#listen if someone trusts you enough to talk

[riastarthe]

sure whatever. Yes. that's fine. i do think it's pretty irresponsible to say all this and not offer alternatives, something to go on that Can be trusted. i think providing exceptions helps prove the rule, no?

The people in the notes, particularly, who are very comfortable asserting that the vetters themselves are suspect would do well to share their own criteria, what their methods of vetting are, who they DO trust. if the answer is no one then you're as much of a fool. much of the vetting is also done offsite by talking to multiple families and their friends. yes, many of these people know each other, or know friends of friends, just like people from enclaves in a city are more likely to. "why so many emojis in a war zone" "why do so many messages sound the same" look, most of these people don't speak fluent english and don't know that this is the shit that looks like spam/scams to you. as someone who habitually talks to palestinians on bluesky and whatsapp,

1) emoji usage aren't grounds for disqualification. they're trying to express how they feel, like yourself.

2) they aren't FLUENT ENGLISH SPEAKERS! THEY COPY THE SAME MESSAGES OVER AND OVER BECAUSE IT'S A PAIN IN THE ASS TO MAKE NEW ONES! and many explicitly ask for help writing new messages because they KNOW that goes much further than what they already KNOW is brushed aside— worse, reported— as spam.

3) YES they have time to "panhandle" during a genocide. how do you think time works? how many people do you think there are who need help? no one can go to work anymore, there is no work, no fun, no hobbies to enjoy. everything is taken up by trying to get food and water and get a stable enough connection to ask your mean bitch ass for help. but they have some time to do that, and the people doing it are often mothers and their older children. they have the time.

4) you don't have to like what they say. no one in Gaza wants to be talking to you, personally, about their abject horrific circumstances. you wouldn't like it if you were in their position. when someone says "i've thought about killing myself" or "i'm ashamed to be their parent" or somesuch thing, think about what the fuck is going on. you don't have to listen, you don't have to reply, but there's nothing outrageous about this. bombing. starvation. illness. planes overhead. an armed quadcopter hovered in my friend's window before thankfully leaving. you can think you'd act better in this scenario! you can chide a desperate parent in front of everyone to prove it! i hope you never have to go through it yourself.

it is much easier to block, delete, and ignore suspicious messages than it is to escape a war zone. if in fact the messages are dishonest, then it should be no trouble to shrug it off. please put whatever overwhelm you feel into context— either it's people who cannot act their best and cannot communicate in keeping with your personal standards while trying to survive, or, it's scammers/bots.

yes, you DO need to be able to filter this stuff for yourself and do work that is difficult and time-consuming in order to learn to be discerning. you need to be more uncomfortable with the fact that real people who are suffering, even dying the slow death of starvation and disease, will slip through. you need to figure out how you're going to deal with that. the confidence you have that there is a one size fits all way of judging these things is false. it's not enough to say "yeah i get a bad vibe"— does that bad vibe just help absolve your conscience?

also the people in the notes saying "what's the point of donating money when there's not even any food to buy :/" hey: go to hell anytime. many organisations can't reliably or consistently distribute aid, let alone enter gaza. israel is blocking that aid so donating to orgs is not going to reach palestinians effectively. maybe sometime. but PEOPLE can withdraw money via gfm and chuffed, and gfm is pretty stringent, maybe overly so, given how many Very Verifiably Factually Confirmed For Real people have their donations returned and fundraisers shut down. many people also sponsor or otherwise facilitate these campaigns, and there are extensive guides on how to do this, which includes knowing how to be smart and fact check, or vet, people.

but how can you do that without organising with and learning from the people who have dedicated their time to doing exactly this, dedicating their time to establishing networks in and outside of palestine, educating others on how to both identify scammers and even through language barriers help palestinians differentiate themselves from these scammers— but when everyone's hungrily and racistly looking for a way to write them off, very often no amount of evidence is good enough. these networks of dedicated assistants even facilitate the apologies necessary when photos are sometimes taken from verified real palestinians to be used by Other verified real palestinians— something which near-exclusively occurs because they can't take new ones of their own, or, feel everyone has lost interest in the facts they've already provided. this is something which is completely understandable given the situation, but is looked down on as a major faux pas by palestinians themselves, and will call each other on it. this stuff doesn't go unnoticed. and if you are capable of noticing it, it's worth saying so, but you ALSO MUST COMMUNICATE. there's no sense in making a callout for a person you can so easily cut off and to relegate them to such terrible circumstances while leaving no room for improvement, that's just bastardly.

i have been honest with my dear friend in Gaza about my limitations. they have no reason to be as patient with me as they are— i have no money to offer— but following my honesty, they are. they are consistently patient and understanding even under constant threat.

but seeing you go "ummm that is NOT how you speak to someone when you want their help!" and "phew! i support palestine or whatever, but come on!" in the responses to this post, i actually do not trust that you are capable of the diligence you believe is required!

I miss when I would get Tumblr asks that actually said things and weren't just digital panhandling scams.

[beigetiger]

I'm still being so normal about Jack. He's literally just Some GuyTM who was actually pretty good of a person for someone in the gaslight district. He just got really, tragically unlucky.

We can see from the pictures and the way that Mud and Mel talk about him that he was VERY close with this family and probably understood just how toast he was when he learner their little family secret by accident. Mel was comfortable enough with him to be reading a dirty magazine in front of him and neither of them seemed to think anything of it. She gave him a second chance to agree to hide the secret and live and he turns it down. Mud gave him a cig before they threw him into the sea.

We can see from his organ donor card that he also trusted them all. He wrote a little heart next to his name. Outside of the shop, he lives with his mother, and she's now probably wondering what happened to him. He trusted Ken enough to let him be the witness on the organ donor card.

He and Mel have a shockingly raw conversation in/on a fast-moving vehicle a few mere minutes into the pilot and it ends in a car crash because neither were paying attention to the road. He asks if what is happening to him right now will happen to Mud and Breadhead when they find out too. He tries talking to Mud and Breadhead, even as they were brutalizing him, trying to get them to just listen to him, to understand what was happening. They cement him anyways.

I'm so normal about him you guys

[cpvnksabm]

hey. rtc bootleg sharers & fans in general

able-bodied ricky warrants a warning /srs

the 2022 rtc script rewrites are incredibly ableist. other people can explain this better than me, and already have, but just to summarize: the deliberate erasure of ricky's physical disability is inherently a problem, and the script's handling of details that were originally caused by ricky's physical disability is downright disrespectful. it's a bastardisation of a character who was important to me and an insult to the disabled rtc fans who could see themselves in ricky.

suffice to say, a lot of disabled fans would really prefer not to see productions that use that script!

i'm not the Bootleg Watching Police, i have neither the desire nor the ability to "cancel" people for being fans of an ableist production. i understand that the world isn't black and white, that bootlegs by nature are pretty limited in their ability to benefit ableist productions anyway, that a lot of rtc fans are okay with just ignoring the ricky-focused scenes in ableist productions if the other 5 characters are handled well.

but it should be a common courtesy to keep in mind that some people - disabled people especially! - can't just ignore the ableism in certain productions, or don't want to!

for a while now i've honestly just been avoiding all rtc productions i wasnt already familiar with. because i was tired of seeing people talk about some new production that seemed cool, and starting to be interested it, only to find that ricky is able-bodied and it feels like a slap in the face. eventually i stopped getting my hopes up because i didn't want to be disappointed.

disabled people in fandom shouldnt have to do that! if you want to be inclusive (and i should really hope you do, what with all the self-identified allies in the fandom and the fact that including & listening to disabled people is part of the musical canon), then you should be willing to put some effort into making sure the fandom isnt hostile toward us, even unintentionally.

on top of that - when ableist productions are able to get popular, and the ableism isn't warned for or discussed, it's hard for disabled fans to know who is actually ableist. when someone makes a long post praising an ableist production without so much as a "it sucks that ricky was able-bodied", i don't know if i can trust them. are they outright ableist, and in favour of the ableist script changes? or are they uncomfortable with that part of the production and just putting up with it because they like other parts? this is another way the fandom can be unwelcoming toward disabled people!

i think a lot of people, especially who have been in the fandom for a couple years now and witnessed the mccarter theatre ableism & the script changes as they were happening, think that this issue has already been discussed enough. we've all agreed that disability erasure is wrong, it sucks that the script changes happened but it's too late now, we can take it as a given that we're all on the same page about this. there's no need to keep talking about this.

this sort of "everyone is obviously already on the same page that this is wrong" attitude is common in response to all types of ableism, and it is bullshit. ableism is common! there are always people who support the ableism, and people who don't understand the issue! it is always important to keep talking about it!

if everyone takes the "other people have already talked about this and agreed that it's wrong, so i don't have to acknowledge it!" approach, then nobody talks about the issue! and i'm certainly not saying everyone has to make a long post analysing the ableist script rewrites and explaining why they're wrong, but the bare minimum is that when you're talking about and sharing ableist productions, you should mention the ableism. so that disabled fans can avoid that production if they want to and so that they know you aren't condoning the ableism.

it's been way too long of this fandom ignoring the ableist script changes because "oh its already been talked about". the discussion never stopped being important. and now there are more and more people joining the fandom post-2022 who don't even know about this issue, because the people that do know are far too content to leave the discussion and awareness in the past.

the #saverickypotts hashtag was not just a one-off effort that is no longer relevant. ricky's neuromuscular disease is still valuable disability representation that i'm willing to fight for.

once again i am not the Bootleg Watching Police. if you don't think avoiding ableist productions is worth it, then you don't have to. but have some awareness of the disabled fans who don't want to see it.

this is a fandom where i regularly see posts talking about the choir's canonical death censoring "die" to "unalive". if you can do that, you can add an ableism warning

[thatspurgatory]

OKAY FUCK DRAWING IM GONNA DEVELOP THE AMNESIA AU

//amnesia, gaslighting, just toxic yandere behavior

I do like the idea of people somehow discovering Silver is the son of Dawn Knight and Queen Leah and being the focus of attacks. He thought he was being injured for defending Malleus and that actually the person wanted to hurt Malleus instead of him, which isn't the case.

He gets hit by an amnesia spell, and the last thing he can see is his father coming up to him after defeating whoever was fighting Silver.

When he wakes up, the first he sees is this black and pink haired man throwing himself on him and hugging him, followed by some green haired guy starting to scold him for being so reckless. But all Silver can respond is, "Who are you? Why am I here?"

After the initial shock, Lillia ( who's very devastated to know his own son, doesn't remember a single thing about him, not even by telling him who he was) and Sebek go inform Malleus about the situation. Malleus was initially sad to know what happened to Silver... to think he probably doesn't remember Malleus either leaves him with a bitter taste on his mouth. However, he thinks it's better not to tell Silver everything, not even about his job as a bodyguard, as the amount of information he would get could stress him and not only but his duty might burden him when he needs to take time to rest.

Malleus and Lillia are very sure this attack was personal towards Silver, so while he rests, Lillia will look a way of regaining his son memories while Malleus investigates what the motive of the attack was ... he might as well need that person alive for now.

It's weird to Malleus, though, since Silver doesn't know about his duty and treats Malleus the same way he would treat a friend, even though he's more polite as Silver obviously knows he's a prince. It reminds him of simpler times when Silver was just the boy he used to visit every now and then, who loved to play with him, who didn't keep Malleus at a distance because of their roles.

Maybe Silver should stay not knowing this part. He can know everything but this, actually.

Malleus craves Silver's affection more than he knew, actually. He never knew how good it would be that they could hold hands, that Silver gets to talk to him about his problems (especially the amnesia) while Malleus listens and comforts him, that they even get to hug now... he doesn't want to let Silver go to being a retainer.

He can never return to the past now. Malleus doesn't want to feel so lonely anymore. He wants Silver close by his side, like a lover, not a guard.

Well, a little lie wouldn't hurt, would it? He did tell Lillia and Sebek to keep quiet about Silver's retainer job... it wouldn't hurt to tell Silver that he wasn't a body guard at all. After all, didn't that job hurt him? Malleus didn't need Silver's protection, but Silver DOES need Malleus to protect him at all times.

That mindset would worsen once Malleus found that Silver is being targeted for being Dawn's son. Ah, he gets too worried about him 24/7, and no one but Malleus is trustable enough to be so close to Silver, well, except Lillia and Sebek, he guesses. One more lie is fine. Those friends Silver had didn't want his good anyway, so even if Malleus did make some things up, he was right to do so.

The orders have changed now, and now they can't let Silver leave. What if he gets hurt so badly again? What if someone truly powerful is after him? Only Malleus can protect him. Not anyone else is capable of doing so. He tells Lillia that he doesn't need to look for a cure for Silver. They can just tell him everything. With the exception of that one information, of course. Lillia accepts it... maybe it's for the better that Silver doesn't know.

Ah, Malleus loves how Silver trusts him.

That's why he tells him they were lovers in the past, no more guard and prince history, that wasn't doing any good for both of them. They are lovers, always were, don't you trust Malleus to tell you the truth, Silver? It isn't good to worry about nothing at all? To just remain in the castle and love Malleus?

Silver doesn't need to know. After all, if he knew, Malleus would erase his memories once more again. That's the only way to save them both from a horrible path.

//yeah fuck the plot of the original game lol I just like the dialogues from Toma since they are very yandere!Malleus TO ME!!

"Are you scared of me?"

"Just like you don't care about my pain, I won't care for yours as well."

"I do everything to keep you safe, and yet you still escape."

I may have get some dialogues wrong BUT YOU GET THE VIBES

[girlivealwaysbean]

loving your friends and lovers the same amount but just in different ways is great for many reasons such as any friendship has the potential to turn into a romance and any romance can turn back into a friendship because you love that intensely all the time anyway. however

[pomefioredove]

can I request house wardens + leech twins with a reader who doesn't eat enough bc Crowley doesn't give them enough for food, and they end up really ill and collapsing or something. I'm cravin some fluffy comfort rn, pls and thank you 🙏

I got you🫡🫡 as someone who's been through an eerily similar situation, I really liked this request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ another crowley moment™️

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jade, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating

Riddle wouldn't even have to like you to rush to your side. but he does like you, which makes it all the worse

after checking your vitals, you're in the infirmary. he's got doctors for parents, after all, and he knows that malnutrition is bad

he should have seen the signs...

with exams coming, he's been so busy, and he assumed that you were just tired from studying

but he can feel guilty later. right now, he needs to focus on you getting well again, and not killing Crowley

(then, of course, he'll look for some legal statute or clause that he can threaten Crowley with so you're fed properly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona noticed you'd been acting a little weird lately, but watching you collapse still puts him in shock

luckily, Ruggie and Jack are nearby to help you to the infirmary, so Leona can focus on hunting Crowley down like an animal

there are very few times where Leona is particularly grateful for his status, but this is one of them. just one word on how his family will be hearing about Crowley's neglect, and the old bastard is begging him for forgiveness

even after that, Leona still sends Ruggie with snacks and drinks to Ramshackle

and if you ever scare him like that again, you'll regret it (lovingly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the news of you collapsing during flight lessons reaches Octavinelle rather fast. no one is particularly surprised, since Floyd had mentioned how easily you'd been bruising lately just the night before, but everyone is certainly worried

Azul is the first at your side, asking you all sorts of questions, worried sick. Jade has to remind him to give you space to rest, since you look exhausted (had you always had those dark circles? how could Azul have not noticed?)

now, Azul and the tweels could easily find a way to pressure Crowley, but they know better than to trust him

from now on, you'll be eating in the Mostro Lounge, free of charge

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

perhaps Kalim was just oblivious, because he really didn't think anything was wrong until you were suddenly on the floor in front of him

sure, you'd been a little moody lately, but he figured it was just a thing you were going through. and besides, you know that you can talk to him about anything... right?

Jamil hurries to check your pulse, and shouts for him to get the school nurse- which is jarring, because Jamil never shouts

when you explain everything to Kalim later, he feels... terrible. he should've known- no, he should've asked

Kalim insists you stay at Scarabia while you're recovering, and makes sure you have the most enriching, delicious meals money can buy

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil knew it was bad, but not this bad. if he had known you were on the verge of collapsing, he would've taken a firmer approach to getting you to eat

you're going to worry him to death someday, you know that?

after he's done verbally eviscerating Crowley, he'll insist on joining you at every meal. he'll eat at Ramshackle, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if that's what it takes

he's subtle about it, at least

if he notices that your plate feels empty, he'll just take some food from his and put it on yours. gracefully, elegantly, without a word

you'll come home one day to see your kitchen stocked with vitamins, supplements, and apples (courtesy of Epel)

<3 and a note that says he'll treat you to dinner whenever you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

never scare Idia like that ever again. he wasn't even with you when you collapsed, and he STILL nearly had a heart attack

listen, he knows he's not a great role model when it comes to nutritional eating, but you have got to tell him these things. he would've had Ortho go get takeout! or something!

typical Crowley behavior, SMH. what does he think you are? a rabbit? even the school horses get treated better...

no way that Idia is going to even bother with that old fart, anyway. you want something? he'll get it for you. you don't even have to ask, he'll just send food to your place (and have Ortho check your vitals more often but shhh)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I would not want to be in the room when Malleus finds out about this

not even the building. you know what? I'd steer clear of the whole island, because it will not be pretty

when you collapse in front of him, it feels like he's dying, too. the panic sets in, and he sends Lilia to look after you, and Silver and Sebek to escort you to the infirmary, and then he casually threatens to smite Crowley. obviously

if the students and staff of NRC thought Malleus was scary just being Malleus, he's terrifying when he's mad

(rest assured that you will be getting ten times the amount of food from now on)

it's thunderstorms for days after, but he never leaves your side

[quarterlifekitty]

Love the trope of Price mentally constructing a nursery in every home and apartment he’s ever known, in the house of everyone he’s ever dated— it’s the first thing he thinks of (right after where on his body he’s gonna tattoo their name).

He has his dream nursery memorized. It’s his mind palace. He wants cream yellow walls, because his baby is going to be the sun, the same way his wife is his moon, with the away she has over his heart of the sea. He wants an accent wall with wallpaper in a classic motif— the kind they use in pediatricians offices, to be honest. Building blocks, fluffy clouds, circus animals.

John loves tradition, generational passings on, well-crafted things that can last centuries if cared for well enough. He wants his nursery furniture, all of the stuff in his house, really— to be solid wood, handmade (he promises that he’ll make the bulk of it himself, the rest antique). He’d rather die than buy a brand new house without any history. No craftsmanship, all straight lines and 90 degree angles, no consideration to what makes a home feel like home.

Despite being such a trusted member of the team, he knows precious little about your home life. Fine by him— your past is your own, he has no right to it. One day, as you’re about to pack up for leave around the holidays, you ask to speak to him as a friend, rather than a captain.

It’s well known that Price doesn’t have the family he’s dreamed of. An old war dog, bridges burned with the ex wife from his youth, he doesn’t hold out a lot of hope. Maybe in the next lifetime, it will be different. He’ll have that yellow nursery.

You tell him, with an astonishing amount of composure, that your parents passed away almost a year ago. They’ve left the care of the family home to you. It’s quite an undertaking— large, as it used to host all manner of aunt and uncle and cousin generations ago. But now, people are in the spirit of moving far away. Old wounds and grudges, new opportunities. Your parents had their own issues conceiving— leaving you an only child.

Gaz has his family to go home to, so does Soap. No one knows what Ghost does, but everyone suspects he follows Soap home for the holidays. Price has been invited time and time again, but always politely refuses. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the dream out of his reach.

But you tell him this will be your first holiday alone in the house, and that you need him. You don’t know if you can bear the silence for the season. Not to mention all of the upkeep you’re behind on. He figures it’s as good a place to be as any, and he’s the type who needs his hands busy to find any peace.

He falls in love with your old place. Sure, the bannisters could do with being refinished, a bit of carpeting could come up, a few fixtures are spotty— but it’s a beautiful place. Still very much full of love and warmth, the traces of you and your little family are everywhere. In the tarnished silver picture frames, the fraying knitted potholders, the penciled in height markings at the kitchen door.

On the tour, he’s stopped dead in his tracks at one open door. Faded yellow walls, slats of chestnut. A crib.

You explain to him that it used to be your nursery. It had been your mother’s, too, and many more. They kept it perfectly in tact when you’d grown up and moved into another room, hoping that they’d give you a little sibling. The day never came. You’re wondering yourself what to do with it— your career hasn’t left you with much time or appetite for romance. There’s a stinging sadness dripping from your words like lemon juice. You admit that you suspect this family, once monumental, will end with you— the house passed to someone who will strip off the carved filigrees of the stair railing, throw white paint over all of the walls, and put grey vinyl over the hardwood. That is, if they don’t just tear it down. Land could be divided up into a few new apartment units.

You’re barely listening to yourself talk— just ambling along, as if you haven’t just revealed to John Price what his life’s been leading up to all this time.

[lazysoulwriter]

holy fire - rafe cameron.

---

Rafe Cameron always thought he had you figured out. You were sweet. Soft-spoken. A little bratty sometimes, sure, but never truly mean. Never someone who would push him past his limits. His cute little girlfriend. His pretty, delicate thing.

So when he muttered, exasperated, "Can you stop being a bitch for one second?"

Oh.

He had no fucking idea.

The shift in you was immediate. Instantaneous. Like a switch had been flipped, like something dark and ancient had been stirred awake inside you. It was in the way your spine straightened, the way your chin lifted just slightly, the way your lips parted in a soundless breath—before curling into something he had never seen before.

Not a smile. Not quite.

More like the promise of a reckoning.

You stepped forward. He stepped back.

And then you laughed. Low. Cold. Devoid of warmth.

"You think I’m a bitch?" Your voice was too calm, too measured, a deadly contrast to the fury burning in your eyes. "Rafe—I’ve been nice. You don’t even know the fucking half of it."

His jaw clenched. He had never seen you like this before. Not really.

"You throw a tantrum the second something doesn’t go your way, whine like a spoiled little trust fund brat, and then turn around and call me a bitch?" Your brows lifted, mocking. "Oh, no, baby. No. You’re confused. You don’t know what being a bitch really looks like."

His throat bobbed.

"You’re so used to people catering to you, huh? Used to everyone letting you get away with your little moods, your little outbursts. Used to people folding the second you get angry." You took another step forward. He barely noticed his back hit the wall. "You think you’re intimidating? You’re not. You’re just a boy who was never told ‘no’ enough times."

Rafe blinked. He was listening—really listening—but his body was reacting to something else entirely. His pulse was racing, blood running hot, an unfamiliar tightness coiling in his stomach.

Because you weren’t just mad. You were magnificent.

"You act like you’re untouchable, like you own everything in your orbit. But Rafe, let me make one thing crystal fucking clear to you—"you don’t own me."

His breath hitched.

"I let you have me. I decide how this goes. And if you ever, ever talk to me like that again—" you leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, "I will burn you to the fucking ground."

Silence.

Thick. Charged. Suffocating.

Rafe couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t the one with the power. He wasn’t the one who held control in the palm of his hand.

You did.

And fuck—

Fuck, he was obsessed.

His lips parted, words failing him. His body had its own ideas, already reaching for you, fingers itching to touch, to grab, to worship.

A slow, delirious grin spread across his face. "Holy shit."

Your glare sharpened. "What?"

He exhaled a laugh, eyes raking over you with something dangerously close to reverence. "You’re fucking gorgeous when you’re mad."

The sheer audacity. The absolute nerve.

You could kill him. You really could.

But before you could spit another insult, before you could shove him away and leave him stewing in his own mess, Rafe grabbed you. Rough. Desperate. His hands curled around your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks, and then his mouth was on yours.

It wasn’t a kiss—it was a collision.

Teeth clashing, lips bruising, his breath ragged as he devoured every ounce of rage still burning off you. You made a noise—part frustration, part something else—and your fingers curled into his shirt, yanking him closer as if you wanted to fight and kiss him at the same time.

Good. Because so did he.

His grip was greedy, possessive, one hand slipping to your throat, the other pressing against the small of your back, crushing you against him. You could feel the way his heart was racing, the way he was breathing like he had just run miles, like he was completely, utterly wrecked by you.

And when you bit his lip—hard—he groaned, half in pain, half in something darker.

"Fuck," he panted against your mouth. "Do it again."

And you did.

Because you might not belong to him, but right now?

He definitely belonged to you.

---

[rizzanon]

07-3 | SNEAKY LINK?

m.list | prev | next

Your face was burning.

Not from anger. Not from shame.

But from sheer, secondhand embarrassment.

Because what the hell was that?

You had just—what, snapped at Tim? And not in the normal, passive-aggressive, “I’m going to make this as difficult as possible for you” kind of way. 

No. You had gone dramatic. 

Full “No, Tim. Don’t. I’m not here to listen to whatever you have to say” levels of dramatic. Like you were starring in some self-indulgent soap opera about betrayal and lost trust.

And then, because that wasn’t enough, you had kept going.

“The least you can do after following me like this is help out with the kids with your friends.”

Like you were some righteous saint, personally assigning him his penance.

And then, to top it all off—

“You don’t have to bother yourself with me anymore. I’ll make sure of that.”

You’ll make sure of that.

You’ll make sure of that?

Make sure of that how?

What were you going to do, take out a restraining order? Get a new identity? Flee to Europe?

Who did you think you were?

God, the moment you had walked away, the sheer mortification had hit you like a brick wall. You had barely managed to keep yourself from cringing so hard you collapsed in on yourself like a dying star.

And now here you were, sitting in some abandoned corner of the orphanage’s yard, forcibly repressing every memory of the last ten minutes before you actually had a stroke.

You inhaled sharply, running a hand down your face.

No. You couldn’t afford to let this mess with your head.

Not right now.

Because you had work to do.

Mrs. Cole was out on errands. At least, that’s what you had overheard from one of the staff members you’d befriended. If there was ever a time to do some snooping, it was now.

You just needed to—

“Wow. You look like you just had the worst conversation of your life.”

Your entire body tensed.

Because of course.

Of course.

Slowly, you turned your head—only to be met with the sight of none other than Conner Kent standing a few feet away, arms crossed, an easy grin playing at his lips.

Because apparently, the universe hated you.

For a moment, you just stared at him, trying to gauge what he wanted, the sarcasm practically dripping from your voice. “Finally making use of that superhearing of yours, huh?”

Kon’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Only when it’s worth it,” he said, tilting his head slightly, clearly intrigued.

“You looked like you were about to burst into flames back there. Just thought I’d check in on you.”

Of course he noticed that.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Well, you checked in. You can go now.”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “Not even a ‘thank you’ for my concern? Cold.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away. “Go bother someone else.”

“Nah.” Kon said simply, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer to you. He plopped down beside you in that effortlessly casual way of his, as though it was totally normal for him to invade your space like this. “I’m good, thanks.”

You sighed. Loudly.

Because of course he wasn’t going to leave.

Of all the people to find you, it just had to be him.

You and Kon had never really been close.

You’d only ever known him as Tim’s best friend. Tim’s partner-in-crime. Tim’s “I’m going to try and clone you 99 times because I have attachment issues” best friend. The guy who didn’t really fit into your orbit. But now, here he was, standing right in front of you, apparently more interested in whatever you were doing than the kids in the yard.

Other than a handful of stakeouts and a few missions where you’d been forced to work together, you had barely interacted.

And yet, somehow, somehow, he was the one who had found you.

You were already trying to fix things in your head, and now Kon—Kon, of all people—had decided to join you for the pity party.

Fantastic.

You exhaled sharply. “If you’re just here to talk, don’t bother. I’m not in the mood.”

Kon tilted his head. “Not in the mood? Or trying to be sneaky?”

Your fingers twitched.

Because that was dangerously close to being an actual observation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said flatly.

Kon hummed. “Sure you don’t.”

You shot him a warning look. “Are you done?”

“Not really.”

You sighed again. “Then what do you want?”

Kon grinned. “Needed a break. The kids get exhausting after a while.”

That, at least, was something you could understand.

You huffed, shaking your head. “Yeah. I don’t know how the others do it.”

“Right?” Kon groaned, dropping down to sit beside you. “One Bart is enough. A whole room of them? No, thanks.”

That caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected Kon to be so honest about his frustration. And, to be honest, you felt it too. You let out a soft, surprised chuckle, a real one.

It was soft. Brief.

But Kon heard it.

And when you glanced at him, he was staring.

Brows slightly raised, lips parted just a fraction.

Like he had just witnessed a goddamn miracle.

You raised an eyebrow, suddenly wondering what had caused the shift in his mood.  “What?”

Kon blinked, then grinned. “So even you can laugh, huh?”

You deadpanned. “What, am I not allowed to?”

Kon held his hands up. “No, no. Laugh all you want. Just thought you’d be more of a carbon copy of your pops.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. It was like a sharp stab to the gut. You weren’t sure why, but it made you feel something close to irritation. 

And without thinking—

“Don’t compare me to him.”

Kon froze.

You weren’t angry, per se.

But there was a sharpness to your voice that hadn’t been there before.

A warning.

Kon, to his credit, immediately backtracked. “Right. My bad.”

And just like that, he dropped it, his face shifting to one of genuine apology as he raised his hands in defeat.

No jokes. No teasing.

Just a simple, straightforward apology.

That… was unexpected.

You glanced at him, considering. Then, reluctantly, you decided to cut him some slack.

You stood up from your crouched position, brushing the dirt off your pants. “Well, I’ve got work to do.”

Kon looked at you, mildly confused. “Work?”

You gave him a pointed look. “Staff needs help around here. I’ve got my hands full.”

Which was true—on the surface. You had offered to help out with some of the administrative tasks the orphanage had, but in reality, your purpose was entirely different. You had to move, to snoop. Mrs. Cole would be out for a while, and you needed that time.

Kon’s brow furrowed slightly. “I’ll tag along.”

“No.”

Kon blinked. “No?”

“No.” You said it too quickly, too firmly, and you knew it.

Kon squinted at you, eyes narrowing with exaggerated suspicion. “Aww, why not? Thought you’d be grateful to get some help around here. After all, isn’t that what you wanted Tim to do?”

Your stomach dropped.

Of course, he’d heard that.

Of course, with his super hearing, he’d caught every single word.

You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, even as your mind raced for an out. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

Kon grinned, leaning back against the courtyard railing with all the ease of someone who had all the time in the world. “Nope.”

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your temple.

Kon, still lounging like he owned the place, tilted his head at you. “So, are you gonna let me help you out, or—”

“I like to work alone,” you cut in, shutting him down before he could finish.

And then, before he could argue, before he could get another teasing word in, you turned on your heel and walked off, heading straight into the orphanage building.

You didn’t look back.

But you could feel his gaze on you the entire way.

For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to follow. You could feel his gaze on your back, but he didn’t move.

Good. You needed him to leave.

Once inside, you made your way toward the front desk, where one of the orphanage staff members—Miss Jenkins—was standing, sifting through some paperwork. She wasn’t as unsettling as Mrs. Cole, but she was efficient, always delegating tasks to whoever was willing to help.

You cleared your throat, catching her attention. “Miss Jenkins.”

She looked up, offering a polite smile. “Ah, good timing. I was just about to look for someone to help with some tasks.”

Perfect. The more she trusted you, the easier it would be to sneak around later. You forced a pleasant expression, nodding. “I can help.”

Miss Jenkins looked relieved. “Great. There are some supplies that need organising in the storage room—”

A sudden weight landed on your shoulder.

You stiffened instantly.

You knew who it was before you even turned your head.

Because of course.

Of course.

Slowly, almost dreading what you’d see, you glanced to the side—only to be met with the insufferably smug face of none other than Conner Kent, grinning down at you like he had just won something.

And technically, he had.

“So,” he drawled, his arm still slung casually over your shoulder, “what are we helping out with?”

You have got to be kidding me.

You just stared at him.

Flabbergasted.

Because what part of “I like to work alone” had been unclear?

You were sure you had said it clearly. Firmly. Finally.

And yet, here he was.

Looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Miss Jenkins, completely unaware of the silent war you were now fighting, simply smiled. “Oh, perfect! That makes things easier.”

No, it does not, you thought, barely restraining the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

You wanted to strangle him.

But you couldn’t.

Kon was watching you expectantly, clearly waiting for you to argue.

To fight him on this.

To give him some reaction he could latch onto, poke at, use as an excuse to keep going.

And you refused to give him that satisfaction.

So you swallowed your frustration, inhaled sharply, and turned back to Miss Jenkins.

You forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding as if nothing was wrong. “Yeah,” you said, voice strained. “Great.”

Miss Jenkins handed you a list of things to check, still clearly pleased by the unexpected extra help. “If I’m not around, just put the list back here when you’re done.”

“Got it.”

If she noticed the way your voice was slightly strained, she didn’t comment on it. She just nodded, already moving back to her paperwork.

That was your cue to leave.

You turned on your heel and walked briskly down the hall, doing your best to ignore the very solid, very annoying presence that was now trailing after you.

And, to his credit, Kon didn’t say anything.

Not right away.

He just kept up easily, hands tucked into his pockets, his usual air of relaxed confidence somehow making it even more obvious that he was enjoying himself.

You could feel it.

The sheer smugness radiating off him.

It was unbearable.

The second Miss Jenkins was out of eyeshot, you grabbed Kon by the arm and dragged him toward the nearest empty hallway, shoving him against the wall.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, voice low but sharp.

“What are you doing?”

You clenched your teeth. “I asked first.”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “Look, I know I might be a hot hunk”—

You rolled your eyes. Seriously.

Kon chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean I’m dumb. I know you’re up to something.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes. “So, what if I am? Are you going to snitch?”

Kon pretended to think. But you knew from one look that he was only playing with you.

“No. Never. As long as you let me join in on whatever it is you’re planning to do.”

Damn it, you thought, internally groaning. The last thing you needed was Kon sticking his nose into your business. “Why?” you asked, your voice dripping with exasperation.

Kon shrugged nonchalantly, completely unfazed by your frustration. “Why not?”

You gave him a look. “You’re wasting your time.”

Kon shrugged, his smile still intact. “So? I’ve already given Tim my time and day to spy on you. Might as well use the rest of it on you again.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Not funny.”

Kon sighed dramatically. “Right. Got it. I’m just… offering help, like a good citizen, y’know.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re not a good citizen.”

He gasped, feigning offense. “Wow. Rude.”

You weren’t in the mood for this. “Conner.”

“Call me Kon.”

You sighed sharply, rubbing a hand down your face. “Kon, I swear to—”

“So what exactly are you snooping for?” he interrupted, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Because let’s be honest, you’re not exactly a volunteer type.”

You glared. “And you are?”

He shrugged. “Nope. But I can recognize a lie when I see one.”

You clenched your jaw, mind racing. You had two options: make up some excuse or tell him the truth. Both had risks. If you lied and he caught on, he’d definitely tell Tim. If you told him the truth, there was still a chance he’d tell Tim.

Neither outcome was ideal.

Kon, as if sensing your internal battle, grinned wider. “Man, you’re really overthinking this, huh?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’m considering my options.”

“Options?”

“Yeah. Like whether I should knock you out or just leave you here.”

Kon chuckled. “Right. That’s an option.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, after a beat, Kon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a lower, more curious tone. “Seriously though. What’s going on?”

You studied his face. He wasn’t just messing with you anymore. There was genuine curiosity there. Maybe even concern.

You hesitated. That made it harder to brush him off. Because it didn’t seem like he had any other agenda.

Then, finally, you quietly mutter, “Something isn’t right about this place.”

Kon blinked, the teasing glint in his eyes dimming just a fraction.

You expected him to brush it off, to laugh, to call you paranoid.

Instead, he tilted his head. “Yeah?”

That threw you off. You had expected teasing. Maybe a sarcastic remark. But he wasn’t mocking you. He was listening.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Kon considered that for a moment. Then, with a shrug, he said, “Alright. Guess I’m in.”

You stared. “What?”

His smirk returned. “You heard me.”

It made you pause.

“You believe me?” You asked slowly.

Kon blinked. “Yeah?”

You frowned. “Just like that?”

“Just like what?”

“You don’t think I’m being paranoid or overreacting?”

Kon shrugged. “If there’s one thing I learned after working with Tim and you Bats, it’s to trust your instincts. Because somehow, for some godforsaken reason, you guys are always right.”

You froze.

The way he said Bats. Like it still applied to you.

Like you were still one of them.

You weren’t Batgirl anymore. You weren’t—one of them anymore.

You swallowed, staring at Kon’s face, but he wasn’t looking at you like he’d said something strange. He wasn’t looking at you with pity either, or like he was trying to backpedal. He’d said it so naturally, so easily, like it was a simple fact.

Your throat felt tight. 

You looked away. 

“You do know I’m not Batgirl anymore, right?” Your voice came out quieter than you intended, and you hated how it sounded—how it almost wavered.

You saw Kon hesitate, as if trying to find the right words to say.

“Yeah. I heard.”

You waited. 

Waited for the inevitable Why? that always followed.

But it never came.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t press.

Just accepted it.

Your brows furrowed slightly, caught off guard.

“You’re not gonna ask why I quit?”

Kon shrugged. “Nope.”

And that… that was surprising.

You blinked. “…Why?”

His smirk softened, losing its usual cockiness. Just a fraction. “Because if you wanted to tell me the reason, you’d do so without any prompting.”

You stared.

Something deep twisted in your chest.

That was—unexpected.

People always asked.

Over and over, like they needed to hear you say it out loud.

But Kon…

He just accepted it.

Like he didn’t need an explanation.

Like your choices were yours.

You had no idea what to do with that.

Your throat felt tight again, and you cleared it quickly, shifting your weight like that would somehow shake off the sudden heaviness in your chest. “Well. Uh. Thanks, I guess.”

Kon’s grin returned in full force, his usual playful energy slipping back into place. “Anytime.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite shake the feeling in your chest, like something had settled in there, unfamiliar and warm.

Pushing past it, you nodded toward the hallway. “Come on. We have an orphanage to snoop through.”

Kon chuckled, pushing off the wall with ease and falling into step beside you. “Lead the way, not-Batgirl.”

You shot him a look, but he only smirked wider, clearly enjoying himself.

The search was… frustrating.

You and Kon had started with the staff rooms, slipping through the halls unnoticed, careful not to make a sound.

But there was nothing.

No weird documents, no strange behavior from the staff, no hidden files. The most suspicious thing you found was an outdated carton of milk in the break room fridge.

Then you moved onto Mrs. Cole’s office, lingering outside the door, waiting for the perfect moment.

“Seriously, what are we looking for?” Kon muttered beside you, shifting his weight.

“Anything suspicious,” you whispered back.

Kon snorted. “Right. Because that narrows it down.”

You shot him a look before cracking the door open and slipping inside, Kon following behind you.

Mrs. Cole’s office was surprisingly neat. A single desk sat in the center, with a few filing cabinets lined up against the walls. Everything was orderly. A little too orderly.

Kon leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching as you surveyed the room. “Alright, detective, what’s the plan?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just—check the drawers.”

Kon gave you a lazy salute before crouching down and yanking one open. Meanwhile, you moved toward the filing cabinets, quickly skimming the labels.

Most of them were standard. Financial records, employee files, supply orders. Nothing remotely suspicious.

Kon, however, had taken a different approach.

“Hey, do you think she’s hiding secret documents under here?” he asked, knocking against the bottom of the drawer like it might pop open to reveal a hidden compartment.

You turned to see him casually opening and shutting random drawers, half-heartedly rummaging through them.

“You’re terrible at this,” you muttered.

“Excuse you,” Kon shot back. “I am fantastic at this.”

You huffed, moving toward the desk instead, running your fingers along the edges. Sometimes people had false bottoms in their drawers, or a safe tucked underneath. Maybe that was the case.

Meanwhile, Kon had apparently decided he was bored of the search already. “I’m just saying, if I were running a shady operation, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave evidence lying around in a desk.”

“Well, lucky for us, not everyone is as smart as you, Kon-El,” you deadpanned.

“Damn right.”

You ignored him, crouching down to check the bottom drawers. One was locked.

You tried tugging on it again. Still locked.

Bingo.

Kon, of course, noticed immediately. “Oho, what’s this?”

“Locked drawer,” You murmured, studying it.

Kon’s grin widened. “Want me to break it open?”

You stared at him. “And make it painfully obvious that someone was snooping around?”

He shrugged. “I could put it back together. Maybe.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “No. No breaking things.”

Kon sighed dramatically but backed off, leaning against the desk again. “So, what’s the plan, oh wise and paranoid one?”

You pulled a bobby pin from your pocket.

Kon’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you seriously about to pick that lock?”

You held up the pin. “Why else would I carry these?”

He looked vaguely impressed. “Okay, I take it back. That’s kinda badass.”

Rolling your eyes, you crouched down and got to work. It wasn’t a particularly difficult lock. You had it undone in less than a minute.

Kon gave a low whistle. “Damn. The big Bat really did teach you guys everything, huh?”

You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you pulled the drawer open, feeling a flicker of anticipation—

Only for it to disappear just as quickly.

The drawer was filled with basic paperwork. A few financial reports. Some school records. Nothing remotely unusual.

You flipped through them quickly, hoping for something, anything that would justify the nagging feeling in your gut. But after a good five minutes of searching…

Nothing.

No hidden records. No cryptic documents. No damning evidence.

Just… nothing.

You sat back on your heels, frustration clawing at your chest.

Kon, peering over your shoulder, let out a low hum. “Sooo, either Mrs. C is really good at covering her tracks, or—”

“There’s nothing to find,” you finished bitterly.

The words tasted wrong in your mouth. Because that wasn’t possible. You knew something was off about this place. You could feel it.

So why wasn’t there anything here?

Your mind started spiraling. Had you misread the situation? Had you let paranoia cloud your judgment? Were you just wasting your time—wasting Kon’s time—chasing after nothing? Just because of something you conjured up in your mind?

Your fingers curled into a fist.

Then—

A warm hand suddenly landed on your shoulder.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts as Kon gave you a small, reassuring squeeze.

“You’re spiraling,” he said simply.

You stared at him, caught off guard.

He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t mocking.

He was just… grounding you.

You swallowed, exhaling slowly. “I just—” You hesitated, struggling to put it into words. “I know something’s wrong here, Kon.”

Kon nodded, like he believed you without question. “So, we’ll keep looking.”

You frowned. “Even though we just found nothing?”

“Yeah,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “If you still feel like something’s off, then I’ll help you figure it out.”

You blinked. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

You hesitated. 

It was stupid.

This was stupid.

You should refuse. You should just let this go.

You shouldn’t drag him into this.

But…

Maybe—just maybe—it’d be nice to have help.

Without it feeling like you were being dumb. Weak.

Without feeling like someone who wasn’t capable of doing things on her own.

Without the skepticism, the side-eyes, the exasperated sighs.

Kon wasn’t doing that. He might be humoring you, but he wasn’t questioning your decisions, either. He was just… there. Standing beside you, unwavering.

You let out a slow breath, forcing yourself to unclench your fists.

“Alright,” you muttered. “Fine.”

You looked up at him. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Kon grinned. “Of course you do. I am pretty great.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up. “Come on. Let’s wrap this up before someone finds us.”

The two of you made quick work of putting everything back in place, slipping out of the office unnoticed.

And you guys quickly cleaned up and organised the storage room, before rejoining the others in the courtyard.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It was so typical. So stupid. You had thought—no, you had to believe—that something was off about this place. That there was something hiding beneath its surface. But now, after sifting through Mrs. Cole’s meticulous paperwork and pristine office, as well as clean fhe storage rooms and found absolutely nothing, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were just seeing shadows.

Or worse… you were going insane.

It is plausible. After all, you somehow came back to life and you still don’t know how or why—

“Looks like we’re back to square one.”

Kon’s voice was casual, the kind of tone that suggested he wasn’t bothered by the dead-end. But then again, he always had that air about him. Like everything bounced off. You watched as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, glancing over at you with a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His eyes weren’t teasing. He wasn’t giving you that cocky grin. Instead, there was something else there. Something quieter. Something more… understanding.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to dive into it right now. Maybe you were too tired to unpack the layers of meaning in his expression.

So, you did the next best thing—you rolled your eyes and muttered a half-hearted, “Yeah, no kidding.”

Kon chuckled softly, a little sound that felt almost like a weight lifted from your chest. It was strange how much he could make you feel lighter, even in the most absurd situations.

Maybe that was why Tim kept him around. As his friend.

You shook the thought away, rubbing your forehead as if that could erase the last few hours of frustration. It wasn’t his job to take away your weight.

“We’ll find something,” Kon said, voice steady, though there was a hint of something that sounded like reassurance. “We just gotta keep looking. No need to make it harder than it is.”

You exhaled slowly, glancing at him. “We, huh? You were really serious about helping me out with this?”

Kon shrugged, his smile returning, albeit a little more teasing. “Of course! What do you take me for?”

You sighed. “Alright, fine, you win this time, Kent.”

His grin returned, lopsided and teasing. “Damn. Must’ve been hard admitting that, Wayne.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go back to Tim before I decide knocking you out is a viable option.”

Kon smirked but backed away with his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Don’t miss me too much, partner.”

You groaned, shaking your head, and turned on your heel.

You walked back toward the courtyard where your friends are, feeling that ever-present weight of unease still sitting in your chest. But it wasn’t as heavy as before.

Maybe because you weren’t the only one carrying it anymore.

Your friends were scattered, lounging on benches and idly chatting, before you felt it.

A familiar pang in your chest. 

A gut feeling that you knew very well.

Adrien and Caitlyn were already watching you, and it wasn’t a gaze of mere curiosity. No, it was that unmistakable, mischievous glint. The kind that always meant they knew something.

And they did.

“Uh-oh,” Adrien said, his eyes lighting up. “Look who’s back, Caity.”

Caitlyn’s grin was practically ear-to-ear. “Don’t think we didn’t notice who you came back with, hun.”

You couldn’t help the sinking feeling that settled into your stomach. God. You hadn’t even said a word and they were already making assumptions. You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, even though you were already bracing for what was to come.

Adrien raised his eyebrows, a knowing, too-perfect smirk on his face. “What?” He pretended to look innocent. “It’s just funny. You disappearing with Mr Hotshot—and coming back with him. Alone. After what? Hours?”

“We’ve been gone for barely an hour—”

Caitlyn nudged him in the side. “Totally suspicious.”

You tried to hide your irritation. “It’s not like that.” You crossed your arms, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “Kon just helped out with some of the stuff around the orphanage, which is what we’re supposed to do as volunteers by the way.”

“Already calling him by nicknames, eh?” Caitlyn teased, folding her arms and giving you a look.

Ok, this was too much.

“That—“ 

Adrien’s grin widened, impossibly smug. “Uh-huh. Sure. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say something’s going on between you two.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you snapped, but your voice came out sharper than you meant.

That only made them more excited.

“Right.” Adrien’s tone was playful, but there was a sharpness to it, as though he knew exactly what buttons to press. “Then why are you getting all defensive, huh?”

“I’m not defensive.”

“Oh, you so are.” Caitlyn insists, raising a finger to tap her chin. “I think she’s hiding something, Adrien.”

“I’m not—”

As you said it, you turned slightly—and your gaze landed on him.

Kon, who was now on the other side of the courtyard.

Kon, who had somehow gotten himself into what looked like a heated argument with Tim.

Tim, who looked seconds away from beating his ass over something.

 The two of them were practically going toe-to-toe, Kon’s arms crossed and his posture that of someone who didn’t give a damn, while Tim’s posture was stiff with irritation, his words sharp and fast.

Yikes.

And at that exact moment, as if he felt your stare, Kon glanced up—right at you.

You both froze.

The moment your eyes met, something shifted.

His gaze softened, his expression pulling into a quiet smirk. It wasn’t teasing this time. It was something a little… fonder. 

Then, ever so casually, ever so smugly, he winked.

The small, silent gesture hit you like a jolt, making you freeze.

And, with a knowing smirk, he lifted a finger to his lips in a shush motion.

You blinked.

It was a promise.

He wasn’t going to tell Tim.

The thought swirled in your mind as you processed his gesture. Your breath caught in your throat, a small smile curling up your lips before you could stop it.

It was small. Grateful.

A silent thank you.

You dipped your head at him, and he gave you a lazy salute once more before smoothly dodging a half-hearted swipe from Tim.

The moment was fleeting.

But it meant everything.

“Did you fucking see that?”

You whipped your head back toward your friends, but the smile on your face was gone, replaced with a forced indifference. “What?”

Caitlyn gasped. “Conner just winked at you, didn’t he??”

“No.” You were emphatic, trying to brush it off, but it didn’t feel right. You were lying—to them, and to yourself.

“Uh-huh. You’re smiling way too much by the way.”

“Shut up.”

But they weren’t done. They never were.

Adrien leaned forward. “You totally like him, don’t you?”

Before you could answer, there was a sharp cough from behind you, followed by the sound of boots striking the ground.

Damian.

Your stomach dropped.

You barely even noticed him standing beside your friends.

And before you knew, Damian was heading straight for Kon, his eyes narrowed with barely concealed fury.

You could see his fists tightening as he closed the distance, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Kon, oblivious to the brewing storm behind him, was still bantering with Tim. But you could see it in his posture now, that little glint of recognition in his eyes as he noticed Damian’s approach.

RIP.

—

A: “I swear I’ve seen that guy somewhere before.”

“No, you haven’t.”

A: “He kind of looks like Lex Luthor if you squint—“

“Nope. Definitely not.”

Tim was not having a good day.

It had been one of those afternoons where the lines between “whatever” and “I’m about to snap” blurred, and now he was pacing the courtyard, trying to ignore the incessant buzz in his mind. He’d been looking for Kon ever since his argument with you. Well, if he can call it that. 

Cassie and Bart were just a few paces ahead of him, chatting casually, but Tim couldn’t focus on their conversation. Not with Kon completely disappearing out of his sight. He had a bad feeling about it. More than usual. Something about today—about Kon’s behaviour—had felt off. So, Tim just… asked around.

“Hey, Cassie. Bart. Have either of you seen Kon?” Tim asked, his voice tight, trying to keep his growing irritation in check.

Cassie shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes scanning the area. Bart just raised an eyebrow, looking far too innocent, as if he hadn’t been the cause of half of their chaotic antics.

“Nope,” Cassie answered, glancing at Bart, who gave a shrug of his own, and Tim could tell they were both just as clueless as he was.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Where the hell was he?

And then it happened.

There, emerging from the orphanage building, was Kon.

And—what the hell?

You were with him.

Tim’s stomach twisted as his gaze shot to the two of you. You were walking side by side, talking in low tones. A small smile tugged at your lips, a genuine smile, the kind Tim hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

Why were you smiling at him?

Tim’s breath hitched. You looked comfortable—too comfortable. That smile wasn’t something you gave just anyone. It wasn’t something you gave him. So why the hell were you smiling like that at Kon?

A red flag.

The first one of the day. What were you and Kon talking about?

Tim swallowed hard, trying to steady his thoughts. He needed answers. He had to know what the hell was going on. He wished for a moment that he had superhearing, just to catch even the smallest fragment of your conversation. What were you saying to him? What was Kon saying to you? His gaze never left you both. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way you stood there with him, the subtle way you nodded your head as you exchanged words, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His fists clenched, but he stayed silent, watching.

The second you broke away, walking back toward your friends, Kon turned and made his way back toward theirs. And that’s when it hit Tim—he couldn’t let this go.

Tim immediately stepped forward, his feet bringing him toward Kon as he approached the others. There was no more waiting. No more uncertainty. This time, he’d get answers. He had to.

“Kon,” Tim said, his voice edged with irritation, “where the hell did you go? And what were you doing with (Name)?”

Kon’s face was a mask of casual indifference. He leaned against the wall, his posture relaxed, as if the world was his to do with as he pleased. “Oh, I was just helping her out with some cleaning,” Kon said, the words rolling off his tongue as if they were completely innocent. But Tim could see it. He was lying.

That much was obvious.

“Really?” Tim asked, crossing his arms. “Just cleaning? You’re telling me you spent all that time in there just… cleaning?”

Kon shrugged, giving him that easy-going grin that Tim hated so much right now. “Yeah, sure. There was a lot of stuff to organise, so I helped out.”

“Right...”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“Well, yeah,” Cassie added, crossing her arms together. “I bet you guys were doing more than just cleaning.”

And Kon—

Kon just shrugged.

And that itself was an answer.

“What the hell.” Tim snaps, but he immediately was about to interrogate the half-kryptonian full on.

But then he saw it.

Kon’s gaze, drifting elsewhere. His attention shifting. Tim frowned.

Kon wasn’t looking at him anymore. He wasn’t focused on Tim’s interrogation or on his friends. His eyes were elsewhere.

And then, like a slow-motion train wreck, Tim’s gaze followed Kon’s, and his breath caught.

Kon’s eyes were on you.

And your eyes were on him too.

Tim couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in his stomach as he watched Kon wink at you, his expression mischievous, his grin more playful than Tim had ever seen it. But it wasn’t the wink that caught Tim’s attention—it was the damn shush that followed. Kon placed a finger to his lips, and Tim’s world seemed to slow down, his heart beating out of sync with everything else.

What the hell?

And as if that wasn’t bad, you smiled back.

You smiled at Kon. You actually smiled at him, the same smile that you didn’t just give anyone.

Tim’s mind spiraled, crashing into chaos. His thoughts were all over the place, every tiny movement, every subtle glance now magnified in his mind. 

First Damian, now Kon.

Why does it feel like everyone else can move forward with you, but when it’s you and him, it’s always two steps back?

What had he missed? What had happened between you and Kon?

That smile. That damn smile.

He could feel the tension in his chest rising, his hands clenching at his sides, fighting the urge to storm over and demand answers from both of you. Why the hell was he acting like that? What was Kon hiding?

“Yeah, okay, I’m done,” Tim muttered, hands clenched into fists. He took a step forward, his voice tight with something he couldn’t quite place, and definitely didn’t want to admit. “You winked at her.”

Kon chuckled. “What? I think you’re seeing things, Timbo.”

“You winked.” Tim repeated, louder this time, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “What are you guys hiding? What did you two do?” He struggled to find the words, his brain running a mile a minute.

Cassie, sensing TIm’s growing frustration, leaned back on her hands. “Whoa, whoa, hold up. Calm down, Tim, I’m sure they didn’t do anything bad.”

“If it’s nothing bad, Cassie, why isn’t he telling us?” Tim shot back, his voice dripping with exasperation, before his eyes darted over to Kon. 

Kon, predictably, didn’t back down. Instead, he chuckled, clearly enjoying the chaos he was stirring up. “Relax, Tim. We can’t keep secrets now? We were just having fun, alright?” He shot a quick look at Tim’s clenched fists, before shooting him a grin. “How about we all take a chill pill?”

Before Tim could snap back, another voice interrupted him.

“Kent.”

“Oh boy, here we go…” Tim heard Cassie’s sigh. He didn’t even have to turn around to know that Damian Wayne was approaching their group.

The younger boy, clearly agitated, marched over to Kon with an intensity that matched Tim’s own. The way his eyes narrowed, fists clenched at his sides, told Tim everything he needed to know—Damian was pissed.

“Tell me what you did with (Name). Now.”

For the first time in a long while, Tim felt a strange sense of solidarity with Damian. At least someone else was as frustrated as he was. Maybe together, they could pry the truth out of Kon. Maybe, just maybe, they’d get the answers they needed.

Kon barely had a chance to react before Damian was on him, arms crossed, gaze murderous.

“You,” Damian seethed, “are going to tell me what exactly you and she were doing.”

Kon blinked, caught off guard for maybe a second—before his trademark smirk slid into place.

“Oh?” he drawled. “Why do you want to know, Damian?”

Damian’s glare sharpened.

Kon grinned. “What? You jealous?”

Before he could so much as breathe, Damian lunged.

The sky had begun its slow descent into evening, streaked with warm hues of orange and pink as the day at the orphanage came to an end. The kids were beginning to settle down, some still clinging onto the last bits of playtime before dinner. You stood at the entrance of the courtyard, watching as Caitlyn and Adrien said their goodbyes to the kids they’d grown especially fond of over the past few days.

Meanwhile, Tim and his friends, as well as Damian, were nowhere in sight. The last you saw them, you watched Damian pounce on Kon and the rest was a mystery.

Elliot, as usual, was pressed against your side, his small fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. He hadn’t said much in the past few minutes, content just to be next to you, but you knew that look on his face—the gears in his little mind were turning, the questions were forming.

And sure enough—

“Hey,” he started, tilting his head. “Who were those people that came today?”

You froze.

You should’ve expected it. Of course he’d ask—he was an observant kid. He had been there after all, when you confronted Tim and his friends who had been spying on you from the bushes, and brought them in to play with the other kids.

It was a simple question, an innocent one, but something about the way he asked it made your mind stall. Your throat tightened slightly, and you hesitated longer than you should have.

Your mouth opened, then closed again, as you scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t feel like a lie.

“They were… my brother,” you said at last, your voice even, careful. “And his friends.”

Elliot’s eyes widened in excitement. “Oh…! So Tim is your brother too? You have two brothers??”

There was an odd weight to that word—brothers—when spoken so freely by someone else. You hesitated, then gave a slow nod.

“…Yeah, I suppose so.”

You weren’t going to tell him that, technically, you had two other brothers and a sister as well—if you could still call them that.

If they still wanted you to.

If you still wanted to.

If they ever really were that.

But that wasn’t something you could even begin to explain to a kid.

Elliot, blissfully unaware of your inner conflict, perked up at the answer, his excitement growing. “That’s so cool!! I wish I have siblings. The other children here are fun, but it’s not the same as having a brother or sister.”

You exhaled slowly, bracing yourself for the wave of questions.

“Is Tim older or younger than you?”

“Older, by a year.” Not really.

“Wow! So you have an older brother and a younger brother. That’s so cool!”

“There are cooler things, Elliot.”

Elliot giggled, his face lighting up with amusement. “Maybe, but siblings are still cool! Do you guys fight a lot?”

You paused, then snorted. “You have no idea.”

Elliot gasped. “Like, actual fights?”

You hesitated again. “…Something like that.”

“Do they ever fight you?”

“Not physically.”

“Then how do you fight?”

“We… argue.”

He made a face at that, as if arguing was a far less exciting concept. “Oh.”

Before he could go down another rabbit hole of questions, you reached out and ruffled his hair. “Alright, buddy, calm down. Having brothers isn’t always fun.”

Elliot looked genuinely confused by that. “Really?”

“Really.”

He furrowed his brows, then shook his head. “But Tim was real fun today!”

That threw you off.

You blinked at him. “…He was?”

“Yeah!” Elliot nodded enthusiastically. “He helped us build that giant block tower after teatime! And when his friend, the really fast one, accidentally knocked it over, he helped put it back up again—twice! And he did that really cool thing where he guessed all the card matches without looking. How’d he do that? Is he magic?”

You stared at him, your thoughts grinding to a halt.

Tim… did all that?

After everything?

After that whole argument—confrontation you had with him, after storming off on him earlier, after being frustrated, and snappy, and distant—he still… sat with the kids here? He actually did what you told him to do and spent time with them? Helped them?

You weren’t sure why that surprised you. It wasn’t that Tim was heartless or incapable of kindness—but you hadn’t expected this.

Hadn’t expected him to listen to you.

Hadn’t expected him to go out of his way to be there, even in the smallest of ways.

Not after how everything had felt today.

You exhaled slowly, ruffling Elliot’s hair again. “…I see.”

Elliot grinned, pleased with himself, and you offered him a small, fond smile.

“I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself, kid.”

Elliot’s grin grew, and he leaned into your touch, his small head pressing against your palm.

Before you could say anything else, he looked up at you, voice softer this time. “Will Tim and his friends come back?”

Your smile faltered slightly.

You didn’t know how to answer that.

Because what were you supposed to say?

That Tim and his friends did not have any obligation to come again? They had no other reason to come again?

That wasn’t something you could explain to Elliot.

So instead, after a beat of hesitation, you simply said, “When they have time, maybe.”

That was enough for Elliot. He beamed, nodding, before waving excitedly and running off to join the other kids.

You exhaled, watching him go, before turning to find Caitlyn and Adrien walking up to you, both looking entirely too smug.

“You two definitely have favorites,” you accused, crossing your arms.

Adrien scoffed. “We have favorites? That’s rich, coming from you.”

Caitlyn smirked. “Yeah, let’s not forget your little moment with Conner earlier.”

Your expression immediately soured. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Oh, I think we are,” Adrien said, grinning.

“You two are the worst.”

“Love you too.”

You groaned, shaking your head, before clearing your throat. “Anyway—same time tomorrow?”

Caitlyn and Adrien exchanged glances before Caitlyn winced. “Actually… I can’t make it tomorrow. I promised my aunt I’d help out with some stuff in her shop.”

Adrien nodded. “ And I have that to serve detention for that stunt I pulled in Ms H’s class, remember?”

You paused, the answer catching you slightly off guard. “Oh.”

You quickly schooled your expression, nodding in understanding. “Got it.”

A quiet beat passed before Adrien nudged you. “You still gonna come?”

You hesitated. Your eyes flickered back to the orphanage, watching as the kids ran around, playing, laughing—completely oblivious to all the complicated things that sat heavy in your chest.

Your gaze found Elliot again, still smiling, still happy.

“…Yeah,” you said finally, voice softer. “I’ll come.”

The late afternoon sun cast a hazy glow over Gotham, though Jason barely registered it. His focus was on the ongoing call in the earpiece pressed to his ear as he walked, voice low and even.

“So, let me get this straight,” Roy drawled on the other end, the sounds of clanking metal and some kind of electric buzz filtering through the call. “You just finished dealing with a gang shootout last night, probably haven’t slept, definitely haven’t eaten, and instead of—I don’t know—taking a second to breathe like a normal human being, you’re already running off after another lead?”

Jason exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip on his gun as he navigated quieter side of Gotham’s industrial district. “Pretty sure I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“Oh, no, you definitely didn’t. That’s just a fun little bonus,” Roy quipped. “Seriously, Jaybird, do you even know what the word ‘break’ means?”

Jason’s expression remained flat. “Sure. It’s what your bowstring does when you don’t maintain it properly.”

There was a loud clang from Roy’s end. “First of all, rude. Second of all, false. I take excellent care of my bow, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I do!”

Jason chuckled, stepping off the curb and weaving through the alleyways. 

“I just don’t get it,” Roy continued. “You could’ve taken a day off—gone to a bar, watched a movie, literally anything else—but no, here you are, chasing down some random lead for God knows what.”

“It’s not random,” Jason corrected, rounding a corner. “Weapons smuggling. Shipment came in last week, no record of it anywhere. Thought I’d check it out.”

Roy sighed. “And who told you about this?”

“…I have my sources.”

“That’s code for ‘I found it in a back alley conversation, and now I’m running with it,’ isn’t it?”

Jason smirked faintly but didn’t argue. He had more important things to focus on—like the unmarked warehouse he was now approaching.

“I gotta go,” he said, tone shifting back to business. “I’ll check in later.”

Roy groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Try not to get shot, explode, or mysteriously disappear, alright?”

“No promises.”

Jason hung up.

The warehouse was quiet. Too quiet. No guards, no movement. Just the eerie stillness of a setup that was either abandoned or a trap.

Jason slipped inside through a window, boots making barely a sound as he landed. 

Inside, it was dim, dust motes swirling in the filtered sunlight. Crates were stacked haphazardly, some half-open, revealing stolen tech and firearms. Jason moved silently, boots making no sound against the concrete as he picked through the scene, scanning the contents—stolen tech, modified weapons, and—

Jason frowned.

There was something off about these. They weren’t standard black-market stock. They looked… almost gimmicky. Like they weren’t meant for your average arms dealer.

His fingers barely brushed against one of the devices when—

Click.

A sharp hiss filled the air.

Before Jason could react, a fine, invisible gas burst from the crate, dispersing into the air around him.

Jason recoiled, but it was too late.

His throat tightened. His head swam. His pulse spiked in alarm as a heavy, sluggish sensation crawled over his limbs.

His breath hitched. His vision blurred. His limbs felt like lead.

Shit.

Jason shoved back, forcing himself toward the exit, but his body was already betraying him. His head swam, nausea curling in his gut as he stumbled out onto the street.

His nearest safehouse wasn’t far. Just a few blocks. If he could just—

He barely made it past the first alley before his legs buckled.

His body was already shutting down on him.

Jason lurched against the nearest wall, breath coming shallow, mind fogging with every passing second. He forced himself to stay upright, but his body wasn’t listening anymore.

His vision tilted.

His knees hit the pavement, the rough brick of the alleyway biting into his shoulder as he slumped against it, legs giving out beneath him.

His mind fogged, the city sounds around him distant, muffled.

He barely registered the way his breathing slowed, the weight of unconsciousness dragging him under.

He gritted his teeth, trying to fight the darkness clawing at the edges of his mind.

Stay awake. Move.

But his limbs were numb. His breath was shallow.

His fingers twitched toward his comm—

And then—

Darkness.

The walk to the orphanage was supposed to be uneventful.

But the moment you turned down your usual route, something in your gut twisted.

You hesitated mid-step.

It wasn’t a noise, not anything obvious. Just an instinct, a quiet pull at the edges of your awareness. A feeling you couldn’t quite shake.

Your fingers curled at your sides.

Ignore it? Keep going?

The orphanage was only a few more blocks. If you were lucky, Elliot and the other kids would be outside playing already, ready to bombard you with their usual chaos.

…And yet.

Your feet had already shifted before you made the decision. You veered left, cutting through an alley that wasn’t part of your usual route.

The air here was heavier, the city quieter. Not unusual for Gotham, but enough to put you on edge.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.

But it wasn’t—

A figure slumped against the brick wall.

You stopped short, breath catching in your throat. For a second, your brain struggled to process what you were seeing.

Leather jacket. Boots. Black hair complementing the dark red of his helmet—

No.

Not his helmet.

It was off, discarded a few feet away like he hadn’t had the strength to hold onto it. His head was tilted to the side, eyes barely open, unfocused.

Jason.

lololol finally part 3 and end of chapter 7 🤗 (don’t hate me for the cliffhanger, but its pretty obvious that Jason and reader are going to interact in chapter 8 so stay tuned for that emotional turmoil) posting this before attending my vb training (yes i’m fasting and still have to attend vb training 🥲—tho i get to chill if i’m tired so that’s ok)

taglist is closed‼️

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[p1astr81]

sidelines - op81

In which: Oscar sits on the sidelines and watches as you cycle through terrible dates until he’s had enough and can’t stand by any longer.

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Warnings: implied smut but no actual smut (it does get a bit heated though), bit of angst if you could call it that

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

You’d rather be anywhere else.

The guy in front of you continued to talk about himself. You were only half-listening, giving uninterested hums every now and then. Given that he still hasn’t noticed, it was safe to say this was yet another shitty date.

It became a shitty date pretty quick, actually. Only about ten minutes after you sat down, you realized it was another waste of a Friday night. He hasn’t asked you a single question in the hour you’ve been sitting at the restaurant,

Most of the time, your mind had been on Oscar.

The McLaren driver lived next door to you. He introduced himself a year ago when he moved in. Ever since, you’ve clicked. He became your best friend very quickly.

In anticipation that you would come back with another date night horror story, he planned a movie night to make you feel better.

“…and I’ve been getting into formula one.”

This time, your hum was very much interested. You sat up. “Really? Isn’t it such an interesting sport?” You sat forward in attention.

“It’s crazy how their engines only last five races.” He commented.

You cocked your head to the side. “Hm? They last more than that. At least 6. 5 would be like if someone didn’t take care of their engine.” You laughed to lessen the blow of the correction.

He laughed to mock you.

“No. They only last five races. Trust me, hon.”

۶ৎ

Oscar jumped when you entered his apartment, slamming the door. He’d accidentally fallen asleep waiting for you.

“Oh my god! I cant do it anymore! Oscar-“ you stopped short, witnessing his messy hair and tired eyes. “I’m sorry. You were sleeping.” You frowned, pointing out the obvious.

Oscar smiled, scooting over to make room for you and he patted the couch next to him. “Doesn’t matter. I wanna hear about this tragic date.” He joked.

He knew you came straight from it. You were still in your little black dress, but your heels were given up in favor of more comfortable sandals which you kicked off at the door.

You took up his offer, lying with your head in his lap. “So fucking stupid, guys are.” You huffed, then made contact with Oscar’s amused and pitying eyes. “Not you. You’re an exception.” You smiled.

“So what was it this time?” His hand found your arm, his thumb gliding over the sleeves of your dress.

“He just talked about himself the entire fucking time. He didn’t even ask me a single question about me. It was all about him.” You seethed. “Oh! And he tried to correct me about how long your car’s engine lasts.” You laughed bitterly at the memory. “Self-centered dick, honestly.” You muttered, playing with the ring on your index finger.

Oscar squeezed your arm. “I’m sorry this one didn’t work out either.” He said with full sincerity. Though he didn’t really mean it. Of course, he was sorry that she had to endure such shitty men, but he wasn’t sorry that she hadn’t found one she liked.

It meant she was still single. Still available for whenever Oscar got the balls to make a move.

A couple months ago, he asked Lando how to make a move. He laughed when Oscar told him that it was his next door neighbor that he was eyeing. Knowing you weren’t even close to being considered a celebrity—you were an event planner—Lando said simply, “You’re a Formula one driver. If that doesn’t win her over, I don’t know what will.”

Even so, you were you. Not to mention that he was terrified of becoming another one of your horror stories.

A frown played on your lips. “I think I should just give up.” You mumbled.

“Hey,” Oscar started, lifting your chin, causing you to look up at him. “Don’t say that. The perfect guy is out there somewhere.”

You scowled. “I think it’s your fault.” You accused.

He blinked. “Why do you say that?”

You sat up and stared at him with wild eyes. “‘Cause you’re perfect. You listen. You ask me about my life and not just talk about yourself. You’re so fucking sweet and kind and funny and it’s so infuriating because I’m forever comparing people to you now, and if you didn’t introduce yourself when you moved in then it wouldn’t be such a problem. Then I could settle for some duche just for the sake of dating someone.” You rambled, crazed gestures with your hands. You nearly hit him in the head at one point.

And after all that, all Oscar could offer was a very confused, “sorry,” because he couldn’t stop thinking about how you described him.

Sweet, kind, funny. You compared other guys to him.

He confessed this to Lando the next time they saw each other.

“Mate! Make your move already! She so obviously likes you!” The curly haired brit exclaimed.

But Oscar still wasn’t sure. “I don’t think so. I think she meant it in a friendly way.”

“Oscar, she is literally using you to set the bar for her dates. I don’t know how much more obvious this can get.” He replied, a thick layer of annoyance to his voice.

Oscar sighed, self doubt creeping through. “But she-“

Lando groaned. “Oh my god, if you don’t make your move, you’re going to lose her anyway.”

۶ৎ

You’re going to lose her.

Lando’s words rung through Oscar’s ears.

He was sat on the couch with your body pressed up against his side and your head on his shoulder. He observed your relaxed face, unaware that you could see it in your peripheral vision.

Inclining your head to look at him, you raised a brow. “Everything okay?” Your soft voice, so concerned.

It brought a small, warm smile to his face. “Mhm.” He hummed, nodding.

A smile creeped up on your own lips. “Okay.” Your hand snaked down his arm, lacing your fingers together. The warmth of his hand, just slightly bigger than your own, brought comfort. “If you’re sure.” You turned to face the television once more.

The silence was only short before Oscar spoke up. “When’s your next date?” He paused, continuing when you looked up at him once more, a spark of hope in your eyes that he didn’t pick up on in the dim lighting of the room. “Just so I can stock up on ice cream.” His words, unknowingly, blew out the spark.

“I don’t know.” A deep sigh. “I know I’ve said it before, but I really think I’m giving up this time.”

Oscar said nothing. He’d wanted to tell you that was a great idea, but perhaps it wasn’t right.

“Can I use your shower?” You asked.

Oscar blinked, thrown off by the change of topic. He knew you liked his shower better than your own. His had an upgraded shower head. “Yeah. That’s fine. Do you want to borrow some clothes or-“

“Yeah sure.” You smiled. “Your hoodies are more comfortable anyway.” You commented as he walked away.

While you showered, Oscar remained on the couch, unable to tune out your humming to a song stuck in your head. Not that he minded. It was quite a comforting sound, but he felt a bit creepy listening to you shower.

When you returned to the living room about twenty minutes later, Oscar was thankful the room was near pitch black. His face was on fire seeing you in his hoodie, and it only got worse when you cuddled back up next to him.

And something else popped up, too.

Eyes squeezed shut, he tried his best to will it away, thinking about anything else. That was impossible when he could feel your hot breath on his neck, and when his nose was being invaded by the sweet scent of your shampoo—because he made sure it was always available to you whenever you felt like stealing his shower.

Christ, he was going insane. He couldn’t even tell you what the movie was about if you asked him.

He could only pray you wouldn’t notice.

And you didn’t, because you’d fallen asleep in his arms, and he hadn’t noticed until an hour later until the movie’s credits began to roll.

He shook your shoulder. “Hey, movie is over. You wanna stay here? Or go back to your own? Whatever you want is fine for me?”

You stretched and groaned. “Should probably go back.” You mumbled and stood. You stretched once more to wake yourself up.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You gave him a tired smile that softened his heart.

“Yeah.”

You got two steps before your movements were inhibited.

A hand around your waist, yanking you backwards. And then a pair of soft, warm lips on yours.

Taken by surprise, you hummed against his lips. Oscar being Oscar, took it the wrong way.

He pulled away, started stumbling over his words, backed up, stared at the floor in shame. “I’m- I’m so sorry. I should have-“

“I’m shocked it took you that long.” You scoffed, pulling him back into you and kissing him hard. All that built up tension bursted open, shifting the atmosphere in a complete 180.

His arm snaked around your back and pulled you flush with his chest. You gasped when you felt his semi-hard pushing against your leg.

The both of you tumbled down onto the couch with you landing on top, Oscar’s hands landing on your waist. Oscar groaned when your clothed core brushed the tent in his pants.

You whispered out a curse.

Oscar took control, gripping your hips and forcing you to brush against his growing tent once more.

“If I knew you wanted me this bad, I would’ve done something about it sooner.” You panted into his mouth. “Get me out of these clothes already.” You kissed him again, addicted to the taste of his lips.

He pulled back. “This isn’t…“ he panted, unable to catch his breath. “This isn’t why I kissed you.”

“Oh I know,” you groaned, diving back in for another taste of his lips. “Makes you ten times hotter.” He swallowed your confession as you spoke it into his mouth.

He was losing it under you as you ground against him, fully clothed like two horny teenagers. His brain was going foggy, every thought of his centered around you.

Well, except for one. “Lando won’t believe it.” He muttered.

You stopped your ministrations, pulling back to stare at his blissed-out face. And you hadn’t even properly touched him. “Oscar.” Your voice demanded his focus.

He tried his best to focus on your face. He really did. But pleasure was overtaking his brain and his eyes were glossed over.

“Awe.” You clicked your tongue. “I was going to make fun of you for thinking about a man right now, but it seems not much thinking it going on in that pretty head of yours at all.” You teased while placing kisses all over his face and neck, running your hands along his chest underneath his shirt.

“Please.” He whispered.

Usually, Oscar wasn’t one to take on the submissive role. But boy was he down bad for you.

He felt your breathy chuckle against his neck and he gripped onto your hips harder. “Since you asked so nicely,” you tore off his shirt, ogling at his toned chest. “Fucking hell you’re fit.”

The compliment brought out his confidence and a sneaky grin. He didn’t even ask you before looping his hands around your knees and picking you up.

“Let’s take this somewhere more proper, yeah?” You melted under his husky, needy voice.

۶ৎ

“Oscah! You finally grew some balls!?” Lando greeted. Oscar and yourself were trying to kill time by hanging around the hospitality.

You furrowed your brows, looking between your best friend boyfriend and his teammate.

“And I suppose you’re going to take credit for it, too?” Oscar said, unenthused.

“Oh hell yeah.” Lando laughed. “If I remember, I’m the one who told you to go for it.” He pulled a chair up and sat with you guys.

It finally clicked. “Oh, that’s what you meant by ‘Lando won’t believe it’.”

Lando stared before filling in the context on his own. He turned to Oscar. “Mate.” He said, a tone that told him to be serious.

Now red in the face, Oscar took your hand. “Seems we have somewhere to be right now.” He dismissed, but Lando’s laughter followed you out of the hospitality.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSTALKERㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Dick Grayson x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How It's Like Having Him As Your Stalker?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You never noticed him at first.

Which was strange, really. Because Dick was a presence—magnetic, charming, always the kind of guy who could steal attention in any room, even when he wasn’t trying.

But with you? He liked to stay hidden. Lurking in the shadows. Watching.

At first, it was innocent (or so he told himself). He noticed you at a coffee shop one day, lost in a book, chewing on the end of your pen as you scribbled something in a notebook. He found himself drawn to the little things—the way you furrowed your brows when concentrating, the way you smiled at something on your phone, the soft way you carried yourself. It was just curiosity at first. That’s all.

Then he saw you again. And again. And suddenly, he was seeing you everywhere.

It became a habit, a compulsion. He memorized your routine like it was a mission. When you got coffee. What time you left work. What stores you liked to browse in. He told himself he was just making sure you were safe—because Gotham was dangerous, right? A girl like you, alone? Vulnerable? It only made sense that he’d keep an eye on you.

Then he got closer.

It started small. Brushing past you on the subway, close enough to inhale the scent of your shampoo. Sitting near you in a cafe, pretending to be busy on his phone while he listened to the way you spoke. Learning your favorite drink, so he could leave it waiting for you at the counter when you arrived—anonymously, of course. You’d glance around, confused, but never knew it was him.

You weren’t even aware that he was already in your apartment.

Not when you were there, of course—he’d never scare you like that. But while you were out? He’d slip inside with an ease that almost disappointed him (you really needed better locks). He never took anything—he just… looked. Examined the little pieces of your life. The books stacked beside your bed. The jewelry you left on the dresser. The clothes draped over the chair, still carrying the ghost of your body’s warmth.

He touched them sometimes. Ran his fingers over the fabric. Just to feel close to you.

The obsession grew.

He started taking things—small things, things you wouldn’t notice were gone. A hair tie. A receipt you left on the counter. A half-used tube of lip balm. They were trophies, proof that he was part of your world even if you didn’t know it yet.

And the pictures. Oh, the pictures.

They covered his walls. You smiling. You asleep on the bus, head tucked against the window. You looking at a menu, deep in thought. Hundreds of them, from every angle, every moment of your life he could capture without you noticing.

And the best part?

You liked him.

You had no idea, of course, but Dick could see it. The way you glanced at him when he finally started talking to you, when he finally made himself known in your life. It was easy—he was charming, he was sweet, he was everything you’d want in a guy.

So he inserted himself into your life, seamlessly.

“Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here!” A bright smile. A friendly laugh. “What a coincidence, huh?”

It wasn’t a coincidence.

It was orchestrated, down to the second. Every “random” encounter, every meeting—it was all planned, deliberate. But you didn’t question it. Why would you? He was Dick Grayson. A gentleman. A hero.

You never realized the full weight of his devotion.

Never realized how deep it ran.

Never realized how much worse it could get.

Because the thought of losing you? The thought of someone else having you?

It made him sick.

It made him furious.

It made him violent.

You noticed the change after a while. The possessiveness in his touch, the way his grip lingered on your wrist, the way his blue eyes darkened when you so much as smiled at another man.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he’d say, voice honey-sweet. “You’re too trusting, sweetheart. Not everyone has good intentions.”

Not like him.

So when your ex went missing, you didn’t think much of it.

When that guy at work—the one who flirted with you—got mugged and beaten within an inch of his life, you chalked it up to Gotham’s crime rate.

And when you started feeling like you were being watched, even in the safety of your own home—well.

Dick was always there to reassure you.

“It’s okay, babe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And he meant it.

Even if that meant keeping you all to himself.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[mrsbarnesblog]

i am not the only one who saw that, right?

masterlist

summary: your friends find out that you secretly dating their enemy, but their opinion might completely change when they see Rafe from another point of view

words count: 2.2k

warnings: secret relationship, pogue!reader, attempted assault, mention of blood, soft and protective Rafe

a/n: inbox is open for requests💘

“You cannot be dating Rafe fucking Cameron, Y/N!” John B exclaimed, burying his hands in his hair and walking all around the place. 

“No, seriously, this is not a good idea.” Sarah looked at you, giving out a nervous laugh. 

You were currently surrounded by your friends, who were all practically yelling at you after they accidentally saw a message from Rafe on your phone. You were one of the pogues; you never hanged out around the kooks, but somehow, when you were visiting Sarah a few months ago, you got into a random conversation with Rafe, and since that moment, the connection between you two has only gotten stronger. 

It was an instant click and as much as you both tried to deny the spark, it was there. As you started going out, secretly from everyone, of course, you decided to keep it private until the right time. 

“Alright, guys, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew that this would be your reaction. It just happened, okay?” You rubbed the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache from the tense situation. All of your friends were standing on the opposite side of you and it felt like they were just attacking you. 

“What were you thinking? You know that he hates people like us, like you. We are pogues, Y/N. How the hell did that even happen?” Kiara was standing with her hands on her hips, as her piercing eyes were studying you. You felt awful looking at Pope, who was the one who always supported you, but he just shook his head and stepped away. 

“I don’t know. It just happened. We talked once when Sarah left, then I accidentally met him a few times in town, and then he texted me. He’s not bad when you know him closer.” You sighed. “Look, I know Rafe was a lot of trouble for us. He did bad things; I know that. But he’s not like that; he’s sweet and caring, and he has never shown any sign of being disrespectful towards me. I just can’t deny my feelings for him.”

“Honey, Rafe is not a good person. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone; he’s evil, selfish and manipulative.” Sarah stepped closer to you, touching your hand. “He’ll play with you, hurt your feelings and just throw you away.”

“And he probably just wants to get into your pants.” JJ grumbled, also taking a defensive position. 

“I haven't even slept with him yet, JJ!” You desperately snapped at him. It felt ridiculous, like all of them turned against you at the same time. Sure, Rafe wasn’t the sweetest person to them before, but they didn’t even give you a chance to say something in your defense. “And you’re wrong too, Sarah. All of Rafe’s actions were just to get people’s attention and appreciation. All it took for me to get on his soft side was to just listen to him and give him some affection. Other people didn’t care enough, including you and your father. He needs someone who he can trust and open up to because he’s hurt.” 

“No, Y/N. If you think that he loves you, then he just got into your head. My brother doesn’t love anyone. It will end badly; I just know that.” 

Tears gathered in your eyes, and a lump in your throat made it difficult to say anything back, so you just stupidly stayed there. You had no strength to fight with all five of them at the same time. You turned around, silently getting back in the car, even though your head was filled with doubt and dark thoughts because of their words. 

For the next few days, it was tough for all of you. You and the rest of the group were still close, and even though they were completely against your relationship, you still met and hung out. The pit in your heart was still there, no matter how hard you tried to act nonchalant and not let their words get into your head. 

Rafe noticed the change in your behavior—that you were upset with something—but he didn’t put any pressure on you and allowed you to decide for yourself when you wanted to open up. 

Pogues decided to go to some party on the cut near the beach and as much as you tried to refuse, Sarah and Kiara managed to drag you there. You all rarely went to such places, preferring to hang out in your little circle, but apparently everyone wanted to clear their heads and saw it as the best opportunity. 

It was pretty fun with a bunch of people you did not know, some music, and drinks, and you mostly hung out with your friends. Though quickly it got overwhelming and made you want to go home or at least go outside of the house to get some fresh air. As you left your friends and wanted out from the backyard to a part of the beach, you didn’t notice the guy who had been eyeing you the whole evening. 

He came out of nowhere from your back, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You yelled at the sudden and unwanted touch, and your heart seemed to drop into your stomach when you realised that it wasn’t just a joke from JJ, who liked to scare you. You started wiggling in his hands to get free, but he was fighting you back, dragging you up when you fell to your knees on the ground. 

It was such a mess trying to scratch and punch him that you almost did not notice his hand coming into contact with your face several times. You screamed again, this time loud enough, until you saw JJ running towards you. The guy behind you pushed you away as soon as he saw someone, and you fell to the ground with a loud huff. 

“That fucking bastard!” JJ was right near you, helping you to get up as tears streamed down your face. He tried to comfort you, checking your body for any injuries, but you pushed his hands away, wrapping your own around yourself in a defensive way.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” You heard Kiara, along with your other friends, calling your name. “What the hell happened?”

“H-he attacked me.” You sniffed, trying to catch your breath and, with shaking hands, reaching to the pocket of your jeans shorts to get out your phone. All of them looked at each other, questioning your actions, until you pressed someone’s contact button and put the phone to your ear. “Can y-you pick me up, p-please?” You sniffed again, now trembling from the adrenaline. 

“Baby? Are you crying? Where are you?” You heard your boyfriend’s concerned voice through the phone, feeling how JJ tensed beside you. 

“I’m on the cut. Near the beach. There’s a party and... Please, Rafe.” 

“I’m coming, angel. Just wait for me, ‘kay?” You heard the sound of the car engine at the other end of the line. Rafe didn’t ask any more questions, and as soon as you mumbled quiet 'mhm’ he ended the call. 

You all heard him before you saw him. The sound of the tires drifting through the sandy street was loud, drawing attention to the expensive car that was unusual to see at this part of the island. 

Rafe didn’t bother to properly park, turn off the engine or even close the door when he saw you sitting on some old chaise lounge, with his sister and Kie trying to talk to you and your other friends arguing nearby. 

The girls stepped away from you as soon as they saw Rafe running towards you with a furious expression on his face and ready to deal with anyone who made you cry. It looked like he didn’t even care about the pogues, with whom he always had to get into arguments; he was fully focused on your shivering form.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He squatted down in front of you, and you started sobbing again. Your hands immediately found their place around his neck, and, before he could even properly look at your face, you pulled him closer to get some sense of comfort from his warmth and smell. Rafe hugged you back, soothingly rubbing your back. His eyes shot towards your friends, who were watching in awe at the interaction. “Which one of you did that?”

“It’s not us, you idiot. Some guy jumped her when she walked outside.” Sarah said, rolling her eyes at her brother. “JJ heard screaming, and when we walked outside, he ran away.” Rafe pulled away, finally taking in your appearance.

Your knees were covered in dried blood mixed with the sand. He gently took your hands to see the palms scratched from you trying to catch yourself before hitting the ground. Rafe’s eyes were burning with fury, showing his side that he rarely revealed in front of you. His hand reached to move your hair from your face, noticing a red, now already turning purplish, bruise covering the side of your cheek.

“Holy shit, sweetheart.” He softly brushed his fingertips along your cheek and you leaned into the touch, closing your eyes. Your bottom lip started quivering and you bit inside your cheek to calm yourself down. “Sh-h im here, okay? You’re safe. Did you see him? What did he look like? Just tell me and I’ll deal with it.” He almost begged, but you only shook your head. JJ suddenly stepped closer, slightly hesitating to actually normally communicate with his longtime enemy,  but he thought that it was the least that he could do for you.

As much as he hated The Kooks King, JJ knew that Rafe was the best option to find the guy who hurt you. 

“Tall, with dark and curly hair. Never seen him before, probably someone new on the island, but I’ll recognize him.” They looked at each other for a moment, and Rafe just simply nodded, turning his attention back to you. 

“I’ll find him, ‘kay? I promise I will.” He gently took both of your hands in his, bringing them to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. “We should go now. I need to take care of your knees and that bruise, baby. You don’t mind going to Tanneyhill, yeah?”

“Thank you, Rafe.” You whispered, slightly bending forward to ask for a kiss. Rafe smiled at you, his thumbs gently swiped the leftovers of the tears under your eyes, and then he kissed you on your forehead, nose, and gently pecked your lips. 

Your heart flattered at his soft touches and for a second, it felt like you two were in your own little bubble. Rafe's eyes shimmered slightly in the moonlight, and the way he looked at you, soft and caring, made you want to kiss him again and again. You suddenly snapped out of the trance, looking back at your friends, who all had different levels of shock and uncertainty written on their faces. 

“C’mon, pretty girl.” Rafe stood up, lifting you in bridal style without an effort, carefully not to hurt your bleeding knees. He almost walked away, but then sighed, turning back to look at his sister. “You coming home with us or somethin’?”

“Um, no, I’ll be with John B. It seems like I would be third wheeling with you anyway.” She shrugged, not being able to keep a smile when you two met with your eyes. 

Rafe then looked at JJ, thinking his words over. “I appreciate it, Maybank.” 

They exchanged a tight nod, both slightly shocked that for the first time ever, they communicated without biting each other's heads off. You leaned closer to Rafe, comfortably nestling in his protective hands, and looked at your friends, who were still too shocked to say anything. 

“I’ll see you guys later, okay? 

Everyone agreed, saying goodbye to you and asking you to text them when you get there safely. They saw how Rafe made sure to slowly put you into the passenger seat, then circled the car and drove away. An awkward silence fell around them, everyone at a loss for words. 

“Okay, so I am not the only one who saw that, right?” Pope spoke first, looking around the place as if he were trying to find something. “Rafe freaking Cameron just was acting cute and didn’t threaten to do something to us?” His own body physically shrugged at the word ‘cute’.

“I don’t know, dude. We all just probably drank something and it’s messing with our heads.” 

[lqveharrington]

Gentleman | R.L.

summary: remus lupin is the perfect gentleman.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, you and sirius are practically siblings, rem defending his girlfriend, someone gets pushed off a boat

a/n: all my inspo literally comes from the music i listen to 😭

James had invited the entire group down to the lake for the summer because it was the last summer before the last year of Hogwarts. He thought it should be memorable, and everyone loved the idea. His parents allowed him to borrow the lake house and boat, but only if everyone's parents were okay with it. Of course, your parents trusted you with your friends. The only rule was to stay in separate rooms from your boyfriend. Oopsies.

As the Potters’ boat slowed to a calm stop, the summer wind continued to blow through the air, the clouds nonexistent in the blue sky. The sun shimmered across the lake water and the radio played the top hits of the month, the sound drowning from the talking of the boat’s riders.

When Sirius had enough of all the chitchat, he quickly shed himself of his top and jumped into the lake water, splashing Marlene who was trying to tan on the boats end. She cursed him out and threatened to pull the ladder away when he splashed her again.

Witnessing the entire interaction, you hid a laugh behind a smile and left the girls to sit beside Remus who was sitting underneath the shade of the boat. You tucked your legs underneath your lap and leaned your chin on his shoulder. On instinct, his calloused hand found the space underneath your calf and gently squeezed even when talking to James. You admired his face glowing in the sun for a beat, eyes following the scars that were left behind from bad nights before he finally turned and met your loving eyes.

“Hey.” You murmur and grin when you felt him press a soft kiss to your lips. “Sirius just went into the water." He hummed and kissed you again, making you hum and separate once more. "You don't want to join him?”

“And leave you here all by yourself? What type of man do you think I am?” He thumbed your leg and felt for the rushing blood, ensuring there was a pule and that you were in fact real. It was a habit he was quick to have learned because of a full moon incident a year ago.

You shrug and rest your cheek on his shoulder instead, watching the gulls fly by and circle the food James was grilling. As he tried fighting them off with tongs, Lily and Dorcas began to draw sunscreen images on Marlene's back, not bothering to cover up their giggles.

“You don’t want to join the girls?” Remus tilted his head and scanned your side profile, following the contour of your face. He memorized every single bump and crease, gingerly tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear when you looked back over at him.

You raise a brow at his guilty smile and analyze his mannerism, rubbing the one bit of sunscreen into his cheek. "What?"

“You just wanna stay in the shade with me, don't you, dovey?" He brought his hand up and gently cupped your cheek, pulling you close enough so he could press a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, wherever you are, I follow.” You grin as a blush creeps up your neck, not realizing Sirius had gotten out of the water and rolled his eyes at how affectionate the both of you were being.

“You two are so gross." He covered his eyes before shaking his head like the dog he was — ridding himself of all the water he brought up with him.

You groaned when you got hit with the water, glaring at the long-haired boy. He stuck his tongue out at you which you retaliated with your middle finger. You swore that Sirius had a secret hatred for you since you began dating Remus over a year ago.

Sirius gasped at your gesture and put a hand on his chest, returning the finger. Remus rolled his eyes at the both of you and gave you a pointed look, making you cover it with your hand.

"Prongs, do something! The lady won't go down without a fight!" SIrius complained and popped a soda can out of the cooler, leaning against the railing of the boat.

“Mate, I don’t know what you want me to do.” James threw him a confused look and reached inside the cooler to hand Lily her own can. "Besides, I can't do much here."

“You could toss her over board." Sirius muttered loud enough for you to whip your head toward him and glare.

"You were being mean first!" You move to stand only to be pulled back down into your seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw Remus pursing his lips in thought, making you sigh. "Rem—"

“Sit.” He practically commanded, rolling his eyes once more when you crossed your arms and legs in annoyance. But when you noticed his quick wink, you realize what he was going to do.

You smiled slyly toward Sirius when he met your eyes again. The poor unsuspecting bloke. Sirius gave you an annoyed look and went to say something — probably insulting all women — when Remus pulled him aside.

Assuming Remus was going to hangout with him instead of you, Sirius stuck his tongue out before yelping in surprise as Remus pushed him off the boat. Your eyes widened with a smile, stretching your neck to see where Sirius was flailing. The three girls burst out into laughter at the predicament and quickly moved away from all the splashing water, grabbing a polaroid to take a picture before he could get out. James just shook his head in disbelief, clasping his arm around Sirius’ and helping him up.

Remus tossed a towel in Sirius' direction before sitting beside you again, kissing the side of your head like nothing happened. You gave him cheeky smile and laced your hand with his.

“What a gentleman.” You chide before letting out a noise of surprise at the feeling of his lips on yours, dropping your hand to lay flat on his chest.

“Some gentleman you are.” Sirius muttered as he dried himself off. When he realized Remus was staring back at him with an unimpressed look, he took a huge step back behind James and quickly apologized. “Kidding, I’m kidding.”

You send him another death glare before staring up at Remus with soft eyes as he thumbed your palm, a small smile taking over your face. "You know we're probably going to get pranked anytime soon, right?"

"As long as I spend quality time with you, I think I'll be fine. Besides, he won't try anything too bad." Remus tilted your head up with his index finger. "I'm a gentleman anyway."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[jinwoosbabyboo]

“Daddy’s Home”

Telling the LADS Men you're pregnant. The setting? Happily Married and both parties want kids. Nothing but fluff here (All these men are substantially financially stable and I love that for us)

Zayne

MC: Zayne I have something important to tell you

Zayne: I'm listening

MC: Im pregnant

Zayne: ....

MC: Baby?

Zayne: Im going to be a father?

MC: Yes we're having a baby

Zayne: I need to childproof the house. I'll need to work more hours.

MC: You already work inhuman hours

Zayne: We need a bigger house. Should I build it? I should build it. Why are you standing? You shouldn't be on your feet

MC: Sir I am 2 minutes pregnant we have time to prepare for this bundle of joy

Zayne: They'll need a college fund, driving lessons, a tutor...

Zayne continues mumbling and mulling over every single detail to himself

MC: I guess I'll relax enough for the both of us

Rafayel

MC: Raf sit down I need to tell you something

Rafayel: Why do I need to sit down?

MC: Its safer

Rafayel: My Lemurian senses are tingling but I'll trust you

MC: Okay breath in

Rafayel: *breathes in*

MC: now breath out

Rafayel: *breathes out*

MC: I'm pregnant

Rafayel: *Chokes on his spit* WHAT!

MC: Im 2 months pregnant

Rafayel: I'm gonna be a mother????

MC: No you're gonna be a father

Rafayel: Can I handle this? Can I still eat seafood? Am I allowed to swim in the ocean?

MC: Why are you acting like you're the one carrying twins?

Rafayel: TWINS?! I GET A TWO FOR ONE DEAL?!

MC: What am I? A yard sale?? Don't say it like that

Rafayel: You’re really pregnant?

Rafayel grabs your hands and holds them to his chest where you can feel his heart racing

MC: Yes we’re going to be parents

Rafayel: you....and i....preg-.... twi-

MC: don't pass out please don't pass out right now

Rafayel: *Passes out anyway*

Xavier

MC: Xavier?

Xavier who was currently laying with his head buried in your lap with his arms wrapped around your waist.

Xavier: Hmm?

MC: Do you want a baby? With me?

Xavier rubbing small circles on your lower back with his thumb as he stirred in his sleepy state

Xavier: I want everything with you

MC: Good

Xavier: *Dozing off*

MC: Because I’m pregnant

Xavier: That’s great

MC: …

Xavier: …

MC: and 3….2……..1

Xavier: Wait what ???

MC: You heard me

Xavier: So I’m a dad?

MC: Father to be

Xavier: We have to start their swordsmanship training right away

MC: How about we take it slow like letting them grow in my stomach first?

Xavier: Oh I guess you’re probably right

MC: yea now lay back down

Xavier snuggles right back into your lap placing soft kisses on your stomach that isn’t even showing yet

Xavier: My little angel

Sylus

MC: I need your help how would you tell someone they're a father?

Luke: Im a father?!

MC: Luke shut up

Kieran: *Shoves Luke*

Luke: Sorry

MC: I just don't know how to tell Sylus

Sylus: Tell me what?

Kieran: Me and Luke are uncles now!

MC: Kieran!

Sylus: You’re pregnant?

MC: *Shows the pregnancy test* We’re having a baby

Sylus: Looks as though my efforts weren’t in vain

MC: You were trying to get me pregnant?

Sylus: Why do you think I constantly had you in a mating press?

MC: Sylus! Don’t talk like that in front of the twins

Sylus: *chuckles* I can’t wait to see you plump and glowing with our child princess

Later….

Kieran: I can’t wait to teach them sarcasm

Luke: I’m definitely doing everything their strict parents tell them not to do

Sylus: You two. Sidebar. In my office. Now.

MC, In the background: ooouu you guys are in trouble … bad uncles and the baby isn’t even here yet

[aninipanin1]

WHO'S THE PRETTY GIRL?

The Blue Lock players were expecting a lot from the Neo-Egoist League, but what they did not expect was the fact that their manager would attract the eyes of their masters enough for them to ask them about her.

Notes: Reader is implied a female and is in her mid-20s (25 to 27, but whatever age works for you guys). The Blue Lock boys loves Reader platonically, almost like their older sister. The love interests are of course the Masters (except Loki)

LAVINHO

"Coach-! Ehh..?"

Bachira stopped in his tracks as he entered the door to the field. Unfortunately for him, Otoya and Kitsunezato followed suit and bumped into the boy.

"Ow man, what's wrong with you?"

Otoya, who got the brunt of it due to hitting his nose on Bachira's head, complained. Meanwhile, Kitsunezato just tilted his head as to why Bachira just stayed in his place.

"Bachira-san? What's wrong?"

Bachira then slowly tilted his head. His golden eyes looked at the scene in front of him where you, their manager, talked quite amicably with the Spanish Coach.

This was not much of a surprise to any of them, for you always tried your best to get involved in the boys' training to make sure they were improving while also having ample time to rest. You always reasoned how they were still in their teens and needed proper guidance with a proper and mature adult (since Ego can't really be trusted on that part), so you talking to the masters were no surprise.

What got Bachira, and in turn Otoya and Kitsunezato, raising eyebrows was the fact that for the first time in, like, forever since they met him, Lavinho was quiet. His mouth was zipped, zilched, as he just looked and listened to whatever you were saying.

Lavinho was a man very passionate in his craft, and there are many times where he would say his own input when it comes to the sport, with cheerful countenance too. But, at that moment, he was as quiet as a stone.

"The hell is up with him?"

Bachira asked quite curiously. Kitsunezato just shrugged while Otoya formed a small smirk, seeing how not only was Lavinho quiet in front of you, but the man was also a little too close to you. Adding to that, Lavinho's eyes were literally ogling you, which the white haired striker did not like.

Otoya was all too familiar when it came to flirting and the look of attraction, and man, was his coach making it quite obvious he found you, their manager, attractive.

"Oh lord, not this again."

Bachira turned to Otoya, completely oblivious.

"What?"

"Can't you guys see? Coach is making goo-goo eyes on our manager. He's too obvious, geez."

Kitsunezato only let out an "oh" of understanding. Meanwhile, it took Bachira a while to get what Otoya was saying, and by the time he realized, you were already gone from the field.

"WAIT- YOU MEAN-! NOOOOOO!!"

The two other players jumped at Bachira's sudden outburst, as the boy sprinted to where Lavinho was still stuck on his position, standing up, hands on the Football basket as if it was his only support.

"What? Yo, Bachira-"

"NO! YOU CAN'T BE WITH HER, COACH! I WON'T ALLOW IT! YOU'RE NOT GONNA MAKE Y/N-SAN HAPPY! LEAVE HER ALONE!"

Lavinho was taken aback at the sudden frowning face of Bachira. He got what the boy was talking about as he pulled up a mischievous smirk.

"Hey, you don't know that, blondie. I can treat her well ya know?"

But Bachira was not having it. He loved you like a sister, and there was no way he would allow you to date someone who can not make you happy.

Otoya sighed and held the scruff of Bachira's sweater as the boy tried to struggle like a feral cat. Kitsunezato then spoke out.

"Didn't you just meet her, coach?"

"Yeah, but can't I appreciate a beauty? Especially one with brains like hers. Beautiful women are attractive, yes, but when they're smart and have their own original opinions, they become hotter in my eyes."

Otoya chuckled at that, Bachira became even more feral, like a child in Otoya's hold while Kitsunezato sighed at this.

"Sheesh, what did she even say to you?"

"I asked her about many things and suggestions in your guys' training, and well, her answers are very fun and interesting, to say the least. Do one of you have her number? I didn't get it from her earlier."

Bachira just shook his head violently, for he had your number and refused to give up your info to his coach.

CHRIS PRINCE

"Yo, Reo. Have you seen Prince?"

Reo turned to Chigiri, who had just entered the training field. It was yet another day of training in the English Stratum. Most of the players are scattered in the facility to do their own training from the regime given to them, leaving Reo, Nagi, and now, Chigiri alone in the field.

Nagi laid out on the grass of the field as him and Reo rested for a bit. The purple-haired player tried to recall where he had seen the English Master.

"Hmm, I remember him saying that he had a meeting with Ego along with the rest of the masters. Maybe he hasn't come back from it yet?"

"Really? Hmm, I guess I'll just wait for him here."

"Go on."

The three remained in the field, Nagi slowly snoring away in the grass as Reo and Chigiri watched a recording of their previous plays on a tablet. It was all quiet until the door to the training field opened, revealing Chris Prince, who probably just came from his meeting.

"Oh, good thing you guys are here! I actually wanted to ask you guys something!"

The blonde man grinned as he put his arm around Chigiri and Reo, one for each player as the two raised an eyebrow at him. They knew he was eccentric and a bit...touchy, but he never did this before. Reo then decided to speak.

Chris pulled out his phone, whistling innocently.

"What is it?"

"Do one of you know or have your manager's number?"

"Yes, we three have it. Why?" Chigiri responded, and that made the grin on the professional player's face widen.

"Great! Can you put it in my phone?"

Now that made the two blink as Chris threw his phone in Reo's hands where the phone app was already open. Reo grew a bit more suspicious of this.

"And why do you need Y/n-san's phone number? You two just met in the meeting, I'm sure of it."

The man shrugged, but it was obvious to the two that he was hiding something.

'Weird, I feel like I'm having deja vu...oh wait-'

Chigiri suddenly remembered one certain group of professionals asking him the same thing back in the second selection. The redhead's once curious expression turned into a bored and rather done expression. He then raised his arm and pulled a way from his master's hold.

"Nope, I already know what you want Y/n-san's number for."

"Oh, come on, Hyoma. Don't be like that! I'm not that bad-"

"I'll be the judge of that. Besides, don't you have fangirls? I don't want Y/n-san to be with someone who'll be a hassle to be with."

Reo added, finally getting the implications. He wondered what the coach heard or saw from you for him to immediately ask them for your number. Reo always knew you were beautiful, kind, and responsible. That's why most, if not all, the players in the facility trusted and are quite attached to you, viewing you as some sort of maternal and comforting figure that Blue Lock can not provide alone.

But, he was interested in how you managed to reel in the attention of the second best striker in the world. And, so he did ask, and boy, did he, along with Chigiri who listened regretted. Chris just started to tell them about how not only were you a sight for sore eyes, but absolutely smart and egoistic in your own right even as a manager. About how, even if you had that side to you, when you were not talking about football, you were very kind, caring and very open.

Chigiri responded, his words made a hollow, almost bitter chuckle from the professional player's mouth.

"Yeah, Y/n-san is amazing, but you rave about her like it's your first time meeting a genuinely good person."

"When you are in the spotlight, most people you meet tend to have ulterior motives, and even, different personalities. It's attractive to see a woman both passionate about her craft yet still serious about her morals."

Reo sighed, agreeing to what his master said. But, he was a bit miffed that there was another guy they had to watch out for. He could not help but let out a sigh.

'Y/n-san, you attract the most troublesome guys around here.'

MARC SNUFFY

"Is it just me, or does he look quite distracted with Y/n-san?"

Niko innocently commented as he, Aryu, Barou, and Oliver, watched their master and manager talk from afar while doing their stretching. It has been a few days since the Neo-Egoist League commenced, and everyone in the facility became busier than ever.

You, being the manager, of course, were one of the busiest as you tried your best to take care of all the 5 stratums with only a little help from other staff members due to their own jobs. It was hard, but you always managed for the boys. So that is why you find yourself currently talking to the foreign coach, asking about the improvements of the Blue Lockers who are under his wing currently.

"Hah? So what? She's talking to him, so of course he'll listen."

Barou said in his usual rough tone, with a hint of confusion as to why Niko had to point that out. Oliver on the other hand, just smirked.

"Ah-ah, you don't understand, though, Your majesty. The look in our dear master striker's eyes is something you can only see in the eyes of someone feeling something to someone whom they are talking to."

"That was just confusing." Niko quipped.

"What are you even proposing?" Barou raised an eyebrow.

"What if, Snuffy-san, over there...likes her?" Oliver smirked. His claim immediately made Barou roll his eyes before walking away, not believing it. Niko and Aryu only tilted their heads in confusion, not seeing their master as someone who would fall in love or even have a trivial crush on someone he just met a few weeks ago.

"You probably hit your damn head, dumbass."

"I don't think he's like you, Aiku." Niko commented, making the defender mutter an "Oi," before moving on with the topic.

"It's just, I've been hearing gossips from the other stratums that the master's have been...a little too close to our manager these past few weeks. Who knows?"

"And praytell, where the hell did you hear this from?" Barou asked.

"From Otoya and Chigiri-"

"Not surprised. You three are quite the gossipers." Niko added.

"Very glam yet not at the same time."

"Well duh, of course. Have you not seen their coaches? Childish as hell. Ours ain't all like them." Barou rolled his eyes.

"You have a point. But hey, I said it here. If you all are wrong, you owe me."

They turned back to you and Snuffy and saw that you were already bidding your goodbye to the master coach, your phone between your ear, probably another one of your managerial and staffly responsibilities, they didn't know, but it was quite common to see you run about the halls of the facility.

Snuffy soon joined them, waiting for the rest of the players on the field since it was still quite early and training was to start in a few more minutes. The other four Blue Lockers only being there due to a plan they formulated and wanted to reenact before practice.

They see the coach looking quite happily down at his phone, seemingly satisfied with what he was seeing as he typed away on it. With the four players feeling quite curious as to why he had such...an abnormally happy grin, they approached Snuffy to ask, and suffice it to say, they were a little bit surprised with what he said next.

"It's nothing, I'm just happy Miss Y/n finally gave me her number, although it is under the guise of talking about you, Blue Lockers, and your training. It's still worth it."

"Y/n-san's number?" Niko asked to which the coach nodded.

"Yes, I wanted to get to know her more, is all. I wanted to ask some of you about her, but I reckoned it's better to get to know her myself and at the same time, get closer to her. It's like killing two birds with one stone."

"That is glamourously...logical." Aryu commented.

"What do you mean by get to know her more?" Niko asked.

"Hm? I meant in a more personal level. Oh, by the way, I heard most of you are quite close to her, especially you, Niko, since she always talks about you. Can you tell me what the things she likes are? I would prefer to know it now, just to be advanced."

The boys were taken aback by the question, their thoughts running wildly, but all of them were all thinking the same thing.

'I didn't know he could be that smooth when it comes to women...' The Blue Lockers sweatdropped in their minds.

NOEL NOA

"So, was no one planning to tell me that our master is dating Y/n-san?"

Yukimiya entered the canteen where the rest of the Blue Lockers under Bastard Munchen were having their dinner. As usual, it was quite loud with Raichi yelling nonsense at Gagamaru, while Isagi tried to pull him away. Kurona, Hiori, and Kiyora were the only ones quiet in their own seats, eating their food away.

Isagi raised an eyebrow, his hold on Raichi loosening as his eyes were focused on Yukimiya, or rather, the brunette's words.

"Huh? Y/n-san and Noel Noa dating? Where did you hear that from? I didn't know."

It was not just Isagi who got their attentione peaked. The rest of Blue Lock players also were quite curious as to how and why Yukimiya thought that the striker was dating you, their manager.

"I saw him asking her about a restaurant in Tokyo. It kinda sounds like they, or mostly Noa-san were planning a date."

"Huh? Now that I think about it, Noa-san has been quite close with Y/n-san lately." Hiori said, thinking back to the past weeks ever since the Neo-Egoist League started.

"Whatever it is, I think we shouldn't really get involved. Their personal and dating life is none of pur business anyways." Isagi sighed as he started to eat his own food. After all, most of them had a lot on their plates already too.

With training, the League, Blue Lock as a whole, and the upcoming U-20 World Cup, it was a little hard to find gaps or time to care about trivial things not concerning them.

But, that mindset immediately vanished after a few days later, when they saw Noel Noa, the best striker in the world, known for his stoicism and cold logic on and off the field. A man who can keep his cool and straightforward attitude any second of the day, seemingly panicking inwardly as his eyes scanned his phone.

Turns out, he did not get to save your number, the one you kindly punched in for him the past week (he pretended to get it for the sake of the Neo-Egoist League and the Blue Lock players of course), and well, since you were kind of an elusive figure most times of the day, having so many responsibilities, he did not know where else to communicate with you.

Sure, he can use the management system given to the masters to call for your assistance, but those are used in emergencies, and he did not want to disturb or scare you, thinking that something wrong happened when he just wanted to speak with you, in a more casual terms.

Nope, he was not illogical and irresponsible like that. So, instead, he finally let his pride down a bit and went to his players to ask something that shocked most of them.

"Can I get your manager's number?"

Nothing was heard except Raichi spitting out water from his water bottle on the grass the training field provided. Isagi, who was the one Noa asked, just blinked at his master's question or, rather, request due to the tone of his voice.

"Um, sure. I can put it in for you, Noa-san."

The albino man only nodded his head and gave the boy his phone. Isagi, meanwhile, was taken quite a back, his expression one of disbelief and resignation.

'Well, Its not like this is the first time someone asked us for Y/n-san's number anyways.'

Compared to Isagi, the rest of the Bastard Munchen players were less calm about it. Raichi's mouth, along with Kurona's were still wide. Yukimiya was blinking, eyes wide in disbelief as if he was hallucinating, and Hiori who had literal spirals for his eyes, the situation making him feel quite dizzy.

"I never knew, he can be like...this."

"Me neither." Hiori responded to the shocked claim Yukimiya said, not used to the master of the German team acting like this.

"Well, I mean, are we even surprised? This feels like the World 5 incident all over again." Kiyora, who just arrived, sat with them, remembering the ending of the 2nd selection where they met and faced international players, and needless to say, most of them were not even hiding the fact they found you attractive and wanted your details.

"Right, right, I forgot about that." Kurona muttered. But, Yukimiya just ended things with a shrug, watching Isagi give the coach his phone before running off to join the rest of them.

"Well, it is a shock. But, its not like we can do anything about it. Y/n-san is just like that, she attracts the most...um, diverse people to her. Probably, the reason why she also has a lot of fans worldwide."

The rest nodded, returning to their training, knowing deep down that, no matter how much they wanted to fight off the men who were interested in you, it cannot be helped when their manager was just someone like you, and they would never ever change you for the world.

After all, you are the elder sister figure they did not know they needed in this asylum-like facility and no professional football player who is attracted to you, can change that.

BONUS!

"Hmm, I think with the power of Y/n-chan alone, we can convince the rest of the World 5 players before to come again-" Anri tried to recommend only to be given a heavy glare by Ego, who found the idea less than appealing.

"No, these four are enough of a headache to be around her. I don't need Blue Lock TV turning into a dating show."

"..."

"I know you're jealous, but-"

"Just do your work, Anri-chan. That way, we can get this thing over with."

With that, the woman shrugged and left the room, heading off to find you to hopefully ask for your help in other work around the facility.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Y/n: Hello, I am the manager of Blue Lock-

The Masters and the World 5: Already off to buy the ring, prepare our future house, adopting 6 cats and planning our retirement days and building our coffins together. Anything else we're forgetting?

Blue Lockers: Yes. The fact that you literally just met her?

The Masters and the World 5: ...

The Masters and the World 5: I fail to see the problem with that-

This is based off of that small headcannon I posted a few months ago (i think?) And well, this took me a while to post but I finally finished it lol. By the way, this Y/n is different from the other manager Y/n from my previous post. That Y/n is a minor (15, 16 or 17, depending on you, reader) and her lpve interests are the minor characters. While this Y/n is an adult and here love interests are the adult players and characters. Like I said, when I say Masters and World 5 in this, I only mean the adult ones, not Loki. Loki is the love interest of Minor Manager Y/n sooo yeah! Hope you enjoy!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[cyripticchronicler]

Sooooo i need you to write more azriel becauseeeeee you are amazing at it and I adored healing

His Shadows

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A disastrous date leads to an unexpected revelation: Azriel’s shadows aren’t just protective—they know the truth about the bond between you and him. Can you embrace the love you’ve always craved, or will fear hold you back?

TW: Kissing, one swear word

A/N: You ask and you shall receive! Ngl I love this fic so much!! Azriel longing has such a special place in my heart fr <3

Masterlist Azriel Masterlist

Azriel was sure he looked pathetic. He looked like a dog; wide, pouty eyes gazing at you longingly as he followed you around with desperate steps.

He was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Your smile was the sun to his shadows, your laugh music to his silence. He loved how you talked to him - gentle and kind, like he weren’t a man carved from death and pain. 

Tonight was like no other. Stealing glances at you from across the dinner table, his heart was warm with adoration. You were absorbed in a conversation with Feyre, bright smile lighting up the room. Cassian was sitting next to him, chatting his ear away. He wasn’t paying attention, too enraptured by you and your colossal beauty. 

He wasn’t all that surprised when he felt the tug in his chest; a tug that led to you. Despite the suspicion that you were his mate - he’d never felt this comfortable around someone, so warm and fuzzy - he still felt the breath leave his lungs. His nervousness was unmistakable, breathing laboured and cheeks flushed. His heart was racing, his palms sweaty, and his shadows…his shadows were everywhere. 

They were swirling around his shoulders, darting towards you and wrapping around your hair as an invisible force attracted them. It was only when a shadow brushed against your cheek, so slow and caring, that he yanked his shadows back with a brutal force. 

“Az?” Cauldron, your voice was enough to bring him to his knees. Your head was tilted in concern and he knew if he looked around the table everyone would be wearing the same concerned look. 

“I-” His voice cracked, a rare slip in his usually perfect facade. “Sorry. I’m fine.” He wasn’t. And his shadows betrayed that as they reached out once again towards you as if wanting to confirm the bond was actually there. That it exists. 

He had to force them away from you once again, taking everything in him to stay in his seat when all he wanted to do was go down on his knees and beg for your love and acceptance of the bond.

 ๋࣭ ⭑

Azriel’s nervousness had amplified. It was embarrassing how his heart would stutter when you got too close. Or how his breathing would stop when you touched him in any way, even if it was a mere shoulder tap. 

His shadows, a lifelong companion, have betrayed him in ways unthinkable. They don’t listen. He can no longer trust them around you. Like now, you’re walking next to him, shoulders brushing against his own as you talk about your latest mission for the Night Court. 

Your conversation was momentarily interrupted as someone’s arm bumps harshly into yours. Azriel’s eyes narrow in a glare, instinctively wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. 

“I'm okay, don’t worry.” He looks down at the hand that’s found its way to his arm, squeezing it comfortingly. “Good. She didn’t even apologise.” Azriel would like to blame the mating bond for his protectiveness, but, truthfully, he’d been this protective before the bond even snapped. 

You started walking, smiling once again. Azriel could still feel the anger boiling in his gut, his attentive eyes noting the shadows that swirled around your ankles, watching with a grimace as they continued to rise and slowly envelope you in darkness. 

Return to me. 

They rise quicker, your legs hidden. You’ve stopped in your tracks, eyes flitting up to look at Azriel curiously. 

Return to me. Now.

They wrap around your waist and you move away from the busy sidewalk. “Azriel? What’s going on?” He grits his teeth, your voice an echo in his head as he tries to regain his composure. 

Listen. Return.

They begin to wrap around your arms, almost your whole body shrouded in darkness. Your eyes, thankfully not panicked, scour the streets, looking for the danger that could explain why Azriel’s shadows were acting up. 

Enough. Go. 

His shadows hesitated around your frame, the icy chill of Azriel’s voice reminding them who their commander was. One by one, Azriel watched them slip away and into the darkness, banished into a space where they couldn’t interact with him or anyone else for the time being. 

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” His voice was raw, cheeks flushing and eyes moving everywhere but your own. Your smile is filled with adoration and understanding. Azriel was too blinded by his nervousness to see it. “It’s okay. Let’s go get lunch.”

 ๋࣭ ⭑

Azriel was going crazy. Sitting in the corner of the room, his hands clench and unclench as he watches you. The dim lighting in the living room does enough to hide Azriels shadows from everyone else. 

The moment you entered the room, his heart rate picked up and his shadows sharted flitting around the room erratically. Since then, he’s attempted to momentarily ignore you in a desperate hope to slow the beating of his heart and leash his shadows. 

“How…is your garden going? Did you plant those Dasies you got?” Azriel mutters distractedly, eyes still on you even as he talks to Elain. Her candy-like voice reaches his ears and he forces himself to look at her. 

“My garden’s going well! The daises really suit the rest of the garden. The white is a nice contrast with the buttercups-”

“Azriel, what the fuck?” Cassian’s confused voice cuts Elain off from her passionate rambling, his head snapping to look at him from where he sits next to you, hand raised above your shoulder like he was about to touch you. 

But he can’t. Azriel’s eyes move from Cassian's confused, worried ones and down his arm to watch the shadows swirl around his arm and hand. The shadows are physically preventing Cassian from placing his hand on your shoulder. They wrap around tighter and tighter until Cassian’s face twitches in pain. 

“You’re gonna have to explain this, Az,” Cassian teases, shaking out his arm. His voice was light, but his eyes flickered with genuine concern.

“Enough,” He muttered through clenched teeth, voice low in command. The trembling shadows obeyed, shooting away from Cassian's figure and back to Azriel, swirling around his ear as they whispered apologies in hopes of subduing the anger of their master. 

They don’t stay by him for long, Azriel’s nervousness growing as the eyes of his family lock onto him. His shadows reflect his anxiety, darting from corners of the room and swirling around bodies. As a shadow twirls around Rhysand’s neck once again, Azriel stands up abruptly. 

“I need to go,” Is all he mutters before leaving for the House of Wind with a brutal tug on his shadows, ensuring they follow his orders. 

What in the cauldron was wrong with him?

  ๋࣭ ⭑

“What’s wrong with you?” The question quite literally stuns Azriel in silence. He’d been locked up in his room for days now, trying meditating tactics to calm his shadows - even going to Madja to see if she could help in any way. She couldn’t. He hadn’t seen you in days, and, despite the desperate longing in his chest, he’d rather it be that he doesn’t see you instead of embarrassing himself. Again. 

You’d grown worried in his absence, constantly asking your family if they’d heard from him. Cassian had grown sick of your constant questions and offered to fly you up to the House of Wind himself. 

You had happily taken him up on the offer, leading to you now standing in Azriels room, hands on your hips as you inspect his tense stance and flushed cheeks. “What’s wrong?” You repeat again, eyes narrowed as his shadows leave his side, seemingly darker than usual.

You’re still not used to how vulnerable he looks when his shadows aren’t around him. He looks so lost, hands fidgeting in front of him while his wide, brown eyes watch as his shadows leave him. 

“Nothing’s wrong…My shadows are just acting up.” His eyes flit to the ground, folding his arms against his chest to stop his nervous fidgeting. “I’m sorry if I’ve been worrying you. I just needed to figure out what’s wrong with them.”

You smile apologetically, pulling him into a hug so you can feel his warm body against yours. Warmth coats your skin and you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something stupid like ‘I love you.’ 

A shadow slinking up the wall catches your eye. “Um…” You mutter, still hugging him tightly. “I didn’t know your shadows could create shapes and stuff.” You feel him pull away, albeit hesitantly. He turns to look at where you’re pointing, a quiet curse slipping from his lips. 

There, against the wall, rests a lone shadow, the darkness taking the form of a clawed hand, desperately reaching out to your own shadow, formed by the dim fae lights. It’s almost sad how it fights to get closer, yanking at invisible chains, stretching its long fingers in an attempt to touch you. 

Azriel sucks in a sharp breath, placing a strict yet gentle hand on your back and slowly pushing you out of his room, all the while rambling. “I don’t know what’s happening.” Push. “You need to leave.” Push. “-what?-”  “I’ll talk to you later.” Push.  “-wait-” With one more push, you’re standing outside his room. 

You nod in defeat, your protests ignored.  “I’ll come and see you after my date tomorrow night.” He quite literally freezes in the doorway. “Date?” Before you can say anything, his shadows swarm around behind him, slinking behind gaps to reach you. The swarm around his wings, the darkest they’ve ever been. They seem to lash out, yanking at his hair. 

He slams the door before the shadows can reach you. A quiet curse and thump is heard from the other side. You can faintly see a shadow slithering between the gap in the door before it’s yanked back. 

Oh. Your heart is still racing at what just happened. He’s left you standing there in a pool of nervousness, anxious fingers attacking your nails as you debate whether or not you should knock on the door and ask if he’s okay. 

You decide against it. 

  ๋࣭ ⭑

The evening was interesting enough. The good-looking male was nothing short of kind. He had opened doors for you, pulled out your chair and bought you flowers. The warm glow of the candles at each table along with the gentle jazz music helped put your mind at ease, despite being on a date with a man you knew you could never truly love. 

You smile politely at the male's joke, sipping your wine, knowing deep in your heart that something is missing. Azriel had stolen your heart years ago, practically yanked it out of your chest and refused to return it. No matter how many males you talk to or sleep with, no one could replace him. 

“So you work for the High Lord and High Lady?” He asks curiously. You nod, playing with your food. “Yeah, I have a range of roles but I’m mostly a diplomat.” His smile was kind and attentive, nodding along as a sign for you to keep talking. “I-It’s a fun job. They’re like my family and I’d do anything for them.” 

“I have a feeling you’d do anything for a lot of people, wouldn’t you? You seem sweet.” His hand reaches out, fingers gently grazing yours before completely holding your hand, fingers lacing between yours. 

His hand feels weird. Too soft. You crave the rough scars that should be grazing against your palm. The tight way Azriel holds your hand (when he dares to; usually with the excuse that you’re in danger). 

“Thank you-”

The air shift is subtle but you notice it almost immediately. The temperature dropped, a chill slinking up your spine despite the warmth of the restaurant. You glance around, suddenly aware of how shadows deepen in the corners of the room. 

“Do you want my jacket?” Your date asks, brows furrowing as he notes the goosebumps trailing up your arm. “No. Thank you.” You smile, trying to return your attention back to the conversation at hand but it's captured by the flickering light in front of you. The flame of the candle danced erratically, as though it was caught in an invisible wind. 

Then you felt it. 

A wisp of darkness slipped between you and your date's hand. You gasp, yanking your hand back to your side with a speeding heart. The shadow didn’t stay away from you for long, slithering around your wrist tightly and anchoring itself to you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, leaning closer and inspecting your face. You nod, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, everything’s fine-”

Before you could finish your sentence, the shadows surge. 

First, they twist around your ankle, raising up and up until your legs feel trapped, so tightly surrounded by shadows it feels restricting. Then they move to your arms, twisting until you can barely move them, pressed to your side and unwilling to move. 

“I- I need to go. I’m sorry.” Panic ceases as you struggle to stand, your heart beating faster while the shadows grip tighter. You ignore the protests of your date, sending an apologetic smile while you walk out, the shadows loosening up enough for you to move your legs. 

Though they loosen around your legs, their grip on your arms grows tighter by the minute. It’s constricting, suffocating even. As you scavenge to find the leader of these shadows, your panic worsens. You. Can’t. Move. Your. Arms. 

You search the bustling streets for any sign of Azriel, figuring he’d be close since his shadows were. But, after ten minutes of looking, and fresh rain dripping down your clothes, you try to find another way. 

You lift your arm to your mouth, whispering desperately, “Get Azriel.” The shadow shoots away in seconds, rushing off into the distance while you find a bench to sit on, uncaring of the rain that pours freely. 

After a few minutes of waiting in the cool rain, the loud flap of wings is the first of Azriel to greet you. Next, it's the shout of your name as he rushes towards you. He abruptly stops in front of you, eyes blown wide as he takes in the sight of his shadows slithering over your body like a snake. 

“What-”

“Get them off. I can barely feel my arms.” Your glare is lethal, the numb feeling in your arms getting stronger. His eyebrows furrow in worry, eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to focus. “Stop.” 

Everything halts at once. The shadows stop moving, returning to their owner hesitantly. “I am-” He shakes his head, any ounce of frustration leaving his body as soon as his eyes meet yours. “I am so sorry. They’ve been so out of control recently. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts I didn’t even notice they were gone.”

“They interrupted-”

“Calduron, did they hurt you? I’m so sorry-"

“-Stop Azriel.” He halts, eyes looking down in shame. “This whole thing has been getting out of hand. I was on a date, Azriel. What’s going on? This has never happened before.” You place a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes as he speaks. 

“I’m really sorry. I hope they didn’t hurt you. They’ve been acting up ever since the mating bond snapped and I don't know how to control it- They get so protective over you because I feel so protective. I’m trying to control it, I just think, because the bond just recently snapped they’re unsure of how to act around you-”

“The what now?” Your breathing stutters, your voice cracking in nervousness as you try to absorb everything he just said. Mating bond? He’s your mate? The one you’ve loved for so long is your mate?

“The-” He steps away, flinching when he processes what he’s said. Turning his back to you, he looks the part of a fallen angel, wings drooped, shoulders hunched while rain drips down his wings. “The mating bond,” he whispers in defeat. 

You take a slow, timid step towards him. “The mating bond?” Your heart skips a beat, breathing ragged as a strange feeling warms your chest. A phantom string tugs at your heart, connecting you to your one true love. “The mating bond.” You say more confidently, a tentative hand reaching out to touch Azriel’s shoulder.  

His back relaxes at your touch, head moving to look at you over his muscled shoulder. “I need you. So badly. I need you like the air I breathe. Please, if you’re going to turn me down do it quickly.”

You shake your head, shaking hand moving to his chin, turning him so he’s facing you. “Who says I don’t need you the way you need me? I’ve loved you for so long. I’m ecstatic to be your mate?” 

Rain drips from his hair and down his nose. You quickly wipe it away. His scarred hands move to your cheeks and he does the same for you, brushing the rain away from your face like he were protecting a precious painting. 

“You love me?” His eyes, so filled with love and hope have your heart melting. 

“Of course I do, honey.” 

“I love you too.” 

You smile, heart so full you feel like it could burst. “Then kiss me.” 

He does just that, warm, soft lips grazing against yours cautiously. He pulls away, eyes looking into yours. When he sees nothing but glee, he dips his head to kiss you again, this time more ferociously. All the longing and desperation he had been withholding leaked out in one kiss, the cold rain barely noticed in the warmth of the kiss. 

He pulls away, gasping for breath as his forehead falls against yours. Shadows return once again, trailing up your back, through your hair and wrapping around your arms causing you to gasp. “You're mine,” He mutters. 

“I’m yours.”

The shadows dance in joy.