”

Shigaraki half-heartedly raises one hand, then lets it drop. Sasaki-sensei addresses the class, all business. “I see multiple absences today. If your partner is missing, pair up with someone whose partner is also missing. As usual, you will not be allowed to begin the experiment until I confirm the completion of your prework, and if you run out of time to complete the lab, you will receive no credit for the day.”

The familiar anxious shooting pains lance through your fingers. You can be as prepared as it’s possible to be, and Sasaki-sensei’s reminder of just how willing he is to fail you always scares you. Next to you, Shigaraki pulls a few crumpled pieces of paper out of his backpack, muttering under his breath. “Half the school’s out sick. He can’t cut us a break?”

You move your papers alongside Shigaraki’s, sorting them to make it easier for Sasaki-sensei to see that you’re both done, and take a risk. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah, I figured. Spinner texted me,” Shigaraki says. You cringe. “This lab’s so scary you can’t do it alone?”

“I could do it alone,” you say, stung. It’s the kind of thing he usually says with a teasing note in his voice, but instead he’s strangely flat. He’s not looking at you. “It’s just weird, with so many people out. Did all your friends make it in today?”

“Everybody but Twice,” Shigaraki says. “He can’t shut up when he’s sick, usually – we all get a newsflash every time his body does something disgusting – but this time he hasn’t said a word.”

Kenranzaki didn’t, either. Neither did the girls who were missing from dance team practice. Shigaraki glances at you. “Is that really all it takes to spook you?”

“I didn’t say I was scared. Just that it’s weird,” you say. He’s in a mood today. Is it really just that it’s Valentine’s Day? “Are you feeling okay?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you seem – different – this morning,” you say, stumbling over the words. You thought the two of you were past this. What did you do? “I just wanted to ask. In case there was something –”

“Something you could do?” Shigaraki finishes your sentence. He scoffs. “Nice try. I know what –”

“I certainly hope you do.” Sasaki-sensei looms over the two of you, scooping your prework off the desk. “Shigaraki, your handwriting continues to be atrocious. And you – how many times do I have to ask you to stop writing in 10-pt font? You’re going to strain my eyes.”

“You need better glasses, then, Sensei,” Shigaraki says, almost sneering. That sounds more like him. You can almost fool yourself into thinking he’s defending you. “Our handwriting doesn’t matter. Are we right or wrong?”

Sasaki-sensei glances over your work again. “If I docked points for illegibility, you’d both be on the verge of failing. But your calculations are sound. You may begin.”

You’d be more relieved if Shigaraki wasn’t acting so weird. The two of you start setting out your equipment. “I just wanted to know,” you start, “because I –”

“Shut up,” Shigaraki snaps. You startle. “What the fuck is this?”

It’s the box of chocolates you bought. He scoops it off the desk and brandishes it at you. “This was you, wasn’t it? What is wrong with you?”

“Who said it was me?” You don’t know how to cover up your shock, so you return fire instead. “Whoever it was –”

“I know it was you,” Shigaraki cuts you off.

“How?”

“Because it’s on my desk in fucking chem lab and you’re the only girl in here who talks to me,” Shigaraki says. He drops the box back on the table and shoves it towards you. “Unless you’re going to pretend I’ve got some kind of secret admirer –”

“Maybe you do!” Your voice starts to scale up, and you clench your jaw. You shove the box back across the table towards him. “It could be anybody who left that there. Why are you mad at me?”

“Because it wasn’t anybody. It was you!” An angry flush is crawling from beneath Shigaraki’s collar. He picks up the box of chocolates and drops it on your notebook. “Take this back or I’m throwing it away.”

“Somebody decided to show they like you and you’re throwing it away?” You’re shocked by the acidic note in your own voice, even as you make up your mind to never admit that you were the one who put it there. “You can be mad at me all you want, but you shouldn’t punish them for what you –”

“That’s enough, Station 11,” Sasaki-sensei snaps, from up near the front of the classroom where he’s correcting Yoarashi’s and Togata’s prework. “Focus on your experiment and stop distracting the others.”

This is the wrong class to try to fight with somebody in. You set the box of chocolates down exactly equidistant from you and Shigaraki and start testing the scale you’re supposed to use to weigh your reactants. Sometimes Sasaki-sensei calibrates them wrong on purpose just to throw people off. Next to you, Shigaraki’s sitting still in his seat, visibly seething. His face is still flushed, and when he opens his mouth, it’s to come after you again. “Fuck off with this ‘somebody else’ bullshit,” he says – quieter than before, but not by much. “I know damn well it wasn’t Toga, so that leaves you. You’re the only –”

He breaks off, curses, but you can fill in the rest of the sentence. You and Toga are the only girls he talks to. “And I guess you think this is funny or something, because –”

“Why would I think this is funny?” you hiss.

“Like I’d know. Like I’d ever know what the fuck is going on in your head! I thought –” Shigaraki breaks off again, this time without the cursing, and the look he turns on you is so disdainful that you can barely keep your composure. “You really can act, huh. That nice-girl thing you’ve been putting on since school started. You almost had me fooled.”

Your temper breaks free. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You expect me to believe you’re stupid now?” Shigaraki laughs, so cold and derisive that your eyes sting. “I’m not falling for that one. I’m done almost falling for –”

“Is it really that hard for you to believe that someone might want to be around you?” As much venom as there is in Shigaraki’s voice, you can match it. He might think you’re a nice girl, but you wouldn’t have survived almost three years as a scholarship student at UA if you weren’t tough enough to hold your own with anybody. “I have to tell you, it’s hard for me to believe right now. If this is how you react to some stranger who cares, anybody who wants to be around you must be out of their mind.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you,” you fire back. “Hate yourself as much as you want. I’m not just going to sit here –”

“No, you aren’t.” Sasaki-sensei looms over you, and your heart sinks so far and fast that you feel nauseous. He looks pissed, as pissed as you’ve ever seen him, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. “I warned the two of you once. Not only did you fail to save your lover’s spat until after class, you were both made aware of my policy on profanity at the beginning of the year, and the first-years across the hall could hear the two of you swearing.”

“Sensei –”

“Manners,” Sasaki-sensei snaps, and you fall silent. “To the principal’s office, both of you. And take your belongings. You won’t be coming back here today.”

He’s kicking you out. He won’t let you finish the lab, and if you completely miss a lab, your chemistry grade will plummet. Shigaraki might not care about his grades, but if your grades drop, you’ll be thrown out of UA with a semester left in your third year. “It wasn’t me,” you protest. “Shigaraki started it!”

“Based on what I heard, you were a willing participant,” Sasaki-sensei says. He throws Shigaraki a dirty look, but the vast majority of his disdain is reserved for you. “I expected better of you, at least. Get out.”

Shigaraki’s already packed up his things. He shoves his chair back and it lets out an awful screech as it skids across the tiles, but you’re frozen in your seat. Your heart is racing, and your eyes are starting to prickle and burn. No matter what you do, it feels like the wrong choice – refuse to leave, blame Shigaraki for starting this again, try to make your case? Sasaki-sensei drums his fingers against his forearm, waiting for you, and when you don’t move, he barks at you. “Now.”

Someone giggles, and the sound snaps you out of your paralysis. You whip around to find two of the first-years in third-year chemistry snickering behind their hands – Kaminari and Ashido, who get in trouble for talking every other class, whose grades are worse than yours, who are here on their parents’ money instead of on scholarship. You’re not going to stand here and let a bunch of rich brats laugh at you. You stand up, jam your things back into your backpack, grab the gym bag with your climbing gear, and storm past Shigaraki out the door.

You held it together in class, but now that you’re out in the middle of an empty hall, you’re losing the fight against your tears. At least you are until you hear Shigaraki’s footsteps in the hallway behind you. This is his fault. There’s no way you’re going to let him know how upset you are. You pick up the pace down the hall, then up the stairs, heading for the administrative offices on the second of the school’s five floors.

Shigaraki catches up to you on the stairs. He says something, but you deliberately shift your gear bag, drowning him out with the clatter that results. Then you pick up your pace again. Shigaraki’s legs are longer than yours. He catches up and repeats what he must have said earlier. “Are you happy now?”

You were right to drown him out. You reach the administrative offices ahead of him, but as you reach for the door, it bursts open outwards. Principal Nezu nearly collides with you, and you stammer an apology. It’s as if you’re not even there. Shigaraki, on the other hand, nets a remark from the principal. “If I find out that you’re involved in this, Shigaraki –”

“Involved in what? I got sent here from chem lab.”

“If I find out you’re involved, I’ll personally ensure that you’re sent to prison,” Principal Nezu snaps, and you can’t hold in a shocked gasp. Principal Nezu’s radio crackles, and he raises it to his mouth. “Yes. I’m on my way. Do nothing until I arrive.”

He motors off down the hall, walking even faster than you were. Shigaraki steps past you into the admin offices, and the door closes in your face. You stand there for a moment, stunned. You don’t know what’s going on, what incident Principal Nezu’s referring to, but you can’t imagine what would make the principal say something like that to Shigaraki. You know Shigaraki was in trouble in middle school. Based on the few things he’s said about what it’s like for him at home, you know it isn’t good. And you know that since he started at UA, Shigaraki’s been sent to see the principal for showing up late, for falling asleep in class, for mouthing off to teachers, for throwing a punch after someone else punched him first – but he hasn’t done anything that the other school troublemakers haven’t done, too. You can’t imagine Principal Nezu threatening to send any of them to prison.

It strikes you as really harsh. Almost mean, since whatever incident is going on started while you and Shigaraki were arguing in chem class. But as awful as what the principal said to Shigaraki was, there might be a silver lining for you. If Principal Nezu hates Shigaraki that much, it won’t be hard to convince him that what happened in chem lab was all Shigaraki’s fault.

You feel awful for even thinking it. You open the door to the admin offices and step inside, addressing the first secretary you see. There are twelve of them – with everything that’s going on at UA, Principal Nezu needs all the help he can get. “Sasaki-sensei sent me here to see the principal.”

“Principal Nezu just left,” Secretary Kurose says shortly. She’s always been nice to you before now. “He’ll see you when he gets back. Wait in his office. Shigaraki’s already there.”

He’s probably waiting for you to come in so he can start the fight back up again. You wonder what he said to Secretary Kurose to put that tense, frustrated look on her face. It can’t just be because of you, can it? “I saw the principal leaving. Is something going on?”

“Wait in his office,” Secretary Kurose says. The phone rings and she picks it up, shooing you away. You walk slowly, dejectedly. Partly because you’re hurt by how she talked to you. And partly so you can hear what she says as she picks up the phone. “Yes, the principal is on-scene. The other faculty have Chisaki restrained.”

Chisaki’s one of the biology teachers – anatomy, specifically, and he’s the youngest one on staff. The weirdest, too. They have him restrained? You step into the principal’s office and shut the door behind you, so lost in thought about whatever’s going on down in the anatomy lab that you almost forget what you’re doing here.

But you can’t forget for long. Shigaraki’s sitting in Principal Nezu’s chair, feet propped up on the principal’s desk. He leans to one side to peer at you, half a smirk on his dry, scarred lips. “Come here often?”

You grit your teeth. “Never.”

“It’s your first time. I bet he’ll be gentle with you.” Shigaraki’s smirk sharpens. He leans further back in the chair. “I had to lower this thing about two feet to be able to sit in it. Do you think Nezu hates everybody who’s taller than him?”

You sit down in one of the chairs you think students are probably supposed to sit in and drop your bags by your feet. Your phone buzzes from inside your backpack, and you extract it to find a text from Nejire. What happened??? I heard something went down in lab

I’m in the principal’s office :( you text back, and that’s when it really hits you.

You’re in the principal’s office because you got kicked out of class, because you were fighting with your lab partner, because you gave him chocolate, because you have a crush on him and it’s Valentine’s Day. You might lose your scholarship. You got rejected by the person you like in the worst way possible. And now you’re stuck in here with him until the principal gets back from dealing with whatever the anatomy teacher did. This might be the worst day of school you’ve ever had.

Nejire texts back – ten texts in a row – and you ignore them. Behind the desk, Shigaraki looks up. “You get service in here? I thought this place was dead.”

“I’m on the school’s WiFi,” you say. “Third-years get the password.”

“I don’t have the password,” Shigaraki says. You struggle not to roll your eyes. “I guess it’s only for teacher’s pets.”

“If not wanting to be in trouble all the time makes me a teacher’s pet, fine. I’m a teacher’s pet,” you say. Shigaraki scoffs, and your desire to burst into tears temporarily converts to anger. Anger makes you mean. “You know, you’re a way better actor than me. You did such a good job pretending not to be exactly what everybody said you are that I actually fell for it.”

You’re expecting him to return fire right away. You’ve left him an opening to call you stupid for believing any better of him, and any second now he’s going to jump on it. But Shigaraki stays silent, and without something to react against, your anger starts to fizzle out. All that’s left is hurt and confusion. “I thought we were friends.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Shigaraki says. “Except my friends are a bunch of assholes just like me, and none of them would pull the kind of stunt you did.”

“It wasn’t me,” you say.

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches. “I know it was you,” he says. “Why are you lying about it?”

“It wasn’t me.” You’re never going to admit it to him. You’re going to put this somewhere so far in the back of your mind that you’ll forget it ever happened, and every time you feel that pull towards Shigaraki, those butterflies, you’re going to remind yourself how you feel right now. “Why won’t you stop? You’ve already gotten me kicked out. Isn’t that enough?”

“Kicked out?” Shigaraki laughs at that. “I get sent here three times a week. They haven’t kicked me out yet.”

“You’re not on scholarship,” you say. Despair settles heavily over you. “I’m in the principal’s office and my chemistry grade is ruined – and they can kick me out for breathing wrong. Whatever you think I did, haven’t I paid for it?”

“They’re not kicking you out.” Shigaraki’s not laughing anymore. He takes his feet down off the desk and sits up in Principal Nezu’s chair. “When he gets back, you’re going to tell him I started it –”

“You did start it.”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna cop to it,” Shigaraki says. You blink. “It’ll be my fault, I’ll get detention again, and your record won’t get messed up. They’re not kicking you out.”

“Why do you care if I get kicked out?” you ask. “Do you need a lab partner that bad?”

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches. “No,” he says. “It’ll just be a pain to have to break a new one in.”

That’s what you’d thought he’d say, or something like it. Maybe this morning you’d have thought he cared, but by now you know a lot better. You slump down in your chair, cross your arms over your chest, and wait for the principal to get back.

Fourth period ends without Principal Nezu coming back, which means you and Shigaraki are now missing lunch. School lunches are expensive. You packed your own, like always, and you dig it out of your backpack and open it. Shigaraki takes his feet down off the desk and sits up. “You brought food?”

“Yep.”

“I want some.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you say. Shigaraki stares back at you, unrepentant. “I’m not giving you my food.”

“I didn’t say I wanted all of it. I said some of it,” Shigaraki corrects, like an asshole. “Share. Unless you’re done pretending to be nice?”

“Maybe I am, since you’re done pretending not to be a bully –”

“A bully?”

“You’re trying to steal my lunch.” You put it back into your backpack. Maybe he’ll leave you alone about it now. “Most guys give that up by seventh grade.”

“Yeah, well, I was in juvie in seventh grade, so –” Shigaraki breaks off suddenly, then glares at you. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you say – and then, from somewhere at the edge of your hearing, a sound hits your ears that’s got no business being in a school. “Did you hear that?”

“What? I didn’t –” Shigaraki’s head snaps up. “I heard that.”

So did you. Two screams, from two different people, and a moment later, there’s a third. A chill goes down your spine, and you hold still with an effort, even when the fourth scream rings out. “People don’t scream like that when they’re just screwing around.”

“No,” Shigaraki says. More screams. They’re getting closer. He gets to his feet. “Get out of the way.”

“What?”

Shigaraki doesn’t answer. He kicks Principal Nezu’s chair out of the way, knocks everything on the desk onto the floor, and starts shoving at the desk, to absolutely no effect. It’s so bizarre that it takes another scream to snap you back to awareness. “What are you doing?”

“Blocking the door.” Shigaraki’s voice is strained. “Whatever’s making people scream like that, I don’t want it in here.”

What could it even be? A school shooter, like they have in America? You’d have heard gunshots. Maybe it’s a crazy person with a knife running through the halls, or a rabid animal, or something. Now there are so many people screaming that you can’t distinguish anything about the voices – male or female, young or old, victim or perpetrator. Whatever it is, Shigaraki’s right. You don’t want it here either. You leave your backpack off to one side and join Shigaraki behind the desk, giving it an experimental push. Sure, it’s heavy. You can see why Shigaraki’s having trouble. You square up, plant your feet, and shove.

The desk skids forward, and you keep pushing. Shigaraki’s not doing anything to help, even though it was his idea, and when you turn to look, you find him staring at you. “Are you on steroids or something?”

“No, I’m on the climbing team. We have to work out.” You shove the desk again, thankful for the fact that Coach Usagiyama makes you and the rest of the team cross-train at least twice a week. “Are you going to help? It’ll be faster with two.”

At first Shigaraki just stares at you, but the screams are so close now, close enough that your ears hurt, and blocking the door was his idea. Shigaraki lines up next to you and starts pushing the desk, and together the two of you wedge it against the door. Almost as soon as you’ve pushed it into place, something thuds against it from the other side. You recoil backwards, but Shigaraki throws his weight against the desk, keeping it firmly shut. “Let me in,” Secretary Kurose pleads. “They’re coming!”

Who’s they? It doesn’t matter, not when she needs help. You grab the desk and pull back, only to catch Shigaraki’s arm squarely across your chest, hard enough that you’ll have bruises. “No,” he snaps at you. “Nobody gets in.”

“She needs help!”

“You think she’d help us? No.” The door handle is rattling, and Shigaraki shoves the desk against the door again. “She can run.”

“Please,” Secretary Kurose wails. “They’re –”

Her voice breaks into a high, wavering scream, and the door shivers on its frame as at least three people collide with it. Secretary Kurose’s scream reaches a new pitch, one that makes Shigaraki flinch and makes you jam your fingers in your ears to drown it out. But some part of you knows there’s no drowning this out. Not the scream that hitches and splits. Not the low growls and wet, meaty sounds of flesh being torn away. Not the rattling breaths that go suddenly, horribly silent.

You can’t see anything that’s happening, but some part of you knows exactly what you’re listening to. Those are the sounds of a person being eaten alive, and before you can even think, you’re throwing your weight against the desk just like Shigaraki is, desperate to keep whatever’s out there from getting in.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #bloody valentine au #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

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writingwithciara · 22 hours ago

Text

across the hall; part 3 -quinn hughes-

summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care

word count: 3.1k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader, toxic ex-boyfriend x reader

notes:

"what the hell are you doing here?" y/n looked from abby to andy before shielding her daughter from him.

"i came to see my daughter." andy bent down and looked at abby. "hi there princess."

"how did you find me, andy?" y/n was reaching for her phone. "i left you behind for a reason. not for you to come follow me here."

"i have my ways, y/n." he was standing straight up now, over a foot taller than y/n. she was always intimidated by him and it worried her. "aren't you gonna invite me in?"

"you shouldn't be here, andy." y/n slowly inched her way to the door while clutching abby behind her. she handed her daughter the keys and stood by her while she unlocked the door. when abby made it inside, y/n closed the door and faced andy again. "you really should go."

"look, i know i was a terrible person in the past. but i've changed. honestly."

"i don't believe you. now please leave."

"i'm serious, y/n. what can i do to prove it to you?"

"that's up to you to figure out." she sighed and turned back towards her door.

"y/n, wait up." quinn called from down the hall. he jogged up to y/n, not registering that she wasn't alone. "i grabbed a puck for abby."

"you didn't have to do that, quinn."

"it was your first game and it's the game winning puck." he handed her the puck with care. "i don't know if you remember, but-"

"it's the game winning puck from the game winning goal that you scored." she looked up at quinn and smiled.

andy, who couldn't stand there quietly anymore, cleared his throat. "babe, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"no. i don't think i want to." y/n opened her door slowly but stopped when she heard andy continue the conversation with quinn.

"hey man. i'm y/n's boyfriend, andy. and you are?"

"quinn." he looked between y/n and andy with a raised eyebrow. "wait, boyfriend?"

"ex-boyfriend." she turned to face him. "he's abby's father."

"oh. okay." quinn stuck his hands in his pockets. "well, it was nice to meet you, man."

"no. no it was not." y/n shook her head then pointed a finger at andy. "i think it's time you left now."

"alright. but i'll be back tomorrow." he kissed her cheek and walked down the hall.

y/n headed into her apartment and, unsurprising to her, quinn followed. he set his hockey bag by the door and looked at her.

"are you alright?"

"of course. why wouldn't i be? it's not like it's an everyday thing where your toxic ex shows up on your doorstep months after you decided to get as far away from him as possible." she looked at quinn. "i'm sorry you had to see him."

"i'm sorry i didn't ask you guys to stick around the arena after the game. this could've been avoided."

"don't blame yourself, quinn. you are a good person. and the EXACT opposite of that jackass." she chuckled dryly and turned the puck over in her hands. "i can't believe i fell for that man years ago. i was so stupid back then."

"no, you were a teenager in love. it happens to us all." quinn crossed the kitchen to come stand in front of y/n. "plus there's a bright side to your relationship."

"i supposed there is. if i didn't need to get away from him so badly, i never would've moved here and never would've met you." y/n smiled up at quinn.

"well, i was thinking about abby. but yeah. this friendship is another bright side i suppose."

"of course abby is the brightest side to it. she's my baby girl." y/n glanced down the hallway and sighed. "whenever i think of how horribly i was treated in the past, i look at abby and everything i went through before her seems totally worth it."

"i agree. she's an amazing little girl."

"she loves you, ya know? sometimes i think she loves you more than she loves me."

"no she doesn't. she could never. you're her mother and that's an immediate win over everyone else."

"thanks, quinn. not just for everything tonight. but everything you've done for me since we met. i owe you huuuuge for it all."

"it's not a problem. you're my best friend. i'm just happy making you happy."

"awe quinn." y/n smiled and slid him a glass of water. "i'm really thankful for you."

"as am i for you." he smiled and sipped the water. "it's getting late so i should head out. if andy bothers you tomorrow, do not hesitate to text me. i'll be over here in a second. do you understand me?"

"yes sir." y/n smiled and walked with quinn to the door. "see you later, quinn."

when the door was closed, y/n kept replaying quinn's words over in her head.

i'm just happy making you happy.

why was he so perfect for her and why did he have to come into her life when she was still in the middle of healing herself?

she threw herself down on her bed and groaned loudly. abby, who was sitting in her own room, walked in. "are you okay?" she asked.

"oh, honey. i'm fine. just thinking about some stuff." y/n turned to face her daughter. "come here." she made room for abby to join her on the bed. "i'm sorry about your dad. he shouldn't have just shown up."

"it's okay." abby smiled and looked at her hands. "what do you have there?"

"oh. quinn grabbed it for you. it's the puck that he won the game with." y/n handed it to her. "and he even signed it for you. how thoughtful."

"I love quinn. he's so much fun."

"more fun than me?"

"of course not, mama. you're the funnest."

"i love you, munchkin."

"i love you too. always and forever."

y/n smiled as abby slowly drifted off to sleep. she didn't even bother moving her from the bed and taking her to her own room. instead, she just cuddled her close and fell asleep with her daughter by her side.

the next morning when y/n woke up, she was expecting to have a text from her boss asking her to come into work on her day off. but when she rolled over to check it, there was nothing from him.

there was, however, a text from andy that was received nearly 40 minutes ago. see you in about an hour, it read. she groaned and turned her phone upside down so she didn't have to look at it any longer.

before she had a chance to get out of bed and decide how she was going to avoid andy for the day, there was a knock at the door. abby opened her eyes and y/n got out of bed to answer the door. quinn stood on the other side with a big smile on his face.

"good morning." he leaned against the wall. "i was just about to head out to breakfast and wanted to see if you lovely ladies would like to join me."

"that sounds like a great idea." y/n grinned. it was the perfect excuse to avoid andy. "as long as we can get ready and leave within the next 10 minutes."

"well, you look good right now so it shouldn't take too long."

ignoring the sudden intense burst of butterflies in her stomach, y/n kindly smiled at him. "thanks. but it's abby i'm more worried about. she doesn't like getting her hair brushed. and i don't want to argue with her in such a short amount of time."

"want me to try?"

"you?"

"yeah. i've been told i have an amazing gift when it comes to reasoning with children."

"okay. then, be my guest." y/n closed the door when quinn stepped in. she followed behind him as they headed down the hall to abby's room. just as quinn was about to open the door, y/n ushered him to the next door. when he gave her a raised-eyebrow look, she explained. "she slept in my room last night."

"oh okay." he opened the door and abby, who was sitting up in the bed, rushed off the mattress to give quinn a hug. "hey, sweetheart. i'm taking you girls out for some breakfast. but your mom tells me you don't like getting your hair brushed in the morning."

"i don't. i hate it."

"understood." he chuckled and bent down to her level. "how about this...if you let one of us do your hair in 5 minutes, we can go to the store and pick out a toy, or whatever else you want to do."

"a toy sounds nice." abby smiled and looked at her mom. "can quinn do my hair?"

"that's up to you. but you gotta get dressed in 5 minutes." y/n smiled as abby nodded and ran to her room. she then turned to quinn. "can you do hair?"

"i'm a natural, as you can tell." he smirked and gestured vaguely to his own hair, which only looked like he crawled out of bed and ran his hands through it a few times. but yet, she had faith he would make abby's hair look amazing.

"okay. i trust you." y/n smiled and walked out of the room. "abby, quinn's gonna do your hair while i get dressed, alright, sweetie?"

"okay." abby walked out and dragged quinn to the bathroom.

y/n got dressed and smiled. she had only known quinn for a month and he was already a better father figure to abby than andy was. and it scared her just how close abby had gotten to quinn.

now with andy in their lives, y/n had no idea if they would have to leave to get away from him again. and the idea of severing her daughters connection with quinn, felt like a knife to her own heart.

5 minutes later, y/n was standing in the doorway of the bathroom as quinn gently and calmly brushed through abby's wild hair. he set the brush down and carefully braided it. when he was done, y/n just stared at him through the mirror. he looked up and caught her staring, causing him to smirk.

"what do you think?"

"i think you did a great job, quinn. better than i probably would've." y/n smiled and checked her phone. "okay. we ready to go?"

"absolutely." quinn grabbed one of abby's hands and she used her free one to grabb y/n's. to any outsider, they would look like a typical family. but that was far from the case.

the three of them ventured out to quinn's car and to nobody's surprise, they found it was parked next to y/n's. she reached in and pulled out abby's seat before carefully setting it up in quinn's backseat. she strapped abby in before climbing into her own. quinn shut her door and walked to the driver's side.

"what restaurant are we going to?" abby smiled and looked out the window.

"wherever you want to go." quinn glanced up in the rearview mirror and smiled while he listened to the places abby was listing off.

y/n looked out her own window and they were pulling out of the parking garage just as andy was getting out of his car. luckily, he couldn't see y/n because quinn's windows were tinted. but she saw him and he had a couple of bags hanging off his arms. she couldn't tell what they were but she had a feeling they didn't look like they were meant to be a good thing.

"you alright?" quinn asked as he drove.

"yeah i'm fine." she offered him a smile. "after breakfast, what are you doing?"

"i have no plans for the day. why?"

"would you maybe want to catch a movie with us? abby and i were planning to see that new animated movie-"

"we were?"

y/n ignored abby and looked at quinn "and since one of the restaurants are close to the theater, i figured we could kill two birds with one stone, right?"

"fair point, i suppose." quinn smiled. "of course i'd love to join you."

"great." y/n looked out the window and figured she could use the movie to stall as long as possible so andy would get tired of waiting and just leave.

at the restaurant, a little old couple walked by their table. the lady stopped and smiled.

"my, what a lovely family."

"thanks, but-" y/n began but quinn reached across the table to hold her hand.

"thanks. you guys are the goals we strive for."

"oh, did you hear that marvin? we're what the kids call 'couple goals'. isn't that cute?"

"yes mel. it's so wonderful to hear, darling." he grabbed her hand and as soon as they were out the front door, quinn let go of y/n's hand.

"sorry. i thought they were gonna judge if they found out you were a single mother that looked like she was on a date."

"times have changed, quinny." y/n smiled and watched the waitress bring their food to the table. as she was setting the plates down, she winked at quinn.

usually, he enjoyed what little female attention he got, this act made him uncomfortable. couldn't the waitress see he was with someone? instead of flat out rejecting her, he smiled kindly but focused his attention on y/n and abby as the waitress walked away.

"she was cute, quinn. seemed interest too."

"not my type, honestly." he just shrugged and pulled the top part of the wrapper off abby's straw for her.

abby thanked him before shoving one end of it in her mouth and blowing the rest of the wrapper directly at y/n's face. it hit her cheek and quinn laughed.

"who taught you how to do that?" y/n raised her eyebrow, knowing that it was probably quinn who taught it to her. her suspicions were confirmed when the two of them shared a look over the table that pretty much read 'oh. busted'. y/n just shook her head slowly and smiled. "thanks for that, quinn."

"you are most welcome." he replied just as sarcastically as y/n had. he watched as she looked out the window. her gaze went across the street to the movie theater. "everything okay?"

"huh? oh yeah. i'm just thinking what movie we're gonna see."

"i thought you said we were going to see the new animated one, mama."

"right. yeah we are."

quinn looked over at y/n while abby colored on the placemat. "hey, are you sure everything is okay? i don't want to pry but you've been a little off today."

y/n knew she couldn't hide around quinn. so she sighed and told him what she saw this morning. "i saw the devil as we were pulling out of the parking garage this morning."

"oh no. is that why you wanted to get out there as quick as possible?"

"yeah. he texted me this morning and said he was stopping by. i don't know if you know this but i have a hard time of saying no to him if we're left alone."

"if you want, we can come up with plans to make sure you have no time to spend around him while he's in town."

"i would love that, honestly. but i'm gonna have to face him eventually. i just didn't feel like doing it today."

"well after breakfast and the movie, we're going shopping. but after that, we could grab dinner & do whatever you want to do while we wait it out."

"thanks, quinn. i appreciate it."

the rest of the day went by smoothly. while they were shopping, quinn ended up buying abby whatever she asked for, even though he had only promised to get her one toy for getting ready fast this morning.

when they pulled into the parking garage, y/n couldn't see andy's car so she let out a breath.

"everything okay?"

"yeah. i think so. i don't see his car anywhere so he must not be here."

"well, let's head up and see if he's actually gone." quinn grabbed the bags from the trunk and followed the girls to the elevator. he kept an eye on them when they walked out onto their floor. andy was nowhere in sight.

"thanks for today, quinn. i needed a relaxing day."

"no problem. always happy to be here for you when you need help."

"i know." y/n smiled and let abby into the apartment. she stood in the hallway with quinn for a moment. both of them were silent for at least 2 minutes before quinn spoke.

"i should let you go and get abby ready for bed." he opened his door but turned around before heading in. "you go back to work tomorrow, right?"

"yeah. from 2 to just after midnight. why?"

"well, i was wondering if you wanted me to watch abby. i mean, i have a game and will be at the arena pretty much all day but i feel like it'll be a fun experience for her. you can come too, if you want. before you have to go."

"what time do you go to the arena?"

"9 in the morning."

"okay. i'll meet you there then. you sure it's okay with everyone that abby will be there?"

"oh yeah. she can sit on the bench during the morning skate & bella will be there during the game so she'll be in good hands."

"then you technically won't be watching her, will you?" y/n smiled, causing quinn's eyes to widen.

"technically, no. but i will be responsible for her. i promise she'll be in good hands all day. if you trust me."

"relax. i trust you, quinn." y/n squeezed his hand and smiled. "we'll see you in the morning."

"can't wait." quinn headed into his apartment while y/n went in hers. he couldn't help but think back about what just happened in the hallway. she really trusted him. it had been a while since anyone had put their trust in him the way y/n has the past month he's known her.

he couldn't wait to get to the arena in the morning.

----------

tags: @alwaysclassyeagle

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #qh43 #vancouver canucks

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fakesimp · 2 days ago

Text

Stress Reliever — ft. Wriothesley

Crack? ; Fluff ; Suggestive ; Established Relationship

A/n — Haha, I'm burying my face to his chest, I don't care anymore. I am manifesting.

He inhaled sharply as he felt your hair brushing against his, skin. He blinked down at the culprit, that's laying on him, on his chest. Face buried deep towards his chest, his hand just awkwardly hovering over your figure. Unable to process what just happened, he laid there gaping as he stare at you.

"Babe," He muttered softly, you can hear his heart going so fast as you place your ear right on top of his racing heart, "What are you doing?" He mustered up the courage to ask. Earning a chuckle from you, making him even more confused. "I am laying down," You replied, and then you lean away, smiling cheekily at the man below you, "On your chest, to be precise." You added.

"If you have wanted cuddles you could've asked—" "But where's the fun in that?" You cut him off, he opened his mouth to retort before he just closes them and shook his head in amusement. Now his hand placed on your waist, he stared at you. With such a loving gaze, "Sure, where's the fun on asking what you want." He said before one of his hand brushes against your hair, soon his thumb gently graze under your eyes, to your cheek.

"Only you that manage to get the Duke laying still underneath a.. threat" He smirked, "A threat? Me? Are you sure I'm just a threat?" You retorted playfully. Slowly crawling up a bit as your face is now on the same level as his, leaning down, pressing your forehead against his. "You're not only a threat, but also someone I adore, someone I'm obsessed with." His hands squeezes your hips, down to your ass, he just gave them a quick squeeze before letting out a hearty laugh at your gasp. "Wriothesley!—" You scolded him, he simply smiled oh so innocently at you.

"What? I'm just admiring you, loving Every. Inch. Of you." He said, and each time, he squeezes your ass. Making you squirm on top of him, he laughed again before he pull you up a bit more, burying his face at the crook of your neck. His lips pressing down against your skin, he whispered. "Can't I spoil you with my love?" "Mmn.. You're so unfair, I'm just using your chest as a stress reliever" you muttered, before leaning back, pressing your hands down on his chest.

He grunts before he huffee amusingly, his hands now on your thighs, he smiled as he laid under you, seemingly enjoying of the position that you two are in. "Stress reliever? My chest? What a way to relief your stress when you could've ask for my help." His rough hand squeezes your thighs, "Could've been a bit more aware of what I need Wrio.." You whispered lowly before you heard a low growl emits from the male under you when you presses your weight down on his hard length. His hands that was on your thighs went up to your hips, his gaze flickered up to you, his icy blue hues dilated.

"Right, I should fix that, aren't I?" He chuckled lowly before he grip your hips tightly, making sure that you stay still.

"Then let's relief that stress, shall we? I'll take a good care of you."

©fakesimp — 2025 || Do not copy/translate/use for ai

A/n — Wriothesley, I literally had to rebuild your artifacts, I even switch some with Neuvilette ( I'm so sorry Neuvi, I'll rebuild your artifacts again 🥹 ) Please get your constellations to come home and your signature too 🥺..

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fic #genshin fic #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfics #genshin wriothesley #genshin impact wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader

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just-wrting · 2 days ago

Text

Think I Like You

Title: Think I Like You

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Half Mink!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Master List

Summary: You try to figure out why Zoro won’t take you seriously even if the answer isn’t what you expect.

A/N: I’m not dead! I’m just all over the place with a lot of stuff. I sleep a lot which I can’t tell if it’s a sleep issue or a depression issue, but I’m always tired. I still work full time but also do school part time now. Plus I’ve still got a boyfriend! But he wanted to end this weekend on 1062 which means Zoro brainrot for me.

You stretch and roll over, burying your face into your pillow. Ever since you changed where you nap, you've started sleeping so much better. Something about being more comfortable or something like that. The actual reason doesn't really matter. You're just happy you're sleeping better.

"You owe me for this."

"I don't owe you shit. Not my fault you nap in my spot." You reach up and pat his cheek. "What do I need to do for you to be quiet?"

"I already told you, you owe me."

You open your eyes just a little. "What could I possibly owe you? I don't like to drink, I don't keep money, not to mention I can't even tell if you're the type of man to be swayed by physical charms. What could I possibly offer you, Roronoa?"

"For starters, you can start referring to me by my name like everyone else does." He looks pissed. "You should fight me."

"You didn't take me seriously last time, Moss Head. Why would I bother trying again?"

He pulls on your ear. "I said like everyone else, not like how that idiot says my name."

You ignore him and bury your nose in his stomach. Dinner has been started, and if you don't ignore it you'll end up going to the kitchen early. It's less that Sanji minds seeing you, it's more of the fact that you struggle to suppress the urge to knock shit off the counter and dip your fingers in the sauces. Such is the life of someone like you.

You let yourself doze a little. You can still hear what's going on, but just like every common house cat, you ignore it. What you can't ignore is the gentle scratching behind your ears. As far as you remember, no one has done this since you were a kid. You don't hate the feeling, but you start to feel flustered over it. Ever since you left home, you've made sure affection comes at your own terms so you haven't had this in years.

There's no point in asking him to stop. You're clearly fond enough of him to nap on him, what's the big deal about getting ear scratches? Besides, he's the type to get embarrassed and loud if you point out you're awake. That's not something you feel like dealing with right now. You're too touch starved to complain.

Despite the comfortable conditions, you don't actually fall asleep. You spend the next forty-ish minutes pretending to sleep, waiting for dinner to be done. The time passes by relatively quickly, though you're sore afterwards. You couldn't bring yourself to even twitch, worried that he'd stop.

The dinner call goes off, and you pretend to wake up. You have no clue why you're acting, but it was too late to stop twenty minutes ago. Standing up, you stretch halfheartedly. At first, he doesn't say anything. It's only once he catches up to you that he starts asking questions.

"What's the deal with the noise you make?"

Raising an eyebrow, you look at him. "I don't snore, so I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not stupid, I can tell you aren't snoring. The other noise, the one that's relaxing. I can usually feel it when you're laying directly on me."

"What do you mean? The other noise?" You pause to think it over before it clicks. "We aren't talking about that."

You know what he's referring to. It's not like it's something you can control, but it's still embarrassing. Of all people to be you around, it's been Zoro. No one on the crew has judged you for being what you are, it's just embarrassing to be a mix. Your mother's human, and your dad's a mink. You look decently human, just with a few quirks.

"What do you mean, we aren't talking about it? We're talking about it right now."

Your face starts to heat up. "I mean I don't want to tell you."

His eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why not? Is it supposed to be embarrassing or something?"

"If I say yes, will you drop it?"

"Yeah, sure."

His face instantly relaxes. If you could smack him, you would. The last time you tried, it hurt. So you put your hand on his shoulder and give him a push. The only thing it does is cause his other shoulder to hit the doorframe, but you use it to march past him.

You take your seat, leaning back against the armrest of the booth seat. Kicking your feet up on the space next to you, you watch the crew carefully. Everyone is smiling and in a good mood, so you don't have anything to worry about. You don't ever admit it, but you care about them even if it's difficult to show.

Zoro picks up your legs and lays them in his lap. Since it doesn't seem to bother him, you're tempted to just sit normally. You have no idea what's going on in that head of his, and you doubt he does either. However, you actually do enjoy touching him, so you'll stay like this for now.

There's more commotion as Sanji brings out the plates. The one you're most interested in is a large tuna fillet that gets set in the middle of the table. You can't stop staring at it, the tender flesh a beautiful golden color. It's hard to tell if it smells better than it looks or looks better than it smells. Sanji has never failed to impress you with his dishes, so you can't wait to sink your teeth in.

Before you can even start to load your plate, Sanji sets a small plate in front it you. It contains a disk of packed rice, some avocado slices, and chunks of fish. You're assuming it's more of the tuna. Whatever it is, it was made specifically for you.

You don't mind the special dishes. You'll try almost everything, and unlike Luffy, you'll eat it slow enough to give a review. Everything tastes good so you don't get the point, but it probably makes Sanji feel better to have honest reviews and not just someone who loves food fawning over his cooking. Though if you're not careful, you worry that he'll start having write an essay about it.

"And for you, a special tune tartare! If you like it, I'll make it again for everyone some time."

You nod. "Yeah, I'll let you know. I always do. Not that you've ever made a bad dish."

You can't stop the tip of your tail from flicking back and forth in mild annoyance. By the time you get halfway through the tartare, all of the fillet is gone. It's not like it's the biggest deal, you just wish you could've had some of that too. It's not fair that since you got a special tuna dish, that you don't get the other one.

"If you tell me what that noise was, I'll share," Zoro teases while pointing at you with a bite of tuna. "I bet you can't resist answering now."

"I'm a cat. I was making a normal noise that cats make. Consider it a compliment."

You lean forward and take the bite of tuna. It's flakey and melts on your tongue with a slightly sticky glaze that has hints of honey and garlic. You lick your lips savoring the balance of flavors. None of them are overwhelming, but it's hard to gauge in just one bite what you think about it.

"You can't just," Zoro stutters. "You can't just take the food off of my chopsticks. Get your own!"

You grab his wrist and lick the glaze off of the chopsticks. It feels like there's another flavor there that you can't quite tell what it is. It's some sort of herby flavor, that while you enjoy, you can't pin down.

"Here!" Zoro doesn't look at you as he shoves his plate towards you. "Just take it since I don't want your germs."

You want to tease him, but you'll leave him alone. It's better to leave it in front of other people since Robin's insinuations are becoming too much. For now you'll just eat the food. Later, you'll tease him.

—-

"You're still not taking me seriously, Roronoa. Why did you want to fight if you won't take me seriously?"

You lunge, hand reaching for his throat. He blocks it with his arm, causing your claws to dig into his skin. Using his arm as leverage, you pull yourself closer to him, swinging your sword at his side. His parry is effortless, and he looks bored. It's so aggravating that he won't take you seriously in a simple sparring match. Perhaps he'd take you more seriously if you actually tried to kill him.

You disengage before leaping over him. This time, you swing your sword at his neck as he turn around. It's once more blocked, and he smirks. You're just barely faster than him as he takes a halfhearted swing at your sword arm with his other arm. You catch the flat of the blade with your knuckles, steeling your arm against the shock wave of the blow.

Kicking your leg out in front of you, you aim for his knees, intending to bring him down. Despite the grip on his sword, he catches your ankle in his hand and pulls your leg to the side. You let your body pivot with the movement, twisting until your leg is behind you. You yank your foot forward as hard as you can, pulling him into your back.

He's quick to let your ankle go and grab your shoulder to steady himself. In a fluid motion, you swing your arm and grab your dagger. You flick it in your fingers and thrust towards his ribs. His hand trails down your arm to your wrist and pins it behind your back. He gives it a squeeze trying to get you to drop the dagger.

"Are you actually trying to kill him?" Nami tells from the side. "Are you stupid?"

You roll your eyes, sweeping your leg behind you and hooking Zoro's. Despite your efforts, you can't get him off balance, only causing him to take a step back. By now you're getting pissed off. You aren't a bad swordsman, it's just that this jerk is ridiculously smart in battle. This is probably the only time he'll use his brain all day.

You jerk your head back, hitting his jaw. The sound of the impact makes you regret it, knowing you'll feel like shit later. You manage to free yourself as he loosens his grip, and you elbow him as you twist back around. The only reason you're still going is because he won't take it seriously. It's like he finds it funny that he's able to fend you off so easily.

You rush towards him, tossing your weapons to the ground. Digging your claws into his shoulders, you use your momentum to knock him over. It only works because he's too busy rubbing his jaw to notice you in time. The two of you tumble to the deck, and you lean in as close as you can.

"Why won't you take me seriously? Is this just a game?"

Faster than you can blink, he's able to flip and pin you under him. He's even more smug than the last time you sparred, and you can't tell if you want to smack him or if you should kiss him. Not that you could smack him, he's got your hands above your head. While kissing him would let you win, you're not willing to fight that dirty in a friendly match.

"You're a brute, Zoro. You can't just manhandle the other crewmates just because you feel like it." Sanji pulls him off you. "If you were in the mood to fight I would've taken the offer."

You tune out their fight as Chopper checks your head and shoulder. You're a bit sore now, but you'll be fine in a few hours. Nothing keeps you down for long, even if it's usually just you going against the doctor's orders. The only thing actually bothering you is the fact that for a moment you thought he was going to answer your question. Though the fact you thought about kissing him is also an issue.

It's not difficult to figure out why you thought that way. Your parents made sure that you knew to find someone strong enough to protect you in case of something happening, even if you knew how to take care of yourself. That, and he's easy on the eyes. Even if he's an idiot half of the time, that doesn't matter. Your parents never said to find a smart man, just a strong one. Everything else was your choice.

Chopper hands you a damp towel, and you use to clean under your claws. Tiny spots of blood rest under them, probably from when you grabbed Zoro. If the pinprick wounds bothered him, he doesn't show it. He's too busy trying to shove Sanji off the boat. As long as you stay dry, it doesn't matter if they end up overboard. They can both swim.

After a few minutes, Nami separates them. You watch her glare at the men before you stalk off to take another nap. The sun is just starting to dip below the water, so finding a nice patch of sun to lick your figurative wounds isn't possible. You'll have to settle for sulking in some weird spot. Perhaps it's time to torment the fish in the tank once more.

Lounging on the sofa is probably the second best place to nap. The sound of the tank constantly humming while you watch the fish swim in tempting circles puts you at ease. You stretch out fully, let your arm and tail hang off the edge. The tip of your tails twitches slightly as you trace the movement of a particularly large bass. That should be tomorrow's lunch, perhaps in a stew. Even though it hasn't been long since you had food, your mouth starts to water at the idea of seafood stew.

"He really doesn't take you seriously, does he?"

You recognize Robin before she even speaks. Her stride is longer than Nami's with her steps being lighter than everyone else's. Not to mention she smells floral. It's never overpowering, but it allows you to pick her out from the crew.

"I guess not. Maybe I should've gone for his other eye."

She laughs, sitting down next to you. You aren't opposed to the company, especially if it's Robin. There something about her that puts you at ease.

"I don't think he'd like that," she muses. "What did he say to you?"

You scoff. "He didn't say anything. Bet he's too proud to take me seriously, like the jerk he is."

Robin smiles knowingly. "I'm sure he has his reasons. Maybe you should talk to him, just the two of you. I'm sure he'd tell you when no one else is around."

You frown. "What is he? A shy school boy? There's only one reason for not taking me seriously in a fight, and it would be him not thinking I'm even worth it. No point in having him tell me that in private, he can just keep it to himself."

She reaches out her hand, gently brushing your hair from your eyes. "Then what do you think about him?"

"I think he's an idiot who swapped out his brain for more muscles."

"Let me rephrase that. What feelings do you have about him?" There's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "At least figure that out."

You shift so you can place your head in her lap. "I guess he's fine most of the time. I don't know why I enjoy his company, I just do. He's never really pushed me on anything, just sort of letting me do my own thing. Not to mention he's comfortable. As much as I hate admitting it, I suppose I like being around him."

She continues to brush your hair with her fingers silently. It's one of those tactics of hers. She'll stay quiet until you keep talking.

"What do you want me to say? He's nice enough to me, I can respect him as vice-captain, and he's decent looking. Everything else I think about him is my little secret." You're starting to get irritated talking about him. "Actually, I think I'll go talk to him now. I'll drag that answer out of him if I have to."

Robin looks at you with worry as you sit up. "Perhaps this is just a misunderstanding. What are you going to do if his answer isn't what you expect?"

"I'll deal with it when it happens," you say with a shrug. "It's not like it'll be anything surprising."

You take your time wandering around the ship. It's not hard to tell where he is, you'd rather put it off for a little bit longer. This weird feeling in your chest has been bothering you a lot lately. It can't be ignored anymore, but that doesn't mean you're one hundred percent ready to admit it.

Thankfully, he's exactly where you knew he was. You won't tell him that you enjoy finding him when he's working out. Something about him being shirtless is nice. Not that he usually bothers with wearing a shirt, so you can usually just stare whenever you want. Maybe he just likes the attention, and you'll gladly give it to him.

As soon as he leans back on the bench, you sit on his lap and stretch out over his torso. You rest your chin on your hand, pressing your palm on his chest. Watching as he sets the barbell back on the stand, you wait for him to start talking. It would be fine with you if he kept working out, but he seems opposed to the idea.

"Is bothering me amusing to you?"

You tilt your head slightly. "You're not cute when you're mad, so no. I was just hoping we could talk."

"You don't have to sit on me to talk."

"That's just personal preference. Besides, you tend to avoid talking about certain things and this keeps you from leaving." you say with a Cheshire grin. "I enjoy your touch, so this is ideal for me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zoro looks away from you. “You keep saying weird stuff.”

You don’t even blink as you respond, “I enjoy your touch. That’s what that means. I’ll even be nice and tell you the answer to your question from earlier. As a cat, I sometimes purr when I feel comfortable and content. Though some cats purr when scared.”

“So you’re scared of me? Is that what that means?”

“No. The only thing particularly scary about you is the fact that you’re an idiot.” Your ears twitch. “But since I answered your questions, you can answer mine. Why don’t you fight me seriously?”

He looks at you for just a moment, before looking at the ceiling. It’s like he’s embarrassed by the answer and is hoping you’ll forget about it. However, you’ve already made up your mind about what you want. You’re just waiting to see what he’ll do.

“I-,” Zoro cuts himself off to hide behind his hand. “I could hurt you really bad. That would be bad.”

Your tail swishes on the ground in mild irritation. “So you think I’m incapable of defending myself. That would explain the times you’ve interrupted my fights.”

“It’s not that!” He sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist to make sure you don’t tumble to the ground. “I don’t want you to get hurt if I’m around. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

You’re nose to nose with him now. Even at this distance, he can’t seem to make eye contact. You can smell the liquor from dinner on his breath. It would be so easy to close the gap and kiss him, but for some reason the thought makes you nervous. You’re usually close to him, so why is this time different?

“Why should you keep me safe?” you mumble. “Do you save me out of obligation for the crew? If so, aren’t there better people on the crew to swoop in and save?”

“Does it matter why?” The way that his lips almost touch yours as he speaks makes you flustered.

You close your eyes. “Yes. I don’t want to get my hopes up if you think of me as nothing more than a burden of a crew-mate. Just be honest with me for once, Zoro.”

You don’t regret the soft begging tone as you say his name. You regret not saying his name in that almost pathetic tone sooner. The way that he kisses you makes your head spin. Even though he’s holding you close, you have to wrap your arms around his neck to make yourself feel more steady.

Zoro kisses you like he’s been wanting to for months. His hold on your waist makes it impossible to move, and the way that his hand grips yours hair makes you moan. You can barely breathe as his tongue explores your mouth, your grip on reality slipping as his fingers dig into thigh.

Even when he pulls away to let you breathe, you find yourself lost in the way he touches you. Sloppy kisses trail down your jaw and neck, coming to an end with his teeth on your collarbone. The way that his fingernails scrape gently against your scalp as he tugs lightly on your hair causes you to expose more of your chest to him as you lean into his palm.

You’ve never felt like this before. Hot, heavy, and breathless all while being lightheaded. You wouldn’t have it in you to resist him if he wanted more. In fact, the pathetic words of begging him to ravish you weigh heavy on your tongue. Yet he just continues to press kisses along every inch of skin exposed to him, ignoring how hard you’re panting as little moans escape you. He’s oblivious to everything but the act of kissing you.

Zoro only pauses after you tug his hair harshly. You didn’t mean to, you couldn’t help the reaction to him biting down on the side of your neck. You couldn’t even help the strangled groan that leaves you as he leaves a mark. For some reason, your body is shaking like you have some sort of withdrawal.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice rough and low.

You kiss him again, desperate to get as close as you can. Desperation courses through your body as you realize just how badly you’ve waited for this. You’ve spent months being almost attached to him so it makes sense, you just can’t figure out how you missed it. The long nights spent curled up in his lap, face buried in his neck has left you craving him so much.

You whine as he pulls away, unwilling to let this stop. It doesn’t even matter anymore how prideful you’ve been up until this. It’s so obvious how much you want him. Nothing could hide it anymore.

“Zoro.” You don’t even open your eyes. “Please.”

He gives your thigh a tight squeeze as you whimper. You can tell that what little restraint he has is fading with each whine of his name. Yet he’s able to pause and hold you close, breathing heavily into your ear. Eventually, he covers your mouth with his hand, stifling your words.

“Not like this,” Zoro says, his tone meaning he’s serious. “If you really want it, I want to make it special.”

“S-special?” You don’t know what that means. When was the last time someone told you that you were special? “How?”

“Just better than in the exercise room on the Sunny. You deserve to be treated better than that.”

You nod, and he lets his grip loosen. Despite the fact that nothing much happened, you feel drained. Maybe it’s because you really enjoy naps, but the exhaustion is hitting you hard. You don’t hide it, letting yourself go limp as Zoro picks you up.

“You can sleep in my bunk tonight. Not that it matters if I say you can as you usually show up anyway.”

You caress him jaw before giving his cheek a kiss. “Thank you, Zoro.”

The flush on his cheeks goes unnoticed by all beside you. Not that it matters, you don’t want to hide your feelings for him any longer. If he agrees to it, you’ll parade your feelings for the world to see.

#reader insert #one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #op zoro

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kangaracha · 1 day ago

Text

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 24

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n hi. it's me. i'm back. i don't have any excuses to make.

please also check out daybreak, posting weekly from now on (yes i did write an entire smau instead of queenmaker and sit on it for almost six months)

previous | masterlist | next

---

Comeback approaches like a hurricane; it's there, developing in the corner of your eye just off the coast of your island, and then all at once it is here, and it is so all-encompassing that you're not even sure where here is anymore.

Comeback. Debut. The most important day of your life. One of those.

Time starts to fly by; schedules and practice and filming and every so often the chance to sleep or to grab something to eat with the others. It drags at your coattails, sticks itself to your feet and settles like a weight upon your shoulders, but you can't stop. There are performances to film, and then there is a concert that you are missing so much of the choreography for, and even when all of that is over, you are headfirst into award season and special performances and group activities for the company and-

First, debut. Second, everything else.

The camera sits on the table in front of you, staring with one dark, unblinking eye as a brush darts across your face, erasing all your imperfections. It fills your stomach with a funny kind of fear, small but poisonous, stinging when you think about turning it on - you've managed to put it off so far, waiting until your face was made up to at least avoid having to see your own naked skin reflected back at you in the viewfinder. No one else wanted to see that either, you're sure, after the things you've read and...well, the experiences you've had in the past. It's good to know your limits, after all.

That excuse is fast running out now though, and the time to go up towards the stage is drawing closer with alarming speed, and if you don't capture any footage before that happens, you're in some real trouble, no matter how loudly Seungmin and Felix are churning out hours worth of content on the other side of the room.

It takes real, deliberate effort to lean forward and turn that camera on once the makeup artist proclaims you ready, your hands delaying still as they fiddle with the angle and the focus, following the motions the manager that had handed it to you had shown you before he left. It gives you a little red light to say it is filming, and you swallow down the stone in your throat and sit up straight, looking around at the room to avoid the stare of its lense.

The first minute of your vlog is very boring. It's probably only the thought of some stranger sitting in a room later and watching you sit there awkwardly for a ridiculous amount of time that spurs you into saying anything at all.

"Hello Stay," you begin, because it seems the only way to begin. The words feel awkward in your mouth, your tongue stiff and undeserving of saying them, and your throat scratches and dries; you think, as you speak, that you do not sound like a singer at all. "It's nice to meet you...for the second time."

A noise rises up from behind you, giving you pause just as you run out of things to say - Han, running his voice up and down the scales as he begins to warm up. You've gotten used to that by now, the volume of the boys around you, but you're grateful for the excuse to pause in your self-rumination anyway, the precious seconds it gives you to figure out what it is you're saying.

Act normal, you tell yourself firmly as you turn back to the camera.

"I guess I should introduce myself, shouldn't I?" you say, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I'm L/N Y/N from Stray Kids, and today we're at [] for our first performance of Back Door, and I have just finished with the makeup..."

In the corner of the viewfinder, you notice a face hovering over your shoulder; Jeongin, waving a peace sign just out of your field of vision. You turn to look at him, shuffling over so that he is in full view for the camera. "What are you doing?" you ask and he leans in closer, automatically fixing the angle for the camera.

"I just wanted to see what you were doing," he says, refreshingly peaceful compared to the chaos that is building in the rest of the room. "Is this a vlog?"

"Mhm," you answer, and he smiles and waves again to the camera. "Are you dressed already?"

"Nearly," he says, glancing down at his white shirt and the black necklace that dangles around his neck. "You have time still."

You glance down at yourself; hoodie and cargo pants, neat but not show-ready by any means. "Mine is cold," you say by way of explanation, thinking of the skirt and thin shirt that wait on a rack in the next room, a far cry from the long pants the eight of them are wearing; and you really do like the look you've been given, but the thought of sitting around cold before you had to was less than enticing. "I was going to go and change in a minute."

"Maybe you should swap with someone," I.N suggests slyly. "I bet Changbin would look good in a skirt."

"Changbin's pants wouldn't fit me," you throw back, and he has to turn away from the camera to hide the ugly laugh that snorts from his nose. "He's too-"

Short, you don't say, your eyes tracking the boy in question as he passes by. He pauses in the back of your video when he notices your eyes on him, looks between you suspiciously, and then dances his way out of frame, having decided, you guess, that you aren't up to anything worthy of comment.

The look you share with I.N almost makes you laugh again. "I'm going," you say, scooping up your camera as you stand, "before he realises we're talking about him."

---

"Why do you look nervous?" Chan asks, a shadow that suddenly stands beside you as someone clips a mic pack onto his belt. You eye him in disbelief to avoid turning to look at the hallway that leads to the stage again, trying to figure out if he's joking or not.

"I can be nervous if I want to," you answer after a few seconds, in a way that definitely doesn't hide how anxious you feel at all.

"But you shouldn't be," he insists, "because there's nothing to be nervous about."

"You know that won't stop me," you scoff.

He cracks a smile despite himself. He almost laughs, except that he's busy turning to nod in acknowledgement of whatever the assistant behind him says on her way past. "It's going to be a good performance," he says, like the simple act of saying it is enough to manifest it into existance, like he would never believe otherwise.

"It's going to be good," you agree readily. "The concerts next week are going to be good too."

That smile flashes across his face again, his eyes lighting up. "You're excited?" he asks - and you almost feel guilty, that he would think that you wouldn't be excited, that you've worked so hard and put on such a stoic face that any of them might start to think this is a chore for you, rather than a dream coming true in front of your eyes.

"Of course I'm excited," you tell him emphatically, before he can get any ideas. "I can't wait to-"

"Y/N noona!" Changbin says as he strides across the room, stopping the thought halfway through. You turn to face him and the phone he waggles in his hand questioningly. "Take a photo with me."

"Right now?" you ask, looping your in-ears over your shoulders as if to demonstrate just how poor his timing is.

Changbin doesn't notice at all. "Why not now?" he questions. "I'm supposed to take a photo for instagram. Come and take one with me."

Beside you, Chan looks like he still has something to say, but when you glance at him, he only shrugs, turning away to fiddle with his own equipment. "Alright," you agree easily and follow Changbin, over to a bland enough piece of wall with decent lighting. You have a feeling someone has already scouted the room earlier for the best places to take photos, judging by how easy it is to find and how well it photographs.

It's a good distraction from the nerves for a few minutes, but it doesn't last much longer than that; especially not when Changbin barks and fusses over the angle and the faces, and then Hyunjin comes wandering over to take the camera out of his hand, and you realise that he's occupying you as much as doing what Skijigi have asked him to do. After that, you laugh and poke fun back at him with just the same vivacity, but it does nothing to assauge the anxiety that's planted deep in your gut, roots curling out to envelop you.

Somehow, when you're done, it is time to go up to the stage - and suddenly, you are engulfed within the group and walking that hallway you had been staring at what feels like moments ago, trying to swallow with a dry mouth and a stone in your throat and wondering if you'll actually be able to get any of the notes out at all.

Chan's hand touches your shoulder as you walk, appearing by your side in just the same way as he had earlier. You wonder if he can smell fear or something; or if you really are just that pale and drawn in the face, if your hands are shaking or something. Whatever it is, you're clearly not doing a very good job of hiding it.

"You still look nervous," he tells you cheerily, and if he's aware that he's reading your thoughts, he doesn't give any indication of it, not even as he pulls you aside as you reach side-stage and glances up at the huddle of boys that continue to the bottom of the stairs, eyeing them as if there's something he doesn't want them to hear.

"I got you something," he says, when he's sure there are no eavesdroppers, and lets his lips curve in a secretive, delighted smile.

Your eyebrow raises in surprise, almost certain that he did not forget, but rather has been looking for the right time to bring it up - but he doesn't notice the look of disbelief, fishing a small, velvet bag out of his pocket. He offers it to you on an outstretched palm, a bridge to form the gap between you.

With timid, shaking fingers you take it, noting the pink that stains his cheeks and the way he cringes away from meeting your eye as you pull the drawstrings loose. "I saw you playing with the ones at K-Con," he hurries to explain before you can even see what's inside. "And you - fidget a lot. I thought it might help."

A ring tumbles out of the bag and into your palm, the full stop to the end of his sentence. It's only a plain silver band, softly curved at the edges and gleaming where the light hits it - nothing ostentatious or gaudy. Just a simple band for you to twist around your finger, the letters SKZ engraved on its inner circle.

"Thankyou," you manage to say as you slip it onto your finger - and then fiddle with it, twisting it and forth to distract yourself from the nervous hum that seems to hang in the air between you.

"Oh, no." He waves you away before you can even get the words out, that pink flushing his face. "Look, it works already."

You glance down at your fingers and the twist of the ring, and feel the grin that bites at your face. "I like it," you admit, and try to breathe the nervous jitters out of your chest with the words.

He looks...relieved? You're not sure, when the music blasts on stage and then cuts off and the crowd roars in response, cutting him off before he can say whatever it is that now lines the back of his teeth. It looks like relief on his face though; as if he'd been worried you wouldn't take the gift or something. Wouldn't see the sentiment behind it even if you didn't like it. What does he think of you, if that's how he thinks you might react?

The thought sends another thrill of fear down your spine, one that the scrape of that ring on your finger can't quiet. So does the scream of that crowd - adrenaline rises from your chest, wrapping its hands around your throat; that wild, senseless energy tensing in your body like you're about to run from a fight-

A hand claps your shoulder. "Are you breathing?" Seungmin asks, balancing on one foot as he leans around you to frown at your face.

You have to inhale to retort, and he smirks. "That's what I was wondering," Chan says behind that grin - but the brush of his hand over the back of yours is much softer; questioning, rather than the jolt of contact from Seungmin.

"I don't need to breathe," you throw at them weakly. "I'm a robot."

"How do I turn you off, then?" Chan asks, and then laughs when you stare at him, surprised. Betrayed, maybe, when you would have expected such a thing to come out of Seungmin's mouth rather than his.

You're distracted by the call of a staff member, waiting to usher you onto the stage - and there, again, are your nerves, returned in two-fold. Debut, you remember again for the thousandth time today. Your dream. Your reward. Your life's work, the only work you've ever learnt how to do.

The group huddle together, say some quick words of encouragement that float past you with registering at all. Your hand is warm in the centre of all of theirs, crushed by the weight of someone's palm as eight hands go down and whoever is on the bottom goes up, ruining the whole thing. You know that you laugh, between the groans and cries of retribution, but it doesn't reach right into your chest. All your attention is laser-focused on the steps before you and the buzz of the crowd waiting beyond.

You are not alone in your daze, at least. Many hands pat your shoulders, smooth your hair. Felix throws an arm around you until you reach the stairs, a one-armed hug while he talks about something in your ear. He lets you go while you climb, and follows on your heels out onto the stage.

The crowd is smaller than K-Con, to your mercy, even if they scream and cheer just as loud as that massive crowd had. It seems like a stupid thing to find comfort in a moment later, when the thought hits you again; of course the crowd is smaller. This is only a broadcast recording, not the concerts that leer at your from the near future.

Some of the boys are already at the centre of the stage, waving and talking to fans. You join them long enough for the official greeting - and then melt away into the background when Changbin immediately commands attention. You find Han there with you, arms swinging by his sides in one last warmup, but you can't think of anything to say other than the tight grin that offers itself to him, no doubt writing all you nerves right onto your face. The smile he gives you in return is sympathetic, and devoid of pretty words to go with it; just a flash of teeth, a puff of air that blows into his cheeks before exhaling. It's a little comfort, at least.

The call to begin shatters any calm it pulls over you just as quickly as it arrives though, the stage a hive of activity as everyone finds their places. For a long moment, no one moves and nothing plays, the tense, still seconds ticking by at an excruciating pace-

And then the music starts.

And then you dance.

And then you sing, loud and clear and bright - and steady, even with the complex movement of your body and the increasing cry of your chest for air.

The finale rises and culminates with Felix's voice, standing at the end of the line behind you. You feel his weight bump against you as he shifts on his feet, hear the moment of silence and then the renewed cheer of the crowd when his ending fairy comes up on the screens. You can't see when it ends, so you count to five before you turn, ducking out of the line as requested and immediately finding the red light of the camera that was told to be waiting for you. Finger hearts, Felix had suggested backstage and Hyunjin had agreed, and so that is what you give them, angled just so by your cheek and the giddy smile that had been pulling on your lips before the music was even finished.

The stage goes silent, the few scattered beginnings of applause quickly throttled by the hands that remain in their laps. The seconds tick by at a glacial pace, the smile threatening to slip from your face. You glue it there with all the fire that remains in your veins.

You could swear the camera lingers, just to drink in your pain. Logically, you know it is the same time as Felix had. Somehow, the thought isn't comforting.

Finally, that lense clicks off and the boys move around you, giving the crowd something else to hawk and squeal at. Something they really want to see, you allow yourself to think acerbically, and carefully avoid looking any of them in the eye as you do your forced, casual wander off the stage. It is hard enough to achieve in your own bubble, to resist that urge to run, let alone if you catch anything like sympathy on their faces.

The first one below, you take one look at the playback monitor and excuse yourself to the staff, fleeing towards the bathrooms. You're dimly aware of footsteps behind you and the sound of your name, but they do not process and your feet won't stop - not until the heavy door slams shut behind you and the propel of your walk carries you in sight of the mirror over the sinks-

Beautiful, you'd dared to think earlier, staring vindictively at just the same image that looks back at you now. The careful fit of the navy shirt, the short skirt flattering the length and lines of your legs, the layered bangles and the diamonds that glitter around your neck...perfectly crafted to slip right in amongst the silk and patterns of the boys - and not unlike Midnight's dark queen concept either, the concept you hadn't had the right look for. You'd even liked your face, and the unearthly glow they'd painted into your cheeks, the perfect frame of your dark hair-

But something had displeased that crowd. Whether the look, or the dancing, or stupid, stubborn pettiness over girlish crushes - or all of it put together. It took a lot to silence an entire crowd. You knew that - you'd seen one refuse to be silenced before, but never nominally refuse to cheer. Never pass the sentiment around and come to an absolute mutual agreement.

It's a talent, to be able to do that by yourself, you think as you stare into your own eyes in the mirror; and you don't have it in you to deny the rush of feelings that wells in your chest this time, or the hot prick of tears in your eyes. Your thoughts are swept off in the storm, the questions clamouring, crying, begging for one answer; why, why, why, why. Why do they hate you, why are they so mean about it, why didn't you just go home? Why did you ever come to this country in the first place? Why id you think you were good enough to be worth their love?

A soft knock on the door precedes the tentative entry of an assistant; one of the girls from JYP that always travels with you on schedules. You know her name, but you should know her better; instead, you've just been keeping to yourself. Another point of failure, probably.

"Y/N?" she says, daring to put one foot through the door as you blink and nod in acknowledgement. "Sorry - we need to start heading back now. You can have another moment - if you need-"

"I'm coming," you hurry to say; and it is shame that colours your cheeks and gives you the strength again to swallow it down like a hard stone. The tears burn as you blink them away, as you stare at the mirror and decide that no more will fall except for the traitorous three that have already escaped. You'll have to go back on that stage - you won't go red-eyed and puffy, won't give them that satisfaction.

You'll have to do that ending again too, though. Weather that storm a second time. Well, you'll just have to make sure this take is perfect, and then no one will ask for a third. You'll be able to go home and hide.

Your moment is up. You know that, and so you turn yourself away from the mirror, to the girl that waits. She willingly averts her eyes as she steps out, holding the door for you until you grip the edge of it with your own hand and follow her.

Chan is waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall and staring at nothing as he waits. There's a dark anger in his eyes when he turns, but it isn't for you - no, the tissue box in his hand is for you, offered like a bridge that spans the gap between you.

Warily, you draw one and turn aside to dab at your eyes and try to cool the burn in your cheeks. You want to cringe away from yourself and hide in the bathroom again, to put off facing him until he goes away - but if you do that, he'll know you're hiding, and the hovering assistant will bear the blame of not bringing you back, and those fans will think they know why it's taking so long-

Stupid. They already know that they've won. Chan can see you crying. There's no one left to make a fool of except yourself.

"Are you alright?" Chan asks - and just like you thought, there is none of that anger in the gentle voice that asks.

"It's fine," you answer, biting at your tongue agains the tears that threaten to stir anew. "Sorry. I just needed - a moment. I'm ready to go again."

"Take another moment," he tells you.

"I'd rather go," you say, and it comes out harsher than you mean it to - but it is only the tears that you are fighting, that horrible, gut-wrenching wave of emotion that wants to wash over you. "I'm fine. Really."

The tissue crushes in your palm. You wonder if the sceptical look he gives you is because of the makeup you've surely smudged, or if he just doesn't believe you. "Are you sure?" he asks, and you steel yourself as you breathe in.

"I will be if we don't talk about it," you tell him tightly, and then you take the lead before he can disagree. He falls into step willingly anyway, thoughtful or maybe brooding as you weave your way back to the stage.

"We're not doing the endings again," he tells you as you approach, right as the flock of makeup artists engulf you. Like they knew you'd be crying, you think acerbically, and then banish the thought before it can unbalance you again.

"Were there any notes for me?" you ask as a brush dusts your cheek. The dancing; that's the only thing you need to focus on. The performance. Do it perfectly, and you can escape. Subconsciously, you fingers find the ring, twisting it around and around.

"Not for you," Chan says. "Just try to enjoy it again, yeah?"

Several choice comments come to mind as you gaze at him, each one as dry and hurt as the last, but a look at the occupants of the room stills your tongue. Assistants and stylists and employees of the show - people that you shouldn't be caught speaking ill of fans or members in front of. You've read your contracts and the company ethics, seen the bill for your training attached to your name. You know how far fans and a good public image takes even the most insidious people.

"I'll try," you promise instead, firmly holding your tongue to your principals. No point complaining about hardships anyway. This isn't an industry that takes pity on those who are too weak to survive it.

Even so, the answer seems vapid and contrived the moment it spills out of your mouth. Chan doesn't have time to contest it; the others are already returning to the stage to entertain that undeserving crowd, and so you must follow too, side by side in silence. His microphone passes restlessly from hand to hand, even when you step on stage and his brow smoothes out. You wonder how long that rage will simmer beneath his skin.

Until he can do something about it, a little voice whispers to you with a thrill, watching his receding back.

The stage sweeps you away after that, Chan disappearing into the midst of the others with just one last glance over his shoulder to make sure that you're following. Seungmin replaces him, appearing unobtrusively in your shadow as Felix slings an arm back around your shoulders and bats his hand away from messing with your hair. They flank you until you drift into your position, and then the stage goes quiet so that the music can start again.

The dance flies by; chorus, verse, bridge, dance break. The fans cheer and chant along as dutifully as they had the first time, but the sound resonates hollow in your chest this time, the faces that you give the camera manufactured rather than brought on by the music. It's hard to forget, now that you know the truth, that those cheers aren't for you; only the boys that surround you, their bodies moving in unison with yours. Part of them, and yet set apart.

You'd come six years ago expecting to be the jewel in that kind of crown, you think. This crowd has made you the flaw, ugly and unmistakably out of place.

It's a relief when the song ends and you can let go, your shoulders slumping and your chin dropping to your chest as you stare at the floor and try to breathe. A hundred emotions sweep by you, there and then swallowed again by the storm that churns in your stomach; you flinch away from the crowd's laughter at something Han does, and then laugh when Changbin's face appears upside-down in your field of vision, his body contorted strangely in an effort to meet your eyes. There's still something hiding in Chan's eyes and Felix is openly angry, but Minho gives nothing away in the nod he gives you as he passes by. Changbin talks about what to get for dinner on the way back down the stairs, but the words just wash over you; you're not hungry anyway, after all of this, just hollow and restless and tired.

Your third filming trudges by much the same, correcting a small mistake by Han in the pursuit of perfection. The boy looks apologetic as he passes you by, but it's not him or the dancing that you resent. It's just a thing you have to do, until all nine of you are pleased, until you can finally leave that stage and draw the hoodie you'd worn here on a very different kind of morning back over your head and climb into a car to go home.

You don't win any awards. The boys hide their disappointment, but you know it is there. You know, too, where the fan vote went and why that trophy was stolen away from them.

You're not really sure what anyone expects you to do about it.

---

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

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elliewrites77 · 14 hours ago

Text

Yapper!Gojo Modern AU

Yapper!Gojo who's best friend is the least talkative person he knows, even more so than Geto. Even after weeks of sharing a class, it was a full month of being classmates before he heard her voice.

Yapper!Gojo who doesn't pressure you to talk. He does plenty talking for the both of you, and somehow knows that you don't mind. A big part of your friendship is the fact that their is an unspoken connection, and you both tend to understand each other naturally. He talks, you listen, and you both enjoy the dynamic.

Yapper!Gojo who knows when you're uncomfortable or overwhelmed without you even needing to say anything. Maybe it's because you're always on his mind or his attention is always on you, but somehow, he just knows.

Yapper!Gojo who doesn't hide his affection for you. Sure, he doesn't come right out and say "i'm in love with you", because he does have a secret fear of being rejected by you, but he loves calling you pet names, loves physical touch like holding your hand, and stuff that some would say are obvious signs of feelings. and you always reciprocate, maybe not to the same extent, but still.

Yapper!Gojo who only shuts up when he insists on joining you in the campus library to study (you're studying, he..isn't). He knows how important finals are to you, but won't stand to not see you all week, so he invites himself to your study session. You barely acknowledge his presence in the small room, but you both know you are happy he is there with you.

Yapper!Gojo who finally plans to tell you his feelings after finals are over. You both have one semester left before graduating, and since he doesn't know where life will take you guys after college (though he intends to keep you in his life) he figures it's better to do it sooner rather than later. So he devises this elaborate plan, even forcing Suguru, Shoko, and Nanami to help him (all of which said he should just tell you without anything 'big').

Yapper!Gojo who almost has a panic attack when the day finally comes. Finals were over, and Christmas break was the best time to do it. So while you thought you two were just going out for a "friend-date" to a nice resturant Satoru wanted to try, he was panicking thinking about everything that could go wrong afterwards.

Yapper!Gojo who is suspiciously quiet throughout dinner. Not entirely silent, he could never be, but still. It was strange. So strange that you were more talkative, though most of what you said consisted of asking him if he was okay multiple times.

Yapper!Gojo who can't help but admire how beautiful you look on the way from the restaurant. He had asked if you'd mind one more stop, a surprise. So as you sat next to him, he stole multiple glances. Eventually, something about being so close to you made his anxiety calm.

Yapper!Gojo who covers your eyes when you arrive to the spot, helping you out of the car carefully. He guides you to the spot, taking a deep breath before he uncovers your eyes and allow you to adjust.

Yapper!Gojo who watches impatiently as you blink, your eyes flitting around the area. For the first time ever, he is anxious at your silence. He can't read it, and it worries him.

Quiet!reader who looks around at the University quad. There was a specific area that had a small gazebo and a few trees, a nice little patch that Gojo and you called "your spot". it had been the place where you first spoke to him. It was the place you guys always went to relax, to talk, to destress when everywhere else got too much. and now, it was lit up with fairy lights throughout the gazebo, a hammock connecting two trees, and a small blanket laid out on the ground with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and two pillows laid on top.

Yapper!Gojo who stays silent as he waits for you to process it. Once you look at him, though, he gulps and moves closer, swiping the flowers up as he moves. He holds them out to you.

"I know this is unexpected, but I just finally wanted to tell you that I'm in love with you. And I know you don't like big, extravagant stuff, but I really need this to be perfect and still show just how much I feel for you." He slightly rambles, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in nerves.

Yapper!Gojo who is silenced by the feeling of your lips on his. His eyes flutter closed as he kisses back, the fireworks between you exploding in his chest. And even though you don't say it, he knows instantly you've felt the same,

Yapper!Gojo who reluctantly lets you pull back after a long, loving kiss. but he doesn't regret it when you whisper the four words he had been longing to hear.

"I love you too."

Quiet!reader who may not talk much, and may be able to leave things unsaid with Satoru, but will never hesitate to tell him exactly how she feels about him.

------

not proofread

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siri-ike · 2 days ago

Text

The spray was never supposed to last long. So when Tim came home and heard Dick say he'd sat there with "Bruce" for three full hours, he was concerned, to say the least. He can't still be in his fantasy. He can't still be this docile. Real Bruce wouldn't even be this docile, let alone "elementary school arson record" Bruce. But he just sat there. Staring at anyone who came into view.

His grip was tight, much tighter than he could pull off when he was high. And no way would Nightwing ever ask him to stop. He'd hold him forever if not for all their pesky human needs like eating and sleeping. Speaking of sleep, shouldn't he be getting tired? "Hey, Bruce?" Dick whispered so as not to disturb too much. "Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

Bruce shook his head. "I fell asleep, during Gray Ghost." His voice was calm and low (for a child), and he didn't even try to un-bury himself from his dad's hold.

This is big. He slept and didn't lose his memory. Dick waved Tim over.

"What?" Tim spoke at a normal volume.

"He didn't forget dinner." Dick kept whispering, but his excitement shined through. "He woke up at 4:43 pm yesterday, we had dinner at 9, afterward, he got to watch some Gray Ghost tapes and fell asleep. At 4:43 am he woke up again because Phantom was destabilizing as usual, but when Zatanna asked him what happened, he told her about dinner. He Remembered Dinner." Dick really emphasized the last part.

"That's great," Tim brought his tone down to match Dicks. "So then he's stable?"

"Stable? Dude, no. He's aging backwards."

"Oh, right. I forget people are supposed to get older." Tim said, fully serious. "I'll run some tests, and we should keep monitoring him."

"How about we run tests, and you go to your room and take some melatonin." Dick suggested. Let's see if he knows how aging works in the morning afternoon.

One hour later, at 9, Bruce was willing to eat. Dick hadn't left his side and could attest that he was calm non combative and ate like he hadn't seen food in a month. "Please don't be Stockholm syndrome, please don't be Stockholm syndrome," He repeated in his head. "It's too fast to be Stockholm, I can't let him leave. He thought he was dead a few hours ago. Wait, did he ever say he didn't?"

"Hey B? I, uh, Bruce?" He addresses the boy across the dining table.

"Yes, Father?"

Crap, crap, crap. Other age appropriate swears. Dick doesn't look anything like Thomas. If anything, he looks like Martha. No, wait, he looks like his own parents. Unless.

"Bruce, what is my name?" Nightwing fiddled with the mask in his hands.

Bruce just sat there, confused. Like he didn't expect him to have a name at all. "You're... you're, uh," He looked shamefully down at his food. "I don't know." His voice quivered.

"It's ok, Bruce. My name's Richard Grayson, Dick for short." He reassured. "Just one more question, alright?" He gave Bruce time to consider and nod. Nightwing put his arms down on the table and looked Bruce in the eyes. "Are you alive?"

"No~" his guilty expression instantly turned to utter glee.

Nightwing thought for a moment. "Are you dead?"

"No." He giggled.

"Then what are you?" So much for "one more question."

"I am not bound by life or death."

Dick didn't recognize the language, but it sounded otherworldly, almost like a mix of TRAP music and demonic incantations with a hint of backwards English. He also needed a minute.

"Alfred?" Dick asked head in his hands, slumped over in a chair in a corner of the kitchen. "I'm starting to think my son might be the devil."

"Master Dick, all parents think their children are devils from time to time. I certainly thought it with each of you, and look how you turned out... raising more hellspawn." He joked, kind of.

Dick couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "I think we need to move up our meeting with Harley." He sat up, hands on his knees as if to brace himself. "Bring her here, rather than go to her."

"Isn't she in Arkham right now?"

Nightwing pulls out his phone. "I'll figure something out." He scrolls through his contacts and finds two Jim Gordans. He picks the one with the incognito picture.

"Commissioner Jim Gordon." Jim answers.

"Hi, this is Nightwing. Remember that boy, a month ago, who claimed to be a clone of Batman?"

"Yes, he showed up right before all of you dropped out of the world. Did he survive?"

"Yeah, he's... something. Look, I need Harley Quinn."

"Harley Quinn, the clown or Harley Quinn, the doctor?"

"The doctor."

"You know there are plenty of psychologists in Gotham."

"And none can handle these sorts of things without losing their minds, too."

-Silence-

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

*click*

"Why do you need a doctor?" Bruce had innocently popped in, probably to talk to Alfred.

"Hey, buddy." It was impressive, really. Not many people can sneak up on him, especially not so casually. "Harley's a friend of ours. She's just going to talk to you. Think you could do that for me?" Dick has raised more than enough titans to know you can't force kids that age to do anything.

"M-hm." Bruce turned toward Alfred. "I had water and sleep and darkness, but my head still hurts. Can I have something?"

"Oh, dear." Alfred put his hand on Bruce's forehead. "Well, your temperature is normal. Where does it hurt?"

"Here, and here." He he presses on his forehead, then to the sides of his head just above the ears.

"I'm gonna give you one more Ibuprofen, and we'll do some tests after that." Alfred put the medicine box back on its top cabinet shelf. "How does that sound?"

"Good," Bruce placed the pill in the back of his throat with his hands like he was auditioning for a horror movie, then he downed the water like a normal person. He was about to head out but stopped. "Alfred? Can I have candy?" He pointed at the fancy glass bowl full of chocolate covered salt caramels.

"Last I checked, sugar does not remedy headaches... you can have one." Alfred didn't even look at the puppy eyes. He is not willing to put up a fight for something so small.

Bruce delightfully lifted the lid and, careful not to touch more than one, picked out a treat. He likes the ones with blue marzipan.

Nightwing watched him leave the room without a care in the world. "I think you just got played."

"The headache is real. And I believe more than just swelling. He may no longer be throwing up and seizing. But he's been asleep for almost a month, only waking up for an hour or less, always at the same time. Then there's the more recent confusion in identity. Those are not psychological symptoms. They are neurological." Alfred gave his most serious "listen very closely, I'm not even going to buffer this with sarcasm" face.

"I'll schedule a brain scan."

Clone Danny long post

The footprints lead Alfred out of the room and to the right but quickly dried up on the short hair carpet.

Alfred checked every room to the right of Danny's. He had to have left the family wing. 40 minutes of searching later, Alfred was about to go down yet another hallway when he heard faint music and metal clanging. He walked closer to the sound until he could make out some words.

🎶I- can hear the sound of violins🎶

🎶long before- it begins🎶

The gym. Someone is at the gym. He told Dick to relax. This is the opposite of relaxing. He stops for a moment outside the door to gather himself. People listen to empathy more than anger. When Alfred pushed the door open and looked down at the workout area, he didn't see a disobedient clown. No. Instead, he was forcibly dragged back to 1989, staring at a 13 year old Bruce doing chest presses. He always looked the most at ease when he was at the gym. The rest of the time, he would be looking for his parents' killer or discovering seacret organizations. Alfred used to cherish the time Bruce spent at the gym because he knew it was the closest he could get to calm. Shortly, Danny put down his 3 kg weights and addressed Alfred.

"Morning, Alfred. Breakfast already? Thought I had more time." He sounded like Bruce, more than just his voice. Danny had his own way of talking, but this was all Bruce.

"Young Master," best not to object to his perceived reality, whatever that may be. "It's almost seven in the afternoon, not morning." The sun would have spoiled that for him anyway. "And dinner will be ready in two hours."

"Oh, ok. I'll be there at nine then." Danny simply went over to the next station in his routine. Right as he sat down on the floor, something seemed to dawn on him. "Alfred? Did something happen to me?" He asked innocently.

Alfred remained frozen, staring at the young boy. "What would give you that idea?"

"I woke up in a different room than usual, I had to switch down all my weights, and the files in my father's office have been moved. And then you came in looking like you've seen a ghost." Ever the detective.

"Nothing gets past you. I'm afraid you had a rather bad fever and spent a few days in bed. I would like to examine your health, but it can wait. Let's say, eight-thirty? Before dinner?"

"Kitchen at eight-thirty, got it."

Alfred left the room and braced himself on the door. He thinks he's Bruce. He probably thinks it's the 80s or 90s, too. It's a good thing most everyone is out hunting down clues and/or committing extreme acts of violence.

Danny had changed into an all black suit (bowtie and kerchief included) before coming to the kitchen at 8:27. Hmm, he does like to be punctual. His temperature and heart rate were normal, for once he didn't have bags under his eyes, which responded in time to light. But, he was definitely younger than he was when he arrived. Dick wasn't imagining that.

"Can you tell me your name, age, and today's date?"

"Bruce Thomas Wayne, 12, almost 13, today is November, uh," He struggled a bit. "17th? Maybe a bit later, 1988." He avoided eye contact. "Just so we're clear, I wouldn't have known today's date even if I hadn't been sick."

Alfred smiled a little, remembering how much he used to care about getting good scores on everything. "I'll be sure to include that in the report." He retorted sarcastically, earning a small grin back. "Now go wash up, dinners almost ready."

As per routine, Alfred started by bringing out the helthiest dishes. They all knew it was a trick to get them to eat vegetables, but no one was ever willing to wait. Danny was so hungry, even the brussel sprouts were appetizing. Now if Alfred could just stop staring at him and actually put the container on the table.

"Alfred?"

"W, what?"

"Are you OK?"

Danny had combed his hair when he'd asked him to wash up. This was Bruce. This was the boy Alfred raised. The one who had fallen asleep in his arms every night for months because he refused to be alone in the dark. The one who used to "forget" to tell Alfred about the handfuls of peanut butter in his pockets, ruining thousand dollars dress pants on six different occasions. The one who wanted to keep street cats knowing full well he was allergic.

"Do you need a day off? Or maybe a week?"

"What? No. I'm alright master Bruce. Just, uhm, glad to see you have your appetite back. That's all." Keep it together now. He set down a steaming glass dish full of baked carrots, sweet potatoes, bell peppers, onions, brussel sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms.

Danny took as big a serving as he could fit (vegetables can only go in the top right on his plate), making sure not to let the butter run too much. The next dish was steamed turnip. Crap. Another vegetable. Can't mix them. Can't put it somewhere else. The only option is to finish the baked vegetables fast.

By the time he finished his quarter of a turnip, six more dishes had already shown up. How many people does Alfred think live here?

At 21:11 Dick walked into the dining room. Dressed in a plain shirt and pants. The two boys looked like they were going to entirely different events.

"Hello." Danny invited. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"This gentleman is detective Richard Grayson." Alfred interjected. "Master Dick, would you care to join us for dinner?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Here, have a seat. There's plenty of food."

The dinner after that was awkward, but nice. It's good to have some company once in a while. Ever since his parents died, it's just been him and Alfred.

He did wake up late in the afternoon, so it shouldn't be such a surprise that he got to stay up and watch his gray ghost VHS tapes way later than his usual bedtime. Only interrupted occasionally by Alfred, making sure he's keeping all that food down. He had to have been really sick. He doesn't even remember throwing up recently.

He must have dosed off at some point because he was awoken abruptly at some horrid hour of the night by an ear pierceing scream. He hurried to its sorce in the family wing where he saw what looked like another Bruce, except this one had white hair and wore a black onesie. He appeared to be melting into a glowing green sludge. Bruce knelt down and grabbed the boy, who stopped screaming. Opting to bury his face in Bruce's chest instead.

Alfred came just as the gruesome scene was over. 4:50 am, same place, same time, every night. Alfred had hoped something had improved when the screaming stopped early. But rather than the typical gorey mess, there was Danny, inconsolable and covered in slime.

"Wh, wh, ah?" Who was that? What was that?? Why was that???

"Master da- Bruce." At lightning speed, Alfred was on his knees and holding Danny. "Come on, you don't have to be here." He tried to lift him up, but Danny resisted.

"...Why do you have the carpet cleaner?" He accused. "Did you know this would happen?"

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