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s4svnn · 19 days ago

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Limelight . JJK oneshot (1)

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; After five years of chasing her dreams abroad, Iris returns to her small hometown, eager to embrace a fresh start with a new degree and a quiet apartment. But the peace she craves is quickly shattered by the relentless sounds of punches and grunts echoing from the apartment next door. What starts as a tense confrontation soon sparks a fiery chemistry neither of them expected as she comes face to face with her high school crush, now a determined, world-renowned boxer. As their paths cross once more, Iris can't help but wonder if this unexpected encounter might lead to a chance at the love she once thought was out of reach.

↳ pairing; Boxer Jungkook x reader

↳ strangers to lovers, rekindling old flames, fluff

Kofi

Next part

Part One

The air felt different as I stepped off the bus and onto the weathered streets of my small hometown. There was a distinct sense of familiarity in the way the morning sun reflected off the old brick buildings, as if they too were caught in the same cycle of nostalgia that was now rushing through me. I hadn’t been back here in five years, but as I walked, it was as if time had stood still.

The same rows of houses stood proudly on either side, their paint faded and chipped in places but still standing strong. The distant hum of daily life—the chatter from the corner café, the low murmur of passing cars—reminded me of my past, and yet I felt like a stranger walking through it all.

I adjusted the strap of my bag, the weight of my decisions pulling me forward. I was different now—more polished, more certain. But it wasn’t lost on me that coming back to this place felt like returning to the beginning, like I was revisiting the person I used to be and wondering if I could ever fully shed that skin.

My new apartment was just a few blocks away. It was modern, sleek, nothing like the quaint little house I had grown up in. I had worked hard for this moment—the quiet space that would become mine. I couldn’t wait to start over, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive about what I was really walking into.

As I approached my building, I caught a glimpse of someone ahead of me on the sidewalk. They were walking towards me, and even from a distance, I recognized the familiar gait.The memory of our old friendship came rushing back—quiet afternoons spent in the park, nights watching movies, and those long, aimless conversations we used to have.

We hadn’t kept in touch much after high school, each of us pursuing different paths, but something about seeing him again felt like an anchor.

“Iris?” Kai’s voice was full of disbelief, as if the sight of me standing there was something too surreal to process. It echoed the same warmth and sincerity I remembered from all those years ago, that easy kindness he carried—something that was just naturally a part of him..

"Hey," I said, my voice a little too soft, feeling like I hadn’t quite figured out how to say the words I’d been holding onto all this time. I set my suitcase down and stepped closer, the familiar beat of my heart quickening with excitement. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him in a hug, the kind that only old friends could share—tight, almost urgent, as if trying to make up for lost time.

His embrace was warm, his body solid and real, and for a second, I could almost pretend nothing had changed, that we were still the two kids who spent lazy afternoons talking about everything and anything at all.

When we pulled away, I could see the surprise etched across his face, his brow furrowed slightly as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. "You’re back?" he asked, his voice edged with something close to awe. "I didn’t even know you were coming."

I smiled, the rush of nostalgia flooding through me. "It’s a surprise," I said, my words coming out almost breathless. I hadn’t even told my parents yet—wanted to see their faces when I walked through the door. "I thought I’d catch everyone off guard."

"Well, wow," Kai said, shaking his head slowly. His eyes still didn’t quite believe it. "I never thought you’d come back. Shit. I’m honestly in shock right now."

"Yeah, I didn’t think I’d come back either," I said, my voice softening as I glanced around the street, as if trying to anchor myself in the moment. "It feels strange but good, I think I just needed a change. You know how it is."

We stood there for a long moment, the weight of years between us hanging in the quiet space that neither of us knew how to fill. Five years had passed, five years filled with new experiences, new lives. But somehow, the world around us felt the same—unchanged. And yet, we both knew, deep down, that we weren’t the same. Neither of us had stayed in place.

"No yeah of course, so what’ve you been up to?" Kai asked, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. There was a curiosity in his voice, but it was tinged with something else—a hint of pride, maybe, or maybe just the simple joy of hearing my story. "I saw something about you passing the bar a while ago. But other than that I don’t really know much."

A small, satisfied smile tugged at my lips. I had worked for this, fought for it. It wasn’t something I had shared with anyone outside of close circles, but now, talking to him, it felt like I could finally let it spill out. "Yeah, I graduated from law school a few years ago," I said, letting the weight of the words settle. "Been working at a firm in the city. It's been hectic, but it’s definitely paid off." I paused, glancing up at him, the excitement bubbling up again. "And now I’m done with school.Thought it was time to take a break and come home."

Kai’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. "Wow," he said, his voice infused with admiration. "A lawyer, huh? I always knew you’d go on to do big things."

It felt good to hear that—those words that meant more than just approval. They carried weight, because Kai had always been the one who knew me best back then. He knew how I dreamed of doing something meaningful, something big, and hearing him say it out loud made it real. "Well, it hasn’t been easy," I said, with a small shrug. "A lot of long nights and even longer days, but I made it. And now, I’m going to start a new chapter in my new apartment."

Kai’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mouth slightly agape. "Wait, you’re not staying with your folks?" His voice rose an octave, disbelief taking over. "Where are you staying, then?"

I couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at my lips. It felt good to let it out, to let him see the strides I had taken. "The Heights," I said, my voice almost smug, though I didn’t mean it to be.

His expression froze for a moment, as if processing what I’d just said. His eyes flicked down to the suitcase at my feet and then back to me, and I could see the shock register. "Hold on, The Heights?" he asked, his voice incredulous. "As in the most expensive apartment complex in the whole city, that The Heights, seriously?"

I nodded, feeling a rush of pride course through me. "Yeah," I said, my voice steady but tinged with satisfaction. "That’s the one. It’s perfect Kai, I just need some peace and quiet, no more fighting over the bathroom or having to hide snacks."

Kai blinked at me, his mouth dropping open. "Damn sis I knew lawyers made a lot of money but shit that place is hella expensive, you gotta show me around some time."

I shrugged, trying to downplay the growing sense of accomplishment in my chest. "Oh I definitely will, turns out when you’re a corporate lawyer you can make things like that work. So I thought why not, it’s a good investment and I’ve worked hard for it."

Kai stared at me for a moment, shaking his head as if he was still trying to catch up. "God, I can’t believe this," he said, a small laugh escaping him. "I wish those stupid bitches from highschool could see you now, they’d shit their pants.."

"Thanks, Kai," I said, unable to wipe the smile from my face. There was something comforting about hearing his approval, about having him see me, finally, as the person I’d become. "It feels like it’s been a long time coming."

"Well, if anyone deserves it, it’s you," Kai said, his voice warm with sincerity. There was no mistaking the pride in his words, and for a moment, everything felt right again. "I’m happy for you. Really."

"Thanks." I glanced down at my watch, suddenly aware that I was running out of time. "Shit, I’d love to keep talking but I should probably get going, I need to unpack and get settled in. But let’s definitely catch up soon, okay?"

"Of course," Kai replied, flashing that easy grin that I remembered so well. "Let me know if you need anything. And we are definitely grabbing a drink sometime soon. Don’t forget that."

"For sure," I said, giving him a small wave. As I turned to walk toward my new apartment, I felt a mix of emotions settle in my chest. A sense of finality, maybe, or maybe it was more like relief. I was saying goodbye to something—some version of myself—and stepping into a new chapter of my life.

And yet, the entire time, Kai’s presence lingered in my mind, like a bridge between the past and the future. The years had changed us both in ways we couldn’t quite articulate, but somehow, in that brief moment of connection, we had found something that was still us.

The apartment complex was a far cry from anything I’d ever imagined for myself growing up in this small town. As I stepped through the front doors, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of luxury settle around me. The lobby was an open, airy space that stretched far beyond what seemed necessary, with towering windows that let in the soft afternoon light, casting everything in a golden hue.

The floors were polished marble—so smooth and reflective that they almost looked like they could have been an extension of the sky. Everything screamed opulence, from the sleek, modern furnishings to the delicate touches of gold and glass accents that shimmered subtly in the sunlight.

The scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air, their fragrance light and sweet, adding an almost surreal quality to the space. Soft classical music played from hidden speakers, filling the silence with a calmness that seemed intentional—designed to soothe and impress. A large chandelier made of crystal dangled from the ceiling, its delicate prongs glistening as they caught the light.

Everything in the lobby exuded a sense of wealth—this wasn’t the kind of place someone like me would’ve been familiar with just five years ago. The kind of place where only the elite, the successful, the untouchable people lived. I felt out of place, yet at the same time, a rush of pride swelled inside me.

I approached the front desk, trying to act casual, even though every part of me felt like I was in a dream. The receptionist, impeccably dressed in a minimalist black suit, smiled warmly as I approached. “Welcome, Miss Iris,” she said, her voice as polished as everything around us. She handed me the key to my new apartment with a grace that made the whole interaction feel almost theatrical.

“If you need anything at all, please let me know. I’d be happy to help.” Her words were polite, professional, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was so used to dealing with people like this—the ones who belonged here. The ones who fit into the sleek, perfectly curated world of The Heights.

“Thank you,” I said, offering a polite smile before heading toward the elevator. I couldn’t help but feel a wave of anticipation as I pressed the button for the top floor. The building was stunning, and everything about it felt like the next step in my life.

The elevator doors opened to the top floor with a soft chime, and I stepped out, looking down the hall to my door. As I walked toward it, I tried to imagine what my new life would look like here—what it would feel like to truly call this place home. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, immediately struck by the spaciousness of the apartment.

It was everything I had hoped for: clean, modern, filled with light and possibility. The windows offered a breathtaking view of the town, its familiarity mixing with the excitement of this new chapter.

I dropped my suitcase, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease for the first time in days. I walked through the apartment, taking in the details—the sleek furniture, the open kitchen, the large windows that seemed to stretch out forever. It felt like the first place I had ever truly owned, and it was mine.

Without thinking, I ran across the living room, a sense of childlike wonder rising in me. I laughed quietly to myself, overwhelmed by how perfect everything was. I let myself flop onto the couch, staring at the ceiling and exhaling a long, contented breath.

Just as I finally began to settle in, letting the soft hum of the apartment calm my nerves, a sudden thud shattered the peace. My body went stiff, every muscle tightening instinctively. The sound was so loud, so jarring, that it felt as if the walls themselves had trembled in response. I sat up straight, my pulse quickening as I tried to make sense of what I’d just heard.

Then, a steady, rhythmic pounding followed—a heavy thwack, thwack, thwack against what I could only imagine was the wall separating us. The sound reverberated through the floor and up into my chest, like the thundering pulse of something alive, relentless.

There was a brief pause, a brief silence that made my skin crawl. And then, a deep grunt echoed through the air, followed by more pounding—louder now, faster, as though someone was throwing their entire body into each strike. It was impossible to ignore, impossible to pretend it wasn’t happening.

I furrowed my brow, feeling the heat of irritation spread through my veins. I hadn’t expected to hear anything so aggressive. The noise rattled through the apartment like a storm crashing through a quiet night, and for a split second, I found myself holding my breath, waiting for it to stop. But it didn’t.

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

Several hours later, the noise hadn’t ceased. If anything, it had grown more persistent, more punishing. The sound of fists pounding against something—hard and fast—seemed to rattle every corner of the apartment. I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my body tense and unwilling to relax, even as the sheets shifted beneath me.

Every thud felt like it was reverberating through the floorboards, through the walls, like some kind of invasion of my very space. Each hit landed with a sickening resonance that seemed to crawl beneath my skin, digging its way into my patience.

I couldn’t take it any longer.

I threw the covers off, frustration boiling in my chest. I needed to sleep. I deserved to sleep in peace for once, and yet here I was, trapped in an endless loop of noise that refused to stop. My thoughts spun with annoyance, frustration, and a growing sense of helplessness. What kind of person does this? What kind of neighbor keeps someone awake like this, pounding away like a damn animal? It was disrespectful and I was done being the silent victim of it.

I stood up, the cool floor against my bare feet grounding me for a moment as I walked toward the door, trying to think through my next steps. The thought of confronting this loud, inconsiderate stranger sent a mixture of dread and determination through me, but I was past the point of simply ignoring it.

I changed into my silk pajamas—soft and comforting, but completely incongruent with the sense of agitation I was carrying, the fabric slid against my skin as I adjusted the top and pulled the shorts on. With every step I took toward the door, I could feel my heart pounding louder than the noise. By the time I reached it, my resolve had solidified. This wasn’t just about sleep anymore. This was about respect. It couldn’t just play nice and let this idiot walk all over me.

I stepped forward and knocked. Hard. The sound of my fist hitting the door felt like it would be enough to wake the dead, but when I stood there, waiting for a response it was met with silence. Nothing. My teeth clenched as I slammed my fist against the door again, harder this time, trying to shake whatever the hell this person was doing in there, to make them hear me. Still nothing. I could feel my patience unraveling with each passing second. The pounding continued—louder, faster, more frantic, as if mocking my attempt to get their attention.

I was at the brink. Frustrated, I pressed my shoulder against the door and used my full weight to push against it. Nothing. It was locked. But then, just as I was about to lose it, the door swung open suddenly—too fast—and my body lurched forward, caught off guard. I crashed straight into something warm and solid—someone, to be exact.

Strong arms wrapped around me instinctively, holding me steady as I stumbled forward.

“Are you okay?” The voice that spoke was low and smooth, laced with concern and something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

I blinked, a little dazed from the collision, but I quickly recovered, stepping back with a nervous laugh to smooth out the front of my silk pajamas. "Yeah. Sorry about that." I glanced up at the man, trying to pull myself together. "I’m your new neighbor," I said, forcing the words out in a business-like manner, but something about the situation made it feel surreal.

And then I met his eyes. Everything stopped. The room, the noise, my racing thoughts—they all faded away, eclipsed by the shock of recognition. Standing before me, looking like some kind of vision, was Jungkook. My highschool crush, and the most popular guy in school who had been a distant figure back then, someone so far out of my reach that I never once considered the possibility of us crossing paths..

But now—he was standing there, inches away from me, with a body built from hours of training and discipline. His black t-shirt stretched across his chest, the sleeves tight around his biceps, revealing tattoos that snaked down his arms, some intricate, some abstract. His dark hair was tied back in a messy bun, and there was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. His jawline was sharp, his eyes intense, and his gaze held a curiosity that made my stomach twist in an unexpected, unsettling way.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place, completely caught off guard by the man in front of me. And then, as if to snap me back into reality, he spoke again, this time his tone was cold and a little impatient. "Do you need something?" he asked, his words clipped. "I'm in the middle of a training session."

I blinked, finding my voice again, though it was laced with irritation. "Actually, yes," I shot back, the tension I’d been holding onto spilling out. “I need you to keep it down. I can’t sleep with all that noise you’re making. It’s disrespectful to your neighbors.”

The words left my mouth sharper than I’d intended, and for a second, I wasn’t sure if I cared. He had no right to be this loud. No right to make me feel like I was the one in the wrong.Jungkook looked at me, his expression unreadable for a beat. But something flickered behind his eyes—an irritation that mirrored my own.

The silence between us hung thick in the air, charged with something I couldn’t put my finger on. Was he really this rude? This inconsiderate? I’d come here, expecting at least some understanding, but instead, I felt like I was standing on the wrong side of an unspoken line.

“No.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the burning irritation that was quickly flooding through me. “No,” I repeated, my voice still steady, but firm. It was the only word I could manage, but it carried everything I wanted to say.

Jungkook, however, wasn’t having it. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, that same unbothered, borderline dismissive expression still on his face. "No," he said back, his tone harsh and almost mocking, as if my complaint was nothing more than a small inconvenience to him. "I've been living here for years, and no one has ever complained about the noise. So why the hell should I stop just because my bratty new neighbor thinks she can tell me what to do?"

My mouth fell open. Bratty? The word stung, and I immediately felt the weight of the insult. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing—this was how he was going to handle it? Like it was nothing, like I was nothing? The nerve of him. I took a step forward, my anger flaring. “Excuse me?” I bit out, my voice sharper now. “You don't get to call me that. I'm just asking for a little respect.”

But Jungkook stood his ground, his eyes narrowing, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’m not stopping, okay? Deal with it.” He turned away, leaving me standing in the doorway, mouth agape and completely speechless.

I stood there for a moment, my chest tight with frustration, my pulse racing. I had never expected such a careless, rude response. How could someone be so selfish? I was being reasonable, but he didn’t give a damn. As much as I hated it, there was nothing more I could do. Not here, not now.

Sighing in defeat, I turned around and walked out of his apartment, heading toward the front desk. Maybe there was something else I could do. Maybe I could change rooms. A different floor, a quieter corner of the building—anything to get away from the noise.

When I reached the front desk, I didn’t even hesitate before asking. “Hi, is there any way I can change rooms? The noise from next door is unbearable. I can't sleep like this.” The receptionist gave me a gentle, apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Iris, but there are only two penthouse suites in the building—the one you're staying in and the other one that Mr. Jeon Jungkook occupies. Unfortunately, we don't have any available rooms on that floor."

I froze. The weight of the words crashed down on me, and I felt a dull sense of panic creep into my chest. The other penthouse suite. Of course, he’d be on the same floor. It only made sense.

I let out a long, defeated sigh. “Right. Thanks.” There was nothing I could do, no way around it. I couldn’t change floors, and the thought of confronting Jungkook again made me feel sick to my stomach.

I turned and trudged back toward my apartment, the long hallway stretching out before me like a labyrinth of inevitable frustration. I wanted to slam the door and bury myself under the covers, but I couldn’t escape the noise. It was going to be a long night.

Hours later, I was still wide awake. Every thud, every grunt, every strike against the wall felt like a hammer against my skull. My eyes felt heavy, but sleep never came. The time seemed to stretch on and on, an endless cycle of noise and silence, my body aching for rest that was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t blinked in what felt like forever. The pounding from next door showed no sign of stopping. The clock on my bedside table seemed to mock me, ticking away in slow motion.

When the noise finally ceased, my body went rigid with hope. I nearly leaped out of bed, glancing at the clock—only to freeze when I saw the time. It was 9 AM. A full night had passed, and I hadn't slept a wink. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I groaned in frustration, rubbing my eyes furiously, trying to will myself into consciousness despite the exhaustion that weighed me down.

With a sigh, I shuffled to the bathroom, throwing my hair into a messy bun and slipping on the soft robe I had left hanging in the bathroom. I needed coffee. I needed something to wake up and get through this first day back. My mind felt foggy, my head pounding in sync with the sleepless night I had just endured.

Making my way down to the breakfast bar, I was surprised at how quiet it was. The entire space was empty—no other guests, no bustling crowd to greet me. The silence in the lavish room only highlighted the sense of isolation that had settled over me, and my eyes flitted over the marble countertops and gleaming surfaces. It was beautiful—too beautiful.

I approached the nearest waiter, still feeling the weight of sleep-deprivation pressing on me, and asked in a daze, “Where is everyone? Is this place usually empty?”

The waiter offered a polite, almost apologetic smile. “This breakfast is only open to the penthouse suite owners, Miss Iris,” he explained softly, as if it were some exclusive secret that only a select few knew about. “It's a private service.”

I blinked, surprised at the exclusivity. The penthouse suites were far more than just lavish; they were reserved, and that alone made me feel like I had just entered a whole new world of luxury I never fully understood until now. My excitement flickered, and I felt a small smile tug at my lips as I made my way toward the nearest table.

But then, just as I was about to sit down, I heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. My stomach dropped, and I turned just in time to see Jungkook walk into the breakfast bar, looking completely at ease, as if he belonged here. His presence made my heart stutter for a moment. Of course, he would be here too. How could I forget that we were now neighbors?

I stood frozen, my initial excitement now replaced with a dull, sinking feeling. The reality of sharing this space with him, knowing that we were stuck on the same floor, made my stomach twist in a way I hadn’t expected.

Jungkook caught my eye briefly, and the brief flicker of recognition that passed between us was enough to send a pulse of heat to my cheeks. But I quickly looked away, my nerves spiking again as I tried to calm the swirl of thoughts flooding my mind.

The moment I sat down at the breakfast bar, I tried my hardest to ignore Jungkook's presence. I had already been up for hours, exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to deal with was him, his presence already irritating me the moment he walked in. I had been up most of the night, tossing and turning, listening to the constant noise next door, and I had gotten nothing but frustration and sleep deprivation in return. The last thing I needed was to engage with him, so I focused on my pancakes, pretending he wasn’t sitting across from me.

I took a bite, trying to savor the food, but the heaviness of the night still lingered in the pit of my stomach. I should’ve gotten a different room. But that thought wasn’t going to help anything now. I wasn’t going to waste my time thinking about how I’d gotten myself into this situation. My gaze stayed fixed on the plate, my fork moving in robotic circles as I tried to block him out.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard the scrape of a chair. Without any warning, Jungkook slid into the seat directly across from me, his leg grazing mine as he did so. I couldn’t help but flinch slightly, my eyes narrowing in response, but I didn’t look up. Not at first. If he thought I was going to acknowledge his presence, he was sorely mistaken.

“So, this is how you're gonna be, huh?” Jungkook’s voice was casual, but there was a hint of amusement behind it.

I resisted the urge to snap at him. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was getting under my skin. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my calm.

I kept my gaze down, forcing myself to finish my pancakes. It wasn’t about the food. It wasn’t about the luxury of the breakfast bar. It was about controlling myself, staying composed. The idea of letting him have any kind of power over me made me angry.

Jungkook, however, wasn’t about to let me have my peace. “You really gonna act like I’m not here?” he added, his tone almost playful, but there was an edge to it, like he was enjoying watching me try to hold it together.

My anger simmered, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Do you ever stop being a complete asshole?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, but I didn’t regret them. He was the one who had disrupted my peace. He was the one who had kept me awake all night. He deserved every bit of my irritation.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his gaze intense as it held mine for a beat. Then, as if realizing the full extent of what I was saying, his expression softened just a little. "My bad," he said, but the way he said it felt dismissive, like he didn’t really care at all.

My bad? That was it? After everything? He was acting like it was just a minor inconvenience to him, and it pissed me off even more. There was no apology in his voice, no empathy for the fact that I hadn’t slept at all the night before. It was like he couldn’t be bothered.

I set my fork down and exhaled sharply, my patience wearing thin. I finished my pancakes in silence, but the entire time, I felt that knot of anger twisting tighter and tighter in my chest.

As I pushed my plate away, preparing to stand up and leave, I was ready to just get away from him. I couldn’t take being in the same space as him for another second. I could already feel the annoyance bubbling up again, and I just needed to be somewhere else—anywhere else.

But as I stood, ready to leave, Jungkook reached out and grabbed my arm. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, and I froze for a moment, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

For a brief, fleeting second, I thought maybe—just maybe—he was going to apologize. Maybe he was going to admit that he’d been an asshole and that he would stop making so much noise. The warmth of his hand on my arm felt almost... protective, as though he wanted to keep me in place. I half-expected him to say something like, “I’m sorry, I’ll turn the volume down next time.”

But instead, the smirk spread across his face, and his grip tightened just a little. "You know," he began, his voice low, teasing, "your shorts are inside out."

I froze, my face flushing a deep crimson as I looked down, horrified to see the tag sticking out of the waistband. Of course, I thought. Of course, he’d notice something like that.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I hurriedly yanked at the waistband, trying to fix it. My stomach churned with embarrassment, and I could feel the weight of the situation hitting me all at once. My body was still tense from the anger, the lack of sleep, and now, the sheer mortification of having him point out something so trivial, but so incredibly embarrassing.

"Shut up," I muttered, my face burning. I wanted to get out of there, away from his knowing gaze, away from his smirk, away from everything. I stood up abruptly, feeling the urge to just leave before I did something I might regret. "Stupid Jungkook," I muttered under my breath as I quickly walked away, my heart pounding in my chest.

I didn’t look back as I made my way to the elevator, the sting of humiliation and frustration still fresh in my mind. My thoughts were a whirlwind—Why the hell couldn’t I just get some peace? Why was he so impossible?

And yet, as I stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut, I couldn’t help but think—He doesn’t even know how much he’s gotten under my skin. He’s the kind of guy who never gives a damn about anyone else. But I had no choice but to deal with him. He was my neighbor, and I had a feeling that this was just the beginning of a much bigger problem.

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The next few days unfolded exactly like the first—loud thuds, grunts, and the relentless pounding from next door that kept me from getting a single full night of sleep. No matter what time of day it was, it felt like the noise never stopped. I could practically feel the vibrations through the walls, and every time I tried to drift off, the sounds of his training echoed in my ears, only growing louder and more intrusive. I was at my breaking point.

I couldn’t take it anymore. He had turned my peaceful, quiet homecoming into a constant cycle of irritation and exhaustion. I had tried to be patient, but no more. It was time for a little payback.

I thought about it carefully—how to retaliate without it looking like I was being petty. The solution came to me one evening, like a light bulb going off in my head. I was going to play the piano. But not just play it. I would play it in a way that would get under his skin, just like he had done to me. I knew I had to be strategic.

So, I placed a call to have a piano delivered to my apartment. I set it up near the window so the sound would bounce right off the walls. I spent the next few hours playing scales, messing around with random notes, and making sure every press of the keys was off-pitch, each note slightly dissonant. All while wearing noise-canceling headphones, of course, ensuring I couldn’t hear a thing. My purpose was simple: to be as annoying as possible, to drown out his noise with my own.

For hours, I played with purpose—pressing the wrong keys deliberately, hitting sharp and flat notes with no care for melody or rhythm. It felt oddly satisfying to take control of the situation, to disrupt his training the way he had disrupted my sleep.

Then, just as I started to think I had finally achieved a moment of sweet vengeance, I heard it. A loud bang—like someone had kicked my door. My smirk curled into a grin as I turned the volume on the piano down, straining to listen.

The door rattled with another forceful knock. I stood up and smoothed my shirt, bracing myself for the confrontation. I knew who it was before I even opened the door. The deep, frustrated sigh, the unmistakable presence of him standing on the other side. As I pulled it open, I was met with the sight of Jungkook standing in the doorway, shirtless, his well-defined tattoos now fully on display. His breath was ragged, and his expression was dark, almost seething.

I couldn’t help but notice how much more intimidating he looked without a shirt. His muscles rippled with every movement, and his tattoos—dark, intricate—made him look even more imposing. But none of that could disguise the anger that flashed across his face.

He took a step forward, his eyes burning with irritation. “Are you on something?” he asked, his voice low and rough, the anger evident in his tone.

I blinked innocently, feigning a calm I didn’t quite feel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice dripping with sweetness, though my mind was anything but. Inside, I was brimming with a sense of victory—he had come to me, just like I knew he would.

He was seething now, his fists clenching at his sides. “This isn’t funny,” he growled, his voice dropping into a warning. “You’ve been playing that damn thing for hours. I could hear you through the walls. What is it, some kind of revenge thing?”

I raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile tugging at my lips. “Revenge?” I repeated, making a show of thinking. “I’m not sure. I’m just practicing. I don’t know why you’re so bothered by it.”

The room between us felt charged with tension, his anger mixing with my frustration. For a moment, neither of us spoke. I could practically feel the standoff, the quiet before something bigger broke out.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his expression softening just a bit. "Look," he muttered, clearly trying to calm himself down, "you need to stop playing that piano. It's driving me insane."

I didn’t back down, my eyes narrowing. "You think I want to listen to you training all day?"

We stared each other down, neither of us willing to back off. The silence between us grew thick, before he exhaled sharply, a reluctant agreement slipping from his lips. "Fine. Here’s the deal. I’ll cut my training down."

I felt a rush of relief, knowing I had found a middle ground. And I was finally getting some control back. "Alright," I said, my voice firmer now. "And I’ll keep playing the piano for a few hours in the morning." I crossed my arms and looked at him expectantly.

Jungkook stared at me for a long moment, his chest still heaving slightly from the anger and the physical exertion. But finally, he nodded.

“Deal.”

I smirked, satisfied. "Good," I said, giving him one last look. "I’ll hold you to that."

With that, I closed the door between us, my heart racing with the adrenaline of the standoff. I had won this round. It felt good. But something told me this wasn’t the last time we’d clash. Not by a long shot.

The night that followed was the most peaceful one I’d had in ages. No incessant thumping, no distant grunts, no thuds of a punch landing on a bag or weights clanging in a makeshift gym. Just the soft hum of the city around me, the kind that I had long since gotten used to but had never truly appreciated until now. It was like the universe had decided to give me a break, a moment of silence after the chaos that Jungkook had brought into my life.

I settled into the quiet, my body finally relaxing after what felt like an eternity of exhaustion. But still, the strange thoughts kept bubbling up in my mind—thoughts I didn’t want to entertain, yet couldn’t push away. Jungkook. The man who had once been the object of my high school crush, and who now, in a strange twist of fate, was my infuriatingly loud neighbor.

Curiosity gnawed at me, making it impossible to focus. I needed to know more about him. What had happened to that carefree boy I had crushed on all those years ago? What was he like now? What has changed? I grabbed my phone, typing his name into the search bar, almost hesitantly. The results came up almost instantly, and I was met with a flood of information that left me speechless.

Jungkook was not just any man. He was a world-famous boxer. His net worth? Billions. Billions. It was hard to wrap my head around. No wonder he spent so much time training—he wasn’t just trying to maintain a career, he was trying to stay at the top of his game. And with that much money, it made sense why he lived the way he did. No wonder he didn’t seem to care about the noise he was making. He was too far removed from the rest of us.

I leaned back, staring at the phone screen. It was so surreal to think about. In high school, Jungkook had been the charming, confident athlete, always surrounded by the popular girls who adored him, their hands all over him, praising him like he was some kind of god. I had been a quiet girl, more interested in my grades than in chasing popularity. He never noticed me then, and looking at him now, it wasn’t much of a surprise that he didn’t recognize me.

But still, part of me couldn’t help but wonder how much of the man I saw now was still that same guy. Was he still driven by the same love for sports, the same desire to be the best? Or had he become consumed by his success, turning into someone completely different?

I pushed the thoughts aside. No need to dwell on it. I had my own life now, my own accomplishments, and I didn’t need to compare myself to him. Still, the question lingered: What happened to the Jungkook I once admired?

I decided I needed a change of scenery. I couldn’t stay cooped up in my room any longer. I slid open the balcony door and stepped outside, grateful for the cool air that hit my skin. The city stretched out before me, the lights from the streets below twinkling like stars, and the faint sounds of traffic drifting up. I leaned against the railing, taking in the view, letting my thoughts settle.

I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to focus on the peace of the night. But then, I heard it. A slow exhale, deep and deliberate. My eyes snapped open, and I turned to see none other than Jungkook standing next to me on his balcony, barely a few feet away.

He was shirtless, his hair damp as if he had just stepped out of the shower, and he was holding a cigarette between his fingers. His gaze flicked over to me, and I felt my heart stutter in my chest. There he was, standing like he owned the entire city, as confident as ever. I couldn’t help but notice the tattoos that covered his arms, the muscles that rippled as he moved.

"It’s rude to stare, you know," he said, his voice casual but laced with that same smugness I remembered from high school.

I blinked, a little caught off guard, but quickly regained my composure. "I wasn’t staring," I shot back, crossing my arms.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Yeah, sure. You’re not exactly being subtle, you know."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but I wasn’t about to back down. "What do you want, Jungkook?"

He took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes never leaving me. "I’m bored," he said, his tone almost whiny, but with a hint of frustration. "I'd be training right now, but I can't because of you." He paused, his gaze flicking down to the floor of his balcony before meeting mine again. "It’s kind of annoying, you know. You’ve been killing my vibe."

I stared at him, taken aback. What was he talking about? "You’re the one making all the noise," I said, not bothering to hide the frustration in my voice. "I’ve barely gotten any sleep because of you."

Jungkook just shrugged, unfazed. "Well, I didn’t tell you to move next door to me." His voice was flat, almost dismissive.

I was livid. "Maybe you should learn to be more considerate of the people around you," I snapped, my anger rising again.

He just exhaled smoke and leaned back against the railing. "My bad," he said, his tone sarcastic. "I’ll make sure to send you a nice apology card next time."

I shot him a glare but didn’t respond. We stood there in silence for a moment, the only sounds the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of wind in the trees. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was strangely calm. Then, Jungkook broke the silence again.

“So,” he began, tilting his head slightly, “do you have anything to do right now?” His tone was casual, like he was genuinely asking, but there was a hint of something else behind it.

I was taken aback for a moment. “No,” I answered slowly, wondering where he was going with this.

He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, then glanced over at me with that same mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, if you don't have anything to do... wanna chill for a bit?"

I couldn’t help but stare at him. What was he playing at now? He leaned against the railing casually, his posture relaxed, as if this was some normal, everyday invitation.

“I don’t bite,” he added with a smirk.

I raised an eyebrow, the corners of my mouth twitching. “Sure you don’t,” I said, folding my arms.

He chuckled, unbothered by my sharp reply. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I’m not such a bad guy, you know.”

I hesitated, unsure what to say. Part of me wanted to keep my distance, to keep him at arm’s length. But another part of me… well, curiosity got the best of me. He was right about one thing: we hadn’t really talked outside of all the noise and hostility. Maybe it was worth a shot.

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes, but there was no hiding the small smile that tugged at my lips. "I’ll chill for a bit. But don’t get any weird ideas."

His grin widened, and without missing a beat, he pushed off from the railing, heading toward the entrance to his apartment. “Good. Come over.”

221 notes · View notes

yannawayne · 6 months ago

Text

vi. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

NOTE: THIS IS PART 6. I POSTED 2 CHAPTERS TODAY! PART 5 IS HERE

 ༻⊰───⋅

"No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 8:35 AM - Gotham Academy, Gotham City.

The halls of Gotham Academy buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter—a total disconnect from the storm of nerves brewing inside you. You zigzagged through the crowd, your trusty, battle-worn Converse scuffing against the linoleum. Damian’s varsity jacket hung over your uniform, the hood pulled low to hide the cuts on your face.

Morgan had ditched you at the entrance, probably off to plot some mad science in the labs. Not exactly your idea of fun, so you opted for aimless wandering instead.

And if I only could I'd make a deal with God. And I'd get Him to swap our places. Be runnin' up that road. Be runnin' up that hill Be runnin' up that building.

Your headphones were snug, the music offering a temporary refuge as you walked, your head instinctively nodding to the beat. Even with the volume cranked up, you couldn’t shake the awareness of every shift in the crowd, the way the jacket rubbed against your sore muscles, or the stiffness in your back and arm from the muscle tear. Concerned whispers drifted past you, catching on the currents of passing conversations, but you kept moving, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm of the song.

When you reached Damian’s locker, you leaned against it, letting the cool metal soothe your aching back. You adjusted the hood of his jacket, tugging it further down to hide the cuts around your face. With your free hand, you quickly typed out a message to Damian, your fingers flying over the screen, each tap a small burst of nervous energy.

You:

"At your locker."

You hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket, then immediately pulled it out again. This time, you opened Twitter, your thumb instinctively scrolling through your feed for any updates on the recent incident.

Tweets about the attack were already trending, paired with blurry photos and clickbait headlines. You cringed as fan accounts for #Nightcrawler started flooding in. It was wild how fast the public’s attention could flip from genuine concern to a full-blown obsession with the latest hero—or villain.

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders building as you scrolled through the flood of posts.

“Beloved?”

A tanned hand brushed gently against your arm, followed by the sight of polished brown dress shoes stepping into view.

“Dami,” you murmured with a relieved smile, leaning into his hold, your head still bowed.

Damian instinctively pulled you into a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The embrace was firm but careful, as if he feared you might break under too much pressure. He could feel the stiffness in your muscles, your body wound tight with unspoken tension. His eyes narrowed with concern, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak for both of you.

His gaze flicked to your phone screen, catching sight of the trending tweets.

“Nightcrawler…” Damian murmured, and you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Sighing, you shifted so your cheek rested against his chest, the cool scent of his cologne grounding you. You kept scrolling, clicking on a particularly cringeworthy tweet and wincing at the fanatical comments.

“Can you believe these people?” you murmured, frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s insane.”

Sometimes you wondered how Damian and his brothers dealt with all the fanatics, the constant drooling over their hero personas—or even their civilian lives.

Damian’s grip tightened as he held you closer, his brow furrowing in disapproval as he read the tweets over your shoulder.

Repulsive. To him, it was a grotesque spectacle. The media had managed to paint the Spider into a celebrated hero, a figure of admiration, when in reality, the person behind that mask was nothing more than a monster, cloaked in deception and false heroism.

“They’re utterly obsessed,” Damian scoffed. “It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten there’s a real person behind that mask.”

“I know, right?” You sighed, closing Twitter and slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Like, I really don’t want to see those posts. They’re just—so much.”

Damian noticed your distress and instinctively started rubbing soothing circles on your back. But as his hand moved, a sharp muscle spasm seized your shoulder. You cursed, a wince escaping you as the sensation left you momentarily frozen. It felt as if someone had taken a wrench to your shoulder, yanking and twisting until every fiber protested in sharp, jarring bursts.

Damian’s hand froze.

Muscle tear. He realized.

Without a word, he guided you gently into a nearby janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling hallway and granting you both some much-needed privacy.

Inside, he carefully placed his hand on your elbow and began to stretch the affected muscle. You winced as a sharp twinge of pain flared, but Damian’s voice was soft and soothing.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, offering a small but comforting distraction from the pain.

Gradually, the pain eased, and you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders relaxed, the tight knots unwinding.

"I love you and your weird Robin skills," you said with a grateful smile, rolling your shoulders and feeling the tension dissipate.

Damian’s lips twitched into a faint, approving smile, though his voice remained gruff. “Love you too.”

He continued to watch you with a keen, sharp gaze, noticing the hood of your hoodie pulled up. His eyes traced the shadowy outline of your face, and he realized he hadn’t seen it clearly. His expression shifted to one of concern, a frown creasing his brow.

“Why haven’t you taken your hood down?” he asked quietly, his voice low and probing.

You pursed your lips, trying to edge toward the exit. But before you could make a clean getaway, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back into him. You collided with his chest, and for a second, it felt like you’d just hugged a brick wall in a hoodie.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, nowhere, apparently,” you sighed, realizing escape wasn’t in the cards today.

“Look. I just didn’t want to get my hair messed up,” you continued, trying to sound casual, but the words felt hollow in the small, enclosed space.

“Oh yeah…?” Damian murmured in disbelief, his voice thick with something darker. His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he bent down to your height, his rough fingers sliding up your jacket. You felt the fabric shift and the warmth of his hand against your side.

You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders. Your nails dug into the fabric of his uniform as you tried to push him back.

“Pull the hood off,” he demanded, his hands working insistently to tug it up. You sputtered out protests, swatting at his hands, but Damian was relentless. “Habibti, let me see! Pull it up—let me see!”

Your grip on the hood tightened, your knuckles going white as you held on for dear life. But Damian’s concern bulldozed through any resistance you put up. He mumbled curses, and suddenly shifted tactics. Bending down, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. He pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as your weight pressed into his hips.

"Damian, stop!" you groaned, trying to push him away.

But he ignored your plea, yanking the hood off. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the full extent of your injuries. Cuts and bandages marred your face, some fresh, others scabbing over. Dark bruises colored your cheek, spreading out like ominous clouds.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, even though he was already cursing a certain spider vigilante in his head. Damian dipped his head low, his dangerous glare cutting through you. “Tell me who hurt you, and I’ll make them pay.”

“Baby, you’re being melodramatic. It’s just a few bruises,” you deflected, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll survive.”

“Plus, it’s not like you can just go around punching everyone who hurts me,” you huffed, wincing as you tried to pull your hood back up. Damian scowled and yanked it down again.

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh my god,” you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to stifle a smile. “I hate you so much.”

Damian tightened his hold, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Our relationship status says otherwise. And I’m not letting go until I get answers.”

You squirmed in his embrace, attempting to free yourself, but he held you tightly. “Seriously, let go.”

“No.”

“You’re going to miss your first period.”

“And?”

“Your education will be in ruins.”

“Beloved, my GPA is already at a 5.0. I’ve been at the top of my class since junior high. Missing one period won’t ruin my future.”

You groaned and grabbed the nearest object—a mop. Raising it in a mock-threatening manner, you declared, “I’m seriously considering hitting you with this until you let me go.”

Damian gave a flat “Tch,” raising a hand to the metal handle. With a casual squeeze, he bent the metal in half effortlessly. You blinked.

Okay, that's a little annoying, but also super, super, super hot.

“Seriously? You’re showing off now?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Showing off?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I’m merely proving a point.”

“I can handle myself!” you insisted, frustration creeping into your voice.

“Clearly,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re covered in cuts and bruises.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over.

“I would be delighted to,” Damian replied, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness that was equal parts enticing and infuriating.

"Ugh!" you groaned, pulling the hood back over your face in a futile attempt to hide.

“Drop the theatrics and tell me what happened,” he sighed, tugging the hood back down. “I need to know so I can handle it.”

“I already handled it! I just need some rest, okay?” you retorted, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."

Damian’s jaw tightened at your response, setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d need to dig deeper—because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that you weren’t giving him the full story.

"You're not telling me everything," he said firmly. "But I’ll find out. I always do."

“Uh-huh, sure," you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and yanked him closer. “You’re such a control freak, you know that?”

Damian scowled, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “And you’re impossibly stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, you’re nosy.”

“Nosy?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “I prefer the term thorough.”

“Right,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. You shook your head with a smile and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”

Damian’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between you. You melted into him, pulling him into a tender kiss. Damian hummed softly, the vibration tickling your lips and adding a cozy warmth to the moment. He kissed you again, and again, each one a little more affectionate than the last. Your laughter bubbled up, breathy and light, as you both got caught in a playful rhythm. His nose nudged against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

The sudden ringing of the school bell cut through the moment.

“Mmph!” You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at your lips as you gently stroked his cheek. “You… probably should get to class.”

It took a few more (okay, a lot more) minutes before Damian finally let you go. You practically had to wrestle your way out of his arms, like he was a kid clinging to a favorite toy. When you told him to go back to class instead of tagging along with you and Morgan, he sulked like a toddler.

Despite his stormy mood, you managed to convince him to head back. As you both stepped out of the closet, Damian trudged away with a grumble, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.

“Behave yourself,” you laughed, waving him away before setting off to find Morgan.

When you finally spotted her by the entrance, she was holding up a flash drive like it was the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, you looked like you’d just been through a whirlwind: your hair was a tousled mess, your jacket was askew, and your tie was twisted at an odd angle.

“Got the goods?” you asked, breathless as you straightened your tie and smoothed down your messy hair.

“Yep,” Morgan said with a grin, her eyes darting to your state of disarray. “Damn. A janitor’s closet, huh? I see it got pretty heated in there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, scoffing and giving her a kick to the shin. “Nothing happened, you ass. We were just talking. I had to practically wrestle my way out because he was going nuts over my injuries.”

Morgan chuckled, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with him.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know it was the janitor’s closet, anyway?"

“CCTV,” Morgan simply shrugged. “Was checking out the live feed for security. And I figured you two were up to something when I saw you both ducking out of the room. The system was laughably easy to hack into. I was honestly surprised.”

“You’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” you snarked. “Anything less than government-level encryption is basically child’s play for you.”

Morgan grinned. “True that. But there’s one tiny issue.” She raised a finger and twirled it in the air. “I might have tripped a few alarms.”

WEE-OWW-WEE-OWW!

The distant blare of sirens cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blue lights began to flicker through the windows.

You stared at Morgan, incredulous.

“What. What the fuck!? What did you do?”

“Let’s just say security’s gonna be a bit more interested in our location now. Oopsie!” Morgan’s grin widened. “I had to shut down some things to avoid detection. So, the power’s going to go out in 3…2…1.”

As she finished her countdown, the lights flickered erratically before plunging the hallway into complete darkness. A heartbeat later, the wail of the announcement system cut through the silence, urgently repeating, “Please evacuate the building. Please evacuate immediately.” The strobing red emergency lights cast frantic shadows, and chaos erupted as students screamed, darting from classrooms and colliding in the dark.

Morgan spread her arms wide, a triumphant grin plastered across her face as if she’d just dropped a mic. “Boom.”

“What the hell about this screams ‘stealth’ to you?” you whisper-shouted, grabbing Morgan’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.

Morgan’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she squeezed your hand in return. "It’s way more fun this way."

You both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing through the hallways and mingling with the blaring alarms.

Turning a corner, you nearly collided with a group of students stumbling through the chaos. Their faces were masks of panic. One of them tripped, sprawling onto the floor with an undignified thud.

“Watch it! Are you okay?” you shouted, skidding to a halt and kneeling to help the fallen student.

Morgan, unable to hold back, burst into laughter. “Dumbasses!”

You shot her a half-angry, half-exasperated look. “Just get us out of here before we get arrested for public disturbance!”

“Right behind you!” Morgan said, grabbing your hand again and pulling you both into a sprint. As you neared the exit, the muffled voices of security personnel grew louder, rushing to restore power. With one last burst of speed, you burst through the exit doors, the alarms fading into the distance.

Morgan looked over at you, her face glowing with sweat and a victorious grin. “And that’s how you make an exit.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

After your adrenaline-pumping escape and a bumpy ride across the city in an Uber that looked like it had seen better days—note to self: next time, cab— you finally made it back to the safehouse.

Morgan was already at the main table, surrounded by a chaotic sea of files and documents spread out across multiple screens. Her eyes were locked onto the flash drive she’d pulled from the school, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sifted through the data.

A few steps away, you were hunched over a cluttered workbench in the tech area, surrounded by spools of web fluid and a mess of metal tools. The entire day had been spent tinkering, but finally, your whip project was coming together.

With a few final tweaks, you picked up the whip and gave it a few test swings.

You couldn’t help but think back to when you were a kid, watching Selina work her whip with that effortless skill. You’d sit in the corner of the training room, eyes wide, totally mesmerized. She made it look so easy, so natural. Inspired, you’d sneak off to your room after her sessions, grabbing whatever you could find—a belt, a rope, anything that even remotely resembled a whip. You’d slam the door behind you and practice in secret.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror—awkward, stumbling, and kind of a hot mess—but you didn’t give a damn. You’d keep at it, again and again, dead set on matching her skill, even if it meant looking like a total idiot in the process.

CRACK!

Morgan jumped, her chair spinning around as she stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you sauntered toward her, twirling the whip around your body. The webbing swirled through the air, curving gracefully around you in a move straight out of Catwoman's playbook. With a final flourish, you cracked it down onto the floor, the sharp snap echoing through the room.

Morgan’s ears flushed red, and she shifted in her chair, clearly taken aback. “Woah. That’s hot as fuck.”

You laughed, tossing her a wink. “Glad you think so. I was channeling my inner Catwoman.”

Still a bit flustered, Morgan cleared her throat and extended her hand. You placed the whip into her palm, and she inspected it closely, her fingers tracing the intricate details of your craftsmanship.

“Seriously, though,” she said, looking up at you, “Where’d you learn to handle a whip like that?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just a little bit of practice, you know? I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”

Your gaze then shifted to her screen, where a file on Ivy's toxins was open. Charts, chemical structures, and old lab notes cluttered the display.

“Thought you were going through Octavius’ files?” you asked.

“Oh, I was," Morgan handed the whip back to you with a shrug.

"But then I stumbled on this.” She pointed at the screen. “Insane, right? Did you know Gotham University lets their Botany majors examine Ivy’s toxins? There are detailed reports from student lab projects—college students analyzing some seriously dangerous stuff. Who thinks that's a good idea?”

You arched an eyebrow. “It’s Gotham University. Top in the country. They probably consider it a rite of passage. It’s not like the city holds back on the bizarre.”

Morgan shook her head, her disbelief morphing into a bemused smile. “Seriously, though, it’s even in their chemistry curriculum. ‘Advanced Chemistry: How to Survive Ivy’s Toxins 101.’ Like, what kind of class is that?”

You chuckled. “Sounds like standard Gotham fare. The city has a way of turning even the most mundane academic subjects into survival skills.”

As you stared at the file, your mind drifted to Ivy—Pamela Isley, who had once been a big part of your life. Back when she was close with Selina, you even used to call her Aunt Isley. It felt right at the time, natural, given how much she was around.

One memory stood out: Ivy had to leave town, and she’d entrusted Selina with her beloved plants. You were just a kid, but you remember how excited you were to have Ivy’s vibrant greenery filling the place. Selina had promised to take good care of them, but… she forgot. Just plain forgot to water them.

When Ivy returned, the plants were withered and dead. For someone like Ivy—an eco-terrorist with a green thumb so legendary she could probably make a cactus bloom in a snowstorm—this was more than just a mistake. It felt like a betrayal.

The fallout was brutal. Ivy was livid, and Selina was wrecked. If you hadn’t been there to calm things down, Ivy might’ve strangled Selina with a vine on the spot.

Morgan sighed dramatically, pushing her chair back from the screen and stretching like a cat. "I’m so over these files," she announced, spinning around to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We need to do something fun."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued as she started navigating through a map on her command center. "What are you up to?"

"Finding us a little adventure," she replied, her grin widening as she zoomed in on a spot on the outskirts of Gotham. "Look at this—an old, supposedly abandoned greenhouse. Rumor has it, it’s still full of Ivy’s plants. We should go check it out."

You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You want to go trespassing in an abandoned greenhouse filled with potentially dangerous plants?"

Morgan shrugged with a carefree grin. "Why not? It’s way more exciting than sitting here with these boring files. Besides, think of the intel we could gather! Maybe even some samples. If you're serious about this hero thing, having some cures on hand could be pretty useful."

You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, my focus was on tech companies. Not plants."

Morgan leaned back in her chair, throwing her hands up. "C'mon, it’ll be fun! We could call it a ‘field trip’ for our mission."

You scoffed, but a smirk tugged at your lips as you grabbed your glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one among the two of us?”

Morgan shot you a playful smile as she grabbed her jacket. “Smart enough to know when we need a break.”

She slung her jacket over her shoulder with a casual flick. “And who knows? We might stumble into something interesting or at least have a hell of a time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, but if this turns into a mess, you’re the one explaining it to Tony.”

“Deal,” Morgan grinned, heading toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here before I lose my mind.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 12:34 AM - Ivy's 'Abandoned' Warehouse, Gotham City.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the overgrown landscape as you swung through the rainy Gotham air. Raindrops pattered against your suit, mixing with the cool breeze as you guided both yourself and Morgan down toward the warehouse’s perimeter. You landed softly on the other side of the fence, the wet ground beneath you squelching slightly.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadows and engulfed by a thick veil of greenery. Vines and creeping plants had swallowed the building, twisting their way up the walls and breaking through the broken windows. Shrubs and wild foliage sprawled across the once-smooth concrete, creating a tangled jungle that had overtaken the area.

You and Morgan navigated through the thick underbrush, your footsteps muffled by the lush carpet of foliage.

“Welcome to the jungle,” Morgan whispered, adjusting her glasses as raindrops collected on the lenses. She reached for a flashlight, flicking it on to cut through the gloomy darkness.

“Did you really have to pick the creepiest spot in Gotham?” you muttered, glancing around warily. Your spider senses buzzed faintly, a low hum that told you to stay alert, though you weren’t entirely sure what you should be on the lookout for.

As you approached the warehouse’s entrance, you noticed the heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar, propped open by a stubborn vine wedged in the gap. You took a few steps back, then charged at the door with all your might. It crashed inward with a resounding clang, sending splinters flying and the vine recoiling.

CLANG!

You kicked the door aside and stepped into a scene that looked like something straight out of a botanical horror movie. The interior of the warehouse was a riot of green. Hanging plants and tendrils formed a dense canopy overhead. The remnants of old plant pots and scientific equipment were half-buried under layers of creeping vines and moss.

“Keep your eyes peeled for anything useful,” you said, stepping inside.

The plan was simple: infiltrate the location, gather as much information as possible, and leave before anyone even noticed you were there.

Your boots squelched slightly on the damp ground as you made your way further into the labyrinth of greenery. Morgan followed close behind, her flashlight beam scanning the surroundings.

“Looks like she really made herself at home. Can’t believe she’d leave all these beauties behind,” she murmured.

After a few minutes of searching, you stumbled upon a makeshift lab tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. Old tables and shelves, now covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, held an assortment of glassware, old notebooks, and strange samples.

Morgan’s eyes lit up as she approached the lab. “This must be it! Look at all this stuff.”

Kneeling down, she began sifting through the clutter, her flashlight revealing dusty glassware, faded notebooks, and a variety of botanical samples in various states of preservation. She carefully picked up a few jars, examining the contents with growing fascination.

You stood guard by the door, senses on high alert. The slow hum of your spider senses gradually intensified, morphing into a persistent, almost blaring buzz in the back of your mind. It felt like a magnetic pull, drawing your focus to every flicker of shadow and rustle of the unseen.

Morgan, oblivious to your heightened alertness, was engrossed in a particularly worn notebook.

"This is so fucking cool," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Check out these notes—they look like they’re from Ivy’s earlier research. She was experimenting with ways to boost plant growth, mixing toxins, and even concocting some kind of antidote."

As Morgan continued to study the notebook, the buzzing in your senses grew stronger. You tensed, feeling a prickling chill race up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There was something else in the warehouse—something you couldn’t immediately identify, but it was there.

“Morgan,” you said quietly. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

Morgan looked up from her work, fingers curled around a test tube. “What do you mean?”

“Just keep your eyes open,” you warned, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. “Start packing up and be quick. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Morgan’s fingers flew over the lab equipment as she grabbed several samples and shoved them into her bag. The air seemed to grow thicker, the plants rustling with an almost eerie liveliness.

!!!

“We need to go. Now!” you hissed, urgently grabbing Morgan and pulling her to her feet.

Morgan flinched but scrambled up, stuffing the worn notebook she’d found into her jacket. “Alright… let me just—”

Before she could finish, your spider senses exploded into a full-blown scream of warning.

DANGER.

“Get down!”

Without warning, you grabbed Morgan and pushed her down behind some crates, your suit beginning to uncloak.

A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, slamming into your side with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Pain exploded where the vine struck, radiating through your ribs as you skidded backward and crashed into a metal rack.

Your helmet hadn’t fully materialized in time, and the impact with the shelving unit sent a jarring shock through your skull, leaving you dazed and disoriented.

"A little spider has wandered into my web~"

Shit.

Warmth trickled down from your forehead where the impact had split the skin. With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the rack, using it for support as you steadied yourself.

"Hello, crazy plant lady," you quipped, your helmet materializing as the voice modulator kicked in.

You weren’t her estranged niece now; you were Nightcrawler, Gotham's latest hero.

From above, Ivy unfurled herself from the ceiling, smirking as she lounged on a sprawling leaf. Vines curled around her with languid grace, reacting to her slightest gesture as if extensions of her will.

"Ah, Gotham's newest little hero," Ivy's voice was a melodious yet chilling purr, her laughter echoing softly through the warehouse. "What brings you to my sanctuary?"

The slits in your mask narrowed as you drew your claws and unclipped your whip from your belt. Ivy’s eyes narrowed at the choice of weapons, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She was clearly connecting the similarities between you and Catwoman.

"Oh, just swinging by to see what all the fuss is about. Heard you've been busy in Gotham."

Ivy's smile sharpened, a glint of admiration lighting up her emerald eyes.

"Hm. Spunk," she purred, hands moving to tangle in her hair. "I do appreciate that in my visitors."

Out of the corner of your visor, you spotted Morgan inching away. You gave her a discreet nod, signaling her to keep going while you kept your focus locked on Ivy.

"So, this place wasn’t as abandoned as I thought," you said, trying to keep Ivy talking and distracted. "For someone who supposedly retired from the spotlight, you sure know how to throw a party."

Ivy threw her head back and laughed. "Retired?" she repeated. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."

Around you, vines stirred, their sinewy tendrils snaking up your legs like snakes. Unfazed, you subtly shifted your weight, and then, with a swift slash of your claws, the vines split apart. You flipped away, slipping out of their grasp with ease.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice when my darlings are disturbed?” Ivy’s voice dripped with mockery. “Just when I finally manage to reclaim this space from concrete and steel, pests like you decide to get curious.”

“Look, I’ve got a busy schedule,” you quipped, narrowly dodging a lashing vine. “So how about we skip the tango and save us both a night of pain?”

“Oh, you’re simply delightful,” Ivy purred,sultry and chilling. “Very well, little spider. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

In a heartbeat, Ivy was in motion. Vines shot through the air like whips, each one aiming to entangle or strike. You sidestepped a thick vine that snapped past your ear and rolled under another that slammed into the floor where you’d just been. Your senses were on fire.

Beep!

In the corner of your visor, Morgan’s face flickered into view—a welcome sight amid the chaos. The camera feed was shaky, but you could make out her anxious expression as she huddled behind a stack of crates, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“Are you okay?” you hissed through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of vines around you.

“M Outside! Sorry! I…I didn’t realize Ivy was here!” Morgan said, her voice tinged with panic. “I thought this place was a total ghost town!”

“Apologize later!” you shouted back, ducking a swinging vine. “Just stay out of sight. I’ll catch up with you once I deal with the plant lady!”

With a quick flip, you barely managed to dodge another flurry of whipping vines. You drew back your whip and snapped it towards the incoming tendrils, slicing through them.

Ivy scowled, her eyes narrowing as she watched her plants get cut down. She retaliated, sending a fresh wave of vines hurtling toward you.

You dodged and weaved, the thick, green tendrils brushing against your suit. Each crack of your whip was followed by a sharp hiss of defeated foliage.

You charged through, ducking and weaving to avoid the onslaught. When you were close enough, you landed a solid left hook to Ivy’s face, the impact echoing with a satisfying thud. Ivy’s head snapped back with a sharp yelp of pain. You laughed, not giving her a moment to regroup, and threw another punch straight to her jaw.

JAB!

“Had enough, or should I keep going?” you taunted.

Ivy’s eyes flared with rage. “You little—”

Leaping onto a stack of crates to dodge another lash from her vines, you shot a web at Ivy. The sticky strands wrapped around her wrists, pinning her securely against a nearby support beam.

Ivy struggled against the webbing, her vines twitched with agitation as they lashed out. You kept your whip and claws at the ready, prepared for any sudden moves.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you want more of your precious plants turned into mulch, I suggest you calm down.”

“Calm down?” Ivy hissed, her frustration barely contained. “You’re the intruder here, desecrating my sanctuary. I won’t tolerate this!”

You took a deep breath, trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I’m really sorry about the intrusion. Didn’t mean to step on your botanical toes. We were just here to explore—”

“Explore?” Ivy’s brow shot up. “Is that why your friend took of my vials and papers?”

You stared at her, blinking a few times. Then, with a sheepish shrug, you said, “Okay, to be fair, you left that stuff lying around. It kind of looked like it was up for grabs. Plus, we didn’t exactly see a ‘Keep Out’ sign.”

“So, it’s a case of ‘finders keepers,’ then?” she scowled. “And here I thought you were a little more refined than that.”

“Hey!” you said, walking towards her until you were just a foot away. “I’m just calling it like I see it, lady. Maybe if you knew how to clean up, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ivy tossed her hair over her shoulder, the golden-orange strands cascading like vines down her back. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your jaw, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

“Well, if you’re so keen on exploring,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper, “I could show you something that’ll really satisfy your curiosity.”

!!!

Your spider senses flared with urgent warnings, but before you could react, Ivy thrust a slender vine beneath the edge of your helmet. In an instant, a cloud of pollen erupted inside your mask, catching you completely off guard. You gasped and choked, stumbling backward as your vision blurred and your nose was overwhelmed by the suffocating, heady scent of the pollen.

Your visor’s alarms blared, vitals flashing urgently:

TOXIN DETECTED.

“Damn it,” you grimaced as a searing heat began to radiate through your skin and bones. The prickling sensation quickly escalated into an intense burn, making it feel like your blood was boiling beneath your skin.

“Morgan!” you called out. “Find me an escape route, now!”

"Underestimated me?" Ivy cackled. "Thought you could resist my charms, did you?"

Morgan’s shaky voice crackled through the comms. “I’m searching for a way out! Just hang in there!”

“Oh, you won’t be escaping that easily,” Ivy sneered at you, still trapped in your webs. Despite her restraints, her vines writhed and twisted with a life of their own. “This is my domain, and you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You gritted your teeth, struggling against the searing pain as the vines inched closer. “Alright, I’m really sorry for this, but I’m done playing nice.”

With a sharp flick of your wrist, you shot a web at a vase perched precariously on a high shelf. The vase tumbled through the air and crashed down onto Ivy’s head, shattering into a shower of shards and a splash of crimson.

Ivy screamed as the shards rained down, a flurry of leaves and flowers cascading over her head and shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision.

Morgan's face reappeared on your visor, her brow furrowed with worry. “There’s a clear window—no vines blocking it! Hurry! I marked it on your map!”

Glancing at the map in your visor, you spotted the indicated window.

"This was nice, but I’ve got places to be and people to save," you heaved, your voice breathy as you kicked away a lashing vine. "So if you don’t mind, I'll be taking my leave."

THWIP.

Launching yourself through the open window, you felt the cool, rain-soaked Gotham air slap your face as you soared into the night. The roar of the storm and the distant hum of the city below filled your senses. Behind you, Ivy’s furious shouts pierced through the downpour, her curses mingling with the crack of thrashing vines slamming against the walls.

“PEST!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 1:05 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

"Robin, status?" Oracle's voice beeped in from Damian's earpiece.

Damian was perched on a rooftop, jade eyes scanning the dark expanse of Crime Alley below. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the cold droplets cascading off the edges of his hood and dripping onto his shoulders.

From his vantage point, he could see the dilapidated buildings lining Crime Alley, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning. The streets below were deserted, the few brave souls out in the storm moving quickly, their faces obscured by umbrellas and hoods. Puddles formed in the uneven pavement, reflecting the occasional flicker of streetlights.

He lifted a gloved hand to his communication device, the wet leather squeaking slightly against the earpiece.

"I'm in my usual position," he reported, his voice steady. "No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'," Damian scoffed as he kept his eyes trained on the rain-soaked expanse below.

"Demon brat's got a point," Jason drawled, the sound of him slurping a drink faintly audible over the comms. "Harley still calls you Duck-Boy."

"Just focus on the job," Nightwing interjected, his voice slicing through the bickering with an authoritative edge. "Tonight’s a washout. Red Robin and I are on patrol near the docks. We’ve encountered a few low-level crooks, but nothing major."

"Alright," Oracle’s voice came through again. "Stay on high alert. Let me know if anything changes."

As the comms went silent, Damian pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up against the storm's backdrop. For a fleeting moment, his stoic expression softened. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the lock screen—a picture of you, warm and content in one of his shirts, your face framed by tousled hair and a genuine smile.

He noted the time—1:05 AM. Given your unpredictable sleep patterns, you were likely still awake. Damian's finger hovered over the screen, caught between sending a quick message or making a call. But before he could decide, a sharp gust of wind swept across the rooftop, making his cape snap and sending a chill through his soaked uniform.

He slipped the phone back into his belt, shook off the cold, and refocused on the scene below. His eyes scanned the shadowy expanse: dark alleys, rain-slicked roads, and flickering, rusting shop signs.

Then, a sudden, unexpected movement shattered the monotony. A flash of red and white streaked across the skyline, its vibrant colors stark against the darkened sky. A web shot out, glinting briefly in the intermittent lightning before anchoring itself to a nearby building.

THWIP.

There was a pause.

Damian’s lips curled into a sharp snarl. His fingers tightened around the grip of his grappling gun, his mind shifting into high gear. With a scowl, he tapped his earpiece.

“Oracle,” Damian began, boots crunching as he moved to the edge of the rooftop. “I have visual on the spider vigilante. Engaging in pursuit.”

Without waiting for a reply, he fired the grappling gun. The line shot through the air with a metallic twang, slicing through the rain-soaked night. He felt the jolt as the grappling hook latched onto a distant anchor, pulling him forward.

As he swung through the storm, a fierce thrill coursed through him, like a bird unleashed with new wings. With the city sprawled out beneath him and the rain pelting against his face, Robin was ready to do what he did best.

Hunt.

 ༻⊰───⋅

"It's going to take hours to get this smell out of my suit," you heaved, wrinkling your nose as you fired a web into the distant skyline. The line stuck firmly to a building, and with a jarring lurch, you swung deeper into the city.

Morgan clung to you for dear life, her voice barely audible over the rush of air. “Not the time to worry about laundry! Focus on not crashing into something! And maybe on not dying from the poison?!”

"Hey, I’m just saying," you shot back with a strained chuckle, “if I survive this, I’m gonna need to have this suit professionally cleaned.”

Morgan’s grip tightened, and she shouted, “Survive first, clean later!"

With a yank of your web, you aimed for the next rooftop, but as you hurtled through the air, you realized that you’d miscalculated the distance. The rooftop was rushing in too fast, and panic surged through you like ice.

Your stomach lurched, and in a split-second decision, you threw Morgan forward, trying to cushion her fall. She landed with a thud, a breathless gasp escaping her as she hit the roof.

You, however, weren’t so fortunate. Your foot snagged the edge of the roof awkwardly, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

CRACK.

The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the air as your ankle twisted violently. The force of the impact jolted your entire body, sending you sprawling onto the rough, gravelly rooftop.

“Great…” you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, the toxin’s effects amplifying the pain with each passing second.

You bit down hard on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood bubbling into your mouth. You fought to keep yourself upright, but your legs felt like lead, and you crumpled onto the rooftop, unable to fully bear your weight.

“Shit!” Morgan scrambled to her feet, her face a mask of panic and concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”

"Just… a little off target," you panted, wincing as you assessed the damage. Your visor had taken a hit during the fall, causing the data to flicker erratically. Through the static, you could still make out the crucial info: a broken bone.

“It's fine… Just a broken ankle,” you added, trying to maintain your composure despite the sluggishness creeping into your movements.

“You’re getting brain fog and dizziness,” Morgan said urgently, her fingers flipping through the notebook she’d snatched earlier. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We need to get you to the safehouse—”

Before she could finish, you shook your head with a groan. “No. You call a cab and head there. I’ll swing.”

“Are you insane?!” Morgan nearly shouted, grabbing your arm in panic. “You can barely stand, let alone swing through the city! We need to get you help, now!”

You pushed her away, trying to ignore the throbbing in your ankle. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. The suit’s tampered, I think. Look.”

You attempted to uncloack, but the metal sputtered and glitched erratically. “See? I can’t uncloack. If you’re seen with me, they’ll find us out in no time. I can’t risk that.”

Morgan’s eyes darted between you and the malfunctioning suit, her face a mix of worry and frustration. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Stop,” you cut her off, wincing as the pain intensified. “It’s not your fault. Just get to the safehouse. I’ll manage.”

Tears of frustration welled up in Morgan’s eyes. “I can’t just leave you like this!”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. “If we’re both caught, it’ll be worse. Now go! I’ll be fine.”

With one last, apologetic glance, Morgan pulled out her phone and dialed for a cab, her hands trembling.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Damian, concealed in the shadows of the rooftop, landed with a muted thud. He crouched behind the crumbling ledge of an old brick wall, the slits in his mask narrowing as he took in the scene unfolding just a few feet away.

He watched as you struggled to regain your footing, your movements pained and uneven. The girl beside you—her rain-soaked silhouette a blur against the storm—was clearly in a panic, her phone clutched tightly as she fumbled with it.

‘A civilian,’ Damian thought, frustration lining his features. Launching a direct attack now would be reckless. He had to be certain the vigilante was genuinely on their own before making a move.

After a tense moment, the girl finally moved and dashed down the fire escape, her figure barely visible through the downpour. Damian squinted through the sheets of rain, straining to catch a glimpse of her features, but the storm blurred his view into an indistinct smear of color and motion.

The moment she was out of sight, his attention snapped back to you. You took a deep, ragged breath, bracing yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you launched yourself into the night.

Damian followed, his movements fluid and precise as he pushed off from the ledge. His cape billowed behind him like a dark, flowing banner, and he darted into the storm.

Below, the streets were a chaotic blur of honking horns and glaring headlights, their harsh lights slicing through the darkness like knives. Heavy sheets of rain hammered down, obscuring your vision and drenching you to the bone. Water seeped through the cracks in your suit, each drop feeling like an icy needle against your overheated, feverish skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was too much. The pain, the heat, the storm—it was all too much.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale bringing more of Ivy’s insidious toxin into your lungs.

In one desperate swing, you miscalculated the web’s trajectory. It shot out too low, sending you plummeting uncontrollably below.

Cursing through gritted teeth, you were hurled down into traffic. Everything was a blur as you slammed into the side of a car, metal denting and screams deafening your ears. Your shoulder bore the brunt of the collision, sending shockwaves of pain through your bones.

For a brief, suspended moment, everything went dark.

A cold, mechanical voice sliced through the void, its tone harsh and insistent. Maggie’s synthetic voice, though devoid of human warmth, was tinged with urgency.

“Immediate response required. Vitals are critically low. Consciousness levels decreasing. Current status is life-threatening. Please respond.”

Abruptly, your senses snapped back into sharp focus. You jolted awake with a ragged gasp, your breath coming in frantic bursts. Your vision was a fractured mosaic of blinding lights and shadowy figures. The sounds of blaring horns and panicked shouts crashed back into your ears, tires screeching all around you.

Morgan’s voice crackled through the static, panic evident in her tone. “I’m at the safehouse! Where are you? I couldn't reach you! What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” you managed, your voice strained. “I won’t make it to the safehouse in time.”

You tapped the side of your visor, making a map flicker to life through the cracks and glitches. The display was unstable, but it highlighted a route to your apartment.

“You know where my mom's apartment is, right?” you heaved. “That’s where I’m heading.”

Entering your apartment was risky, but with your condition worsening and death looming, it was the closest refuge you could manage.

Damian, hidden in the alleyway, watched you with a furrowed brow. What he initially wrote off as rookie mistakes now seemed out of character. Your disoriented movements were starkly different from the precise maneuvers he had seen in news footage and CCTV feeds. He had been tracking your case closely, and this chaos didn't match the profile he had built.

He watched as you struggled to stand, your legs shaking with each attempt. The driver's shouts were drowned out by the storm of noise around you. Your strained apologies were barely audible. Desperation marked your actions as you fired another web, using it to pull yourself up and away from the wrecked car and the angry crowd.

Damian cursed under his breath and quickly took off after you.

He tracked your erratic path through twisted, narrow streets until he saw you aim for an apartment building. With a quick stretch of your arm, you shot a web toward a balcony, but your aim was off again.

Another sloppily thrown web sent you slamming into the windows of the apartment. The metal edge dug into your ribs with brutal force, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to draw in air. Pain radiated from your side, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere.

Damian, perched on the rooftop across the street, stared in disbelief. This was Catwoman’s apartment—Selina Kyle’s. The worst possible scenario unfolded in his mind. To him, it looked like a break-in. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers gripped the edge of his grappling gun, knuckles whitening with the force of his anger.

Pest.

Without hesitation, Damian leapt into action. He aimed for the fire escape with single-minded intensity, propelling himself toward it with a powerful thrust. His boots hammered against the metal steps, causing them to buckle and the entire structure to groan and rattle under the force of his descent.

In the corner of his eye, he saw your figure slip into the window.

Tunnel-visioned and driven by a surge of protectiveness, Damian kicked the door to the fire escape open, the metal panel scraping roughly across the floor. His father would have his head for causing unnecessary public damage—something Robin was frequently under fire for—but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.

"Was that a crash?!" Nightwing's voice crackled through the comm line.

"I think it's coming from demon brat's side. What's the report, squirt?"

Damian merely growled in response as he began to stalk down the hallway. His tall figure, cloaked in shadows, cast long, dark lines across the floor as he moved. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and menacing over the comms.

"Someone's about to learn the price of crossing me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Dazed and disoriented, you slipped into the building, the rough edge of the window scraping against your battered body. As you tumbled through your apartment, you hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact shaking your entire frame. Your head struck the ground with a thump, stars exploding in your vision.

For a brief, haunting moment, there was silence—deep, oppressive silence. Then, a cold, creeping dread slithered through you.

You clawed at the floor, your body shaking.

"Mom? Mom, please! I need you!" Your voice cracked, a raw, fear seeping through every syllable. "Mom, are you there? Please, help me!"

Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood as you cried out into the empty, echoing apartment. The lights were off, casting the space into a suffocating darkness that seemed to press in on you.

Desperately, you stumbled into Selina’s bedroom. Your heart sank as you noticed the absence of her suit—no sleek, black leather or whip. She must have been out on patrol.

A deafening crash shattered the silence as the apartment door was ripped from its hinges. Before you could fully react, a rough hand clamped down on you, throwing you to the floor.

Your vision blurred in and out of focus as you were pinned to the floor. A heavy foot pressed mercilessly against your chest, crushing your ribs with every breath. The weight lifted, then slammed down again, ripping through your suit with a sickening crunch. The suit uncloaked, its torn pieces clinging to your clothes, leaving you exposed in just your undershirt and pants.

Through the dim, flickering light, the outline of your attacker became clearer. A katana was unsheathed with a chilling rasp, its cold blade pressed menacingly against your neck. The steel gleamed ominously, catching the sparse light and reflecting a deadly shimmer. The edge was so close you could feel its icy touch, a mere breath away from slicing into your flesh.

The thought of that forced you to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to the shadowy figure looming over you.

Tall and imposing, the figure was clad in grey and black armor, with a black cape flowing behind them. A red emblem, unmistakably the symbol of an R, was stitched onto their chest.

A cold realization cut through the fog of pain and fear—Robin?

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

dundunDUN

whatchu think bookiebears

surely the batfam will handle this well

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfamily #dc robin #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne imagine #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batman

425 notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 10 months ago

Text

🎙️ star-crossed lovers 【薄幸な恋人】 ⛦

summ✩ry ⭑⭒⭑ As rehearsals and promotions for your big collab stage with Enhypen become progressively more intense, you and Niki face challenges that might effect your secret relationship and standing with the company...

p✩iring ⭑⭒⭑ idol!niki x popstar!reader PREVIOUSLY

cont✩ins ⭑⭒⭑ band au, fluff, secret romance, kissing + a slightly heated make-out scene, mild bullying, LOTS of drama, reader is younger than Niki, 3.6k words

It felt strange having your hair, makeup, and clothes managed by someone else, especially in such a meticulous way.

Today was the big day of the Riot Grrlz x Enhypen fan meeting that Hybe was hosting in honor of your upcoming collaboration stage, the event acting as some sort of promotional.

The fashion theme for the day, as decided by the likes of an online poll distributed by Enhypen's Instagram account, was 'Schoolgirl / Schoolboy,' which meant everyone would be dressed in plaid neck ties and neatly-ironed button-down blazers.

“This'll have to do,” murmured one of the makeup artist's on duty, simply dusting you with a bit of blush, some gloss, and shimmery eye shadow because they couldn't find a foundation shade that matched your skin color.

“I can't find my contact solution!” Serenity exclaimed frantically in the dressing studio, searching through her sparkly teal duffle bag for the fifth time this hour.

Of course none of you were willing to assist her on the aimless contact solution hunt, especially not with the way she verbally harassed the makeup crew for not "lining her eyes right."

“Just let it go, Ren,” Sunghoon said with an annoyed sigh, “the stylists are making all of us wear glasses for the concept today anyways...”

“Okay first of all, don't call me by my nickname. Second, it's not my vision I'm worried about, but my image,” she clarified matter-of-factly, “I wanna impress the Korean fans with a big and bright boba eye moment...”

“You have sooo many problems,” Jade added with a similar irritation, rolling her eyes at the diva before a hairstylist ran over to clip in another track of fake hair.

“Tell me about it,” Serenity huffed despairingly, sticking her arms out like a scarecrow as the fashion crew adjusted the belt around her waist.

“Let's just try and maintain a good mood before the meeting guys,” you started optimistically amongst the tension, “the fans might pick up on our bad energy if we all show up pouting like this...”

“Easy for you to say,” Niki replied teasingly, “you slept like a baby last night… meanwhile, you kept me up with your insistent snoring…”

“Did not,” you whined in protest, looking back at his attractively playful expression, “it’s not my fault that the stories you tell in your groggy bedtime voice are so relaxing.”

Niki meant to reply but was rudely interrupted by Serenity’s stinky attitude, “Aww, late night bonding moment, I see? Hope a little ‘story time’ was as far as it got for you two lovebirds...”

You and Niki shook your heads in unison at her senseless comment, the rest of Enhypen and your band mates soon rushing out of the dressing room and outside to the awaiting limousine as the schedule manager directed.

“Make sure you have everything you need, guys! We’re running a bit behind on time and can’t afford any more set-backs,” exclaimed a tall, broad man in athletic wear, a black Hybe hat topping off his look.

“Got it, sir,” Jungwon replied politely, double-checking his leather cross-body bag before stepping into the vehicle, the rest of you following after him.

You didn’t expect to see Miss Kim in the front seat with the chauffeur, but you greeted her nonetheless.

“Morning, Miss Kim!,” You and Hearin started enthusiastically.

“Morning, Riot Grrlz,” she returned while not looking at any of you, writing hasty yet neat notes down on her clipboard, “I’ll be bold and assume you ladies have never attended any sort of fan event, correct?”

“Y-yes, that is correct,” Jade answered before you, crossing her legs in her seat, “this’ll be our very first experience today…”

“Oh, that’s cool for you then, isn’t it? Don’t worry if you don’t know what to say or do, by the way... just copy us,” you heard Heeseung encourage somewhere behind you, but your mind was more focused on the way Niki’s hand accidentally brushed against yours while you two glared out of the same window...

Accidentally… maybe…

“I was just getting around to that, Heeseung,” Miss Kim continued after clearing her coffee-stained throat, “Korean fans as a whole are pretty cutthroat, and whether you’re a foreigner or not, they expect you to present yourself a certain way…”

“Perfect,” Sunoo thought out loud, “they expect you to be perfect…”

“That’s just the way this idol life goes, I'm afraid,” Jungwon sighed from his seat, not empathetically, but in a realistic sense.

“Either way, you girls should be safe to mirror whatever the boys are doing if you ever feel confused…” Miss Kim trailed off, the limo being just a few feet from reaching the fan meeting center, “Good luck today, you all.”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Things were turning out surprisingly smooth at the event, to say the least.

Needless to mention, you and Niki stayed pretty close the entire time, and the fans seemed to be amused by your attempt at famous duo heart poses with him.

“Just extend your hand like this,” he instructed while giggling, watching as your overhead heart ended up looking more like an oval to the audience.

Serenity was received as a fan favorite, too, her “boba eye” look captivating the male attendees while others were more entertained in her beginner Korean skills.

“Hwaiting,” she exclaimed confidently before the fans one too many times for your tolerance, Sunghoon’s face clearly showing just how much he was enjoying not being the cringiest person in the room for once.

Or, at least that was until an older fan requested that he and Sunoo sing and dance to the infamous aeygo Ottoke song for good luck at the show tomorrow.

“The things we do for engene,” the two boys collectively thought to themselves while fastening coquette bunny ears atop their heads, hoping that their enthusiasm would override the embarrassment.

It was all just such a culture shock for you and your group.

“Uhhh, a little help here?” Haerin worriedly called out to Jake as a particularly excited Korean fan approached her with a lot to say that she could barely understand.

“Oh- allow me,” Jake offered between the language barrier, translating to Haerin what the fan was trying to tell her.

“She thinks I’m a what now?”

“A K-pop Idol, mostly because of your trendy look today,” Jungwon giggled warmly, “the prophesied eighth member of Enhypen, in fact...”

Haerin laughed with both embarrassment and flattery, trying her best to explain to the young fan that she was a member of the Riot Grrlz and Riot Grrlz only.

Interactive activities continued just as well after this, the event nearing its end as you and Niki did a few TikTok dance challenges for the fans on stage.

Dance challenges that you had practiced with him in eery hours of the night, or whenever you two were left alone in the dance studio.

That, alongside other things too… like stealing sweet kisses here and there… or nearly melting while staring into each others love struck eyes—

“____, right?” A fan asked, approaching you with a blue marker and square of paper.

“Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you,” you returned, keeping eye contact with her, despite the dark shades she wore.

“Nice to meet you, too! I have so many questions to ask you about what it’s like working with Enhypen!… and I really like your hair, too! The highlights look really nice with your outfit hehe… ALSO, I've been listening to a lot of your groups songs recently, and my favorite has to be the main track from your most recent album, it’s so unique!…” the fans voice eventually trailed off shyly.

“Oh my goodness, sorry for rambling!! Uhmmm, can I get your autograph by any chance?”

“Aww, thank you,” you smiled brightly, “and it’s okay! I find it cute how interested you are in my experience and music…”

Your hand reached out to grab the marker from her grasp, your body leaning forward slightly as you signed your name on the photo, resting your weight on the desk before you.

So lost in the moment, you didn’t even realize that the photo you had just signed was one of you and Niki hanging out just outside of Yeouido Park the other night.

It was impossible to hold back the gasp that escaped your throat at the realization, your finger loosing its grip around the marker as your stunned eyes met her knowing ones.

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she chuckled in a facetiously sweet tone, you and her hands fighting over the now autographed-polaroid before your grip overthrew hers.

“Where did you get that—”

“Your secret’s safe with me, alright?” She interrupted with a sharp whisper, “So long as you work on distancing yourself from Niki moving forward…”

You blinked in feigned confusion at her words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re just colleagues—”

“And he’s an idol,” she cut in again, “idols don’t belong to silly American girls like you… you don’t even belong in our world…”

At this point, you're certain she could see how upset you were with her, and you didn't even care to hide it. “Everyone has welcomed me here, expect for you… and to what gain? I’m here with my band solely for work purposes, and I can assure you there is nothing you have to worry about concerning my professionalism.”

Your strong reply seemed to have rubbed her the wrong way, one of her hands fastening the bag over her shoulder while the other adjusted the glasses sitting at her nose.

“Thank you for your time,” she nearly growled at you, that same phony smile plastered to her lips before she hurriedly walked away, disappearing into the crowd of fans.

You let out a breath that you didn't even know you'd been holding, trying to calm yourself down before anyone noticed the silent commotion that had occurred on your side of the meeting booth.

All you could do was hope that this was the only copy or evidence of you and Niki hanging out that night as you folded the paper into a small square, tucking it under your sleeve in a way that no one would notice.

Above all though, you were just glad that the event was coming to an end soon, a few on-set staff members already helping to put away some stage props, meanwhile Sunoo, Heeseung, and Jade helped themselves to bringing along some gifts from fans.

“Hey... uhm, Heeseung? Can I-”

“Yes, Jade,” Heeseung answered with a giggle, “you can have all of my kitty plush gifts...”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The limo ride back to the HYBE building was quiet, the sole thought roaming in the back of your mind being that one fan's cruel words…

…𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶… 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥...

It wasn’t like you were trying to infiltrate the world of K-pop.

You and your group were simply expanding your collab horizons upon being invited, and it seriously boggled you how anyone would have a problem with that—

“Knock knock,” Niki said with a smile in his voice from behind the door to your private backstage dressing room, waiting for your cue that it was safe for him to come in.

“You can come in, Niki,” you replied softly, standing in front of the body length wall mirror while struggling to fix your hair into a suitable style for the stage practice in a few minutes.

“Hi,” you greeted again once he reached you, watching as his eyes traced your reflection, almost immediately picking up on your nervous demeanor.

“You did great today, ____, y’know that?” He started with a low voice, guiding your stressed hands away from your head and resting them at your sides.

“Niki, I have to get ready—”

“And you already look more than prepared,” he encouraged, securing his hands around your waist before leaving a kiss below your ear, “gorgeous, even...”

“Thanks,” you answered shyly, somehow already feeling a bit better about things now that he was near you.

“So. Are you gonna tell me what’s got you upset or are we gonna make this a guessing game?” He teased, making you chuckle a bit as his attempt to cheer you up.

Your eyes fell to the floor, his grip on you loosening as a little sigh escaped your freshly glossed lips.

“A fan…,” you began quietly, “at the meeting today… she asked me to sign this photo.”

Reaching into your bra, you pulled out the mysterious square photo and watched with a pout as Niki carefully unfolded it from each corner.

“I… I don’t understand…” he stuttered, eyes glazing over the sight of you and him holding hands at the firework show that night.

“I know, it’s my fault that—”

“No…,” he interrupted your words before meeting your guilt-ridden eyes, “I don’t understand why you’re letting this get to you…”

“Excuse me?” You asked with a confused expression, “if something like this gets out, it could ruin both of our careers, y’know?”

“Sure,” he responded nonchalantly with a shrug, “but I couldn’t care less about some jealous sasaeng’s creepy little photo fest… by now, it’s gonna take a lot more than an innocent, harmless photo of us hanging out to make me question our status in this field.”

“You never take anything seriously, Nishimura,” you smiled with a sigh, shaking your head as you watched his fingers tear the photo to pieces.

“Well you’re definitely an exception to that trait of mine,” he smirked, tucking the torn shreds of paper into his back pocket before finding your face in his hands, placing a tender kiss to your left cheek.

“How sweet of you to say,” you whispered softly, grabbing the neckline of his shirt and pulling him closer to your height, “now how about you kiss me properly this time?”

He hummed at your teasing tone, sharp features softening as he tilted his head, sealing the space between you and him with the sweet kiss you’d been waiting for.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” Niki sighed against your lips, his right hand removing the rubber band securing your ponytail so his fingers could roam freely through your curls.

Things were escalating pretty quickly now, both of your breaths sounding more labored with each second as you stumbled backwards onto the desk, his energy leading the kiss as he remained on top of you.

It was almost more than you could handle, his hands roaming at your sides before your eyes barely fluttered open, the sight of his slightly blushed button-nose making you feel like melting on the spot.

Thats when you realized his pink hue was a result of two reasons: (1) The way your hands shyly clung to his shoulders right now, and (2) the shadow of footsteps peeking behind your dressing room door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello? Miss ____, its Kim... Are you decent?”

“Erm, one second!” You responded in an obvious frantic.

Niki helped you get up from the vanity table, kneeling down quickly to hide himself under the it as the stern lady made her way into the room anyway.

“Sorry to intrude,” she began abruptly, not even taking note of your currently disheveled hair and flushed expression, “but I’ve unfortunately been appointed as the bearer of bad news for today…”

“Oh... uhm, w- what is it, is everyone alright?” You asked with a concerned tone, trying to take your mind off the fact that a Niki stained with the glimmer of your peach flavored lipgloss all over his mouth was literally under your desk right now, a mere two feet away from Miss Kim’s leather boots.

“For the most part, yes… but it concerns one of your band mates… Serenity, specifically… Since you are the leader of your group, I found it humble to have at least this much respect to tell you first in private.”

You let out a breath, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them back up, restoring your usually confident aura and making eye contact with the woman.

“Thank you, Miss Kim… I’m listening…”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The sounds of shoes rhythmically scuffing, mics going in and out of focus, and layered fits of heavy breathing filled your ears for the next two hours.

Design tech, stage directors, and performers alike were giving it their all to perfect things before the big show coming up.

You paced around the shiny stage, a sweat rag secured lazily around your neck as you and the Enhypen members just got through with rehearsing the main choreo at the performing arena for the first time.

Everyone except Jay and Jade that is, who were still busy with working on their guitar duet for the intro show backstage with the music writers.

“I have no idea how you can still see after being in front of these bright stage lights all the time,” you huffed out tiredly, glancing at Sunoo who only shrugged while taking a few gulps from his grey water bottle.

“I’m not too sure either, but for the lot of us, it’s just something you have to get used to,” he tried warmly before letting himself fall on the ground, limbs spread out like an exhausted snowman as sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Here, lemme show you a little trick I like to use,” Niki offered with a smile while approaching you from behind, his larger frame casting a shadow before you.

“Look down there,” he started, guiding your waist with one hand as he pointed ahead of you with the other, “do you see the tech crew down there?”

You looked to where his finger was pointing, eyes being met with the sight of workers who sat in reclining chairs while others drank some coffee, a few sporadic employees carrying clipboards with stacks of paper, giving out orders to their fellow floor members.

“Yeah, I see them,” you answered, making Niki laugh slightly for reasons you didn’t fully understand.

“That means you’re too close then,” he replied, still holding your waist as he guided you to take a few steps back, which ended up being more steps for you given the leg length differences.

“There’s a rule of thumb that if you can see the audience, they can’t see you… are the lights still bothering you now?”

“Not as much, actually,” you said, turning to face him as he still held you close, everything in your body fighting not to kiss him in this moment given the way he looked back at you, “thanks again…”

“Anytime,” he smirked smuggly, “but uhhh, I think people might be looking at us now—”

“Oh,” you giggled shyly, backing a few inches away from him.

“Ahem,” a nagging voice cleared from beside you two, breaking the wholesome presence of the moment.

“Do you guys think you’re invisible or something?” Serenity asked, crossing her arms while staring the both of you up.

“Uhm…. No?” Niki answered for you, furrowing his eyes at the blue-eyed diva.

“Then why’re you just standing there? You’re blocking my light…”

You let out a scoff at her words, feeling baffled at the thought of how insecure girls like her could have such egotistical tendencies.

“Sorry, Serenity…,” you said half-heartedly, “didn’t mean to disturb your… solo mid-break practice session...”

“Really appreciate it, leader lady,” she replied sarcastically, very intentionally bumping into your shoulder as she walked past you before stopping in her tracks, a loose copy of the stage schedule getting caught under her baby pink sneakers.

She leaned down to pick it up, examining the text before her eyes stumbled over a line of bolded words. All of this was for reasons she didn’t understand, but either way, would soon resent.

“Ugh?!!” She exclaimed with a confused scoff, “HYBE is kicking me from the show??”

Your eyes widened at her words, the furious, confused, and torn look on her face doing nothing but make Niki smirk to himself, “Serenity, I can explain—”

“And you knew about this, didn’t you?” She accused with balled fists, looking between your nervous face and Niki’s shamelessly proud one.

“I just found out today, okay? But Miss Kim specifically instructed me not to say anything about until she revealed it to you herself after practice,” you clarified with a shaky voice.

“Please,” she said with a scoff, “And what’s with the face, Nishimura Nimrod? Huh!? Your little girlfriend told you before she told me, her own band mat—”

“I didnt tell him anything!” You retorted with a slightly raised voice, cracking with nerves you couldn't keep buried anymore.

You never liked being in the hot seat unless you were sitting there with Niki, thanks to his ability to always maintain his cool under pressure...

However, for some reason, even with him next to you right now, you still felt like hurling yourself to the ground.

“You had to have told me him something, so just stop with your insistent lies, ____,” Serenity spat, poking a finger in the center of your chest. Hard.

“You couldn’t wait to get rid of me, its been all over your rotten little face ever since we got here… You’re so jealous of me and it’s honestly depressing at this point…”

Oh Serenity, you thought in your mind, if only you knew this was all brought on by yourself…

You’d had enough of her ignorant speech, holding a fierce eye contact with her while trying to conceal the tears forming behind your eyes.

The sadness growing in your heart…

“None of this was my decision, Ren, so if you have a bone to pick with someone, try taking it up with Miss Kim herself,” you said firmly, walking back a few steps in case she tried touching you again, “I'm sure she'd be more than happy to inform you on her reasons for exiling you from the main activities…”

“What’s going on you guys?” Haerin asked timidly in the midst of the chaos, having just come back from washing up in the restroom.

Serenity practically burned holes in your face with her venomous glare before turning sharply on her heel, footsteps loud and startling as she marched off the stage, murmuring a string of curses under her breath.

“Soooo,” Sunghoon started with a curious accent, “I’m usually not the best at comprehending things, but I’m assuming that whatever just happened was a lot more serious than the usual Riot Grrlz drama, correct?”

“Yeah, what's the big deal ____?,” Jade asked alongside Jake, who gave your shoulder a comforting shake.

You fought with everything in your body to not to let any tears fall...

Because in this moment, it just felt right to cry, but at the same time, was it really worth appearing weak in front of everyone?

Everyone who counted on you to remain strong?

You exhaled with a deep breath, wiping the pricks of moisture from your eyes before speaking, “Serenity won’t be performing with us for the special stage anymore… only the ending song.”

A cacophony of gasps filled the room at your words, Jungwon having picked up the loose schedule copy to analyze it for himself, the bolded words reading:

>> SERENITY TAYLOR Authorized to be PULLED from Furthering Her Performance Activities in Sight of Behavioral Decency Violations Under HYBE's Collaboration and Code of Conduct Standards

“Will she be allowed to attend the award show at least,” Heeseung inquired, not out of empathy, but curiosity as all of this was unfolding pretty fast.

“Perhaps, but for now, we can rest on the thought that we’ll have one less problem while preparing from here on out,” you answered, feeling a large hand take your hand in theirs before giving it a gentle squeeze.

Niki.

“Either way, the show must go on you guys,” he said with a deep voice, the faintest smile being on his face as he looked back at you, dark eyes sparkling with sincerity.

The stage lights flickered from ahead and above you, a key indicator that the radio would be picking up again soon, playing the instrumental to your practice track.

“Mic check everyone and it’s back to rehearsals in five,” yelled out a staff member from below the stage, the ten of you now lining up in formation while adjusting your headsets around your ears.

There was only one thought that remained in your head as the choreographer hopped up center stage to explain how the performance would accommodate for Serenity's sudden absence:

The show must go on.

🎙️For my baby, @microwvdstrawb3rri3s 💕 This is episode 3 for ya ~ Thanks for being so patient with me :3

⛦ TAGS: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikimeows @kimjiho1 @nikipedia07 @nishimuradaniel @ashgonedash @laurradoesloveu @caithefly @samhomo @rikikiynikilcykiki @3ngene--frvr @illymontyshit @filmofhybe @whoslug @nikiiitties

🎙️ Feel free to check out more fun reads on the pinned post at my home page ~

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musingsofahufflepuff · 1 year ago

Text

Just a Glimpse of Us

ex!Mattheo Riddle x gn!reader, Theodore Nott x gn!reader; angst

summary: after a particularly rough break up with mattheo, theodore is there to pick up the pieces. he’s the perfect boyfriend in theory, so why do you wish it was your ex instead?

a/n: while the reader is currently dating theo, this isn’t really about him (sorry bby ily). our focus today is matt. he’s a bit of a dick for the majority and says a couple of insensitive things. the happy ending won, so here it is, happy valentine’s day ♡

Only 2 weeks after your relationship ending fight with Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott asked you out. You said yes.

It had taken you a week longer than it had for Mattheo.

You weren’t entirely sure why you had said yes. The pessimist in you said it was only because you were hurt. The optimist in you meekly thought different.

Theodore was attractive and surprisingly gentle with you. In the days following the break up, he frequently sought you out in the nooks of the castle you started to escape to. The times when you couldn’t keep yourself together, he held you as you broke down in tears and didn’t let go until the pain subsided. His chest was warm and sturdy and safe. The scent of smoke lingered on him hauntingly similar to the way it hung to Mattheo, permeating his clothes and your soul.

He was there by your side when you stumbled on a Ravenclaw girl practically chewing Mattheo’s face off out in the hall in front of god and everyone, 3 days post breakup. Part of you knew he wanted you to see.

A piece of you died that day.

The following weekend party ended with you in Theodore’s bed. Maybe you wanted Matt to walk in his dorm and see you with one of his best friends. Maybe you wanted him to feel the same festering wound you had been living with since he had stormed out of your life.

He never did come back that night.

A week after Mattheo broke your heart a second time, Theodore found you sitting in the astronomy tower, knees to your chest, staring at the view of the valley. He sat next to you, arm easing its way across your shoulders as you leaned into him. He had seemed nervous, so unlike his usual stoic and relaxed demeanor.

“Would you want to maybe go to Hogsmeade with me tesorino?”

The pessimist in you was right.

That was a month ago. A month of dating Theodore Nott. You were less sad at least. Or maybe you were just more numb.

Despite sitting at the Slytherin table with Theodore and your friends, you weren’t really present. You were vaguely aware of his hand resting on your side and the unintelligible chattering filling in the background noise of aimless thoughts. Your eyes were facing the rest of the Great Hall, but you were looking through it. You used to sit here with all the same people but Mattheo always used to be here too. You hadn’t seen him during meals or class lately. He would sling his arm around your waist during meals like this. Theodore’s touch burns.

Before your mind can drift off too far as to what he could possibly be up to recently, the doors to the great hall open with a thud.

It takes a few blinks to get your eyes to focus back and when they do, you’re greeted to a bored looking Mattheo, arm loosely resting on—what appears to be a Hufflepuff—girl’s shoulder.

Theodore’s grip on you tightens and a kiss is pressed to your temple. Matt’s eyes rake over to where you’re sat and you can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. As quickly as he looked your way, he directs his attention elsewhere.

“You okay tesorino? You got tense,” Theodore speaks softly above your ear.

With an exhale you smile up at him, “I’m okay Teddy.” He’s looking at you like you placed the moon in the sky for his enjoyment and it reminds you of brown eyes that had once looked at you the same way.

Pushing the thought from your mind, you press a firm kiss on his lips- searching for butterflies or fireworks or something when he returns the motion.

You find none.

“Nott? Really sweetheart? You can do better than that.”

Mattheo’s voice stabs through you, making you involuntarily jerk to a halt. It had been so long since you’d heard his voice. You try to regain your breath before turning to face him. He’s standing in the middle of the hall, cocky smile on his face. You had forgotten how arrogant he could be, used to his sweet smiles and soft eyes reserved only for you. You desperately longed for it. That Matt was long gone, just a whisper you were still hopelessly trying to grasp onto.

He raises an eyebrow when you make no attempt to respond, seemingly expecting a snarky remark. He takes a couple strides toward you. He baits you again, “I guess I can see why you hang around him, he follows you around like a pathetic dog.” You bite.

“At least I’m not a manwhore who jumps in the first skirt offered to him,” the calm in your tone surprises you, your entire soul feels like it could shatter any moment. “What do you want Riddle?”

Something flashes across Matt’s face for the briefest of moments. So subtle only you would have noticed it.

Before he can respond Theodore is by your side, “why don’t you say that shit to my face next time.”

“And here’s the guard dog now. Have to say, didn’t expect my best mate to lap up my sloppy seconds.”

Tears sting in your eyes at his unexpected cruelty. Then the sound of a fist cracking bone is making you jump. You cover your mouth with your hands as blood starts pouring out of Mattheo’s nose. A crowd has started to form around the three of you and you’re grabbing Theodore’s arm that’s getting ready to take another swing.

Matt’s face is hard to read. He doesn’t immediately react to his apparently broken nose nor the blood staining his uniform. Instead his eyes are locked on you.

You force your voice to work, “c’mon Teddy, it’s not worth it.”

He snaps his head towards you in bewilderment. “Tesorino you heard what he just said about you, right?” Your heart aches at his concern only for you, your gaze shifting to meet Mattheo. The same aching heart reminds you he would have done the same for you once upon a time.

Those pretty brown eyes convince you that you don’t want to see his face anymore beaten than it already was.

“Please Teddy, let’s just go.” You look up at Theodore’s face and tug on his arm.

He relaxes his stance and gives you a nod, letting you lead him away. You do your best to not look back at Mattheo.

However you can’t help the quick glance over your shoulder; seeing Matt looking at you, ironically, like a kicked puppy.

You cry yourself to sleep that night, locked in Theodore’s suffocating embrace.

Monday night finds you back in the astronomy tower, cigarette in your fingers. You had swiped it from Theodore’s stash before classes this morning. It wasn’t the same brand Matt used. Knowing Nott, it was probably higher quality.

You turn the stick in your hand, blinking back tears. Thoughts of your time up here with Matt swirl around your head, making it hard to breathe.

There at the top of the tower surrounded by the cool night, you break.

It happens all at once. No build up, just a shatter. Sobs rack through your body and an animalistic cry of pure pain and despair forces its way out of you.

Mattheo pushes himself off the leather couch he sat on in the common room. Enzo looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and flashes it at the boy, “need a smoke, wanna come with?”

He gets a small head shake no in response before he turns to leave the dungeons.

The walk up to the astronomy tower is familiar and would be comforting in different circumstances. As he starts climbing up the stairs he hears broken sobs echo through the tower. He hesitates thinking it might be best to leave the person alone, but his concern wins out and he treks onward. To say he’s shocked when he sees it’s you is an understatement. Heart rate picking up at the thought of you being hurt, he makes his way over.

At the sound of his footsteps, in between sobs you choke out, “please leave Theo, I want to be alone.”

“I’m not Theo, sorry to disappoint,” the words are slightly joking but his tone is gentle.

You lift your head up to look at him, eyes red and tear tracks staining your cheeks. His heart aches. He settles himself down next to you, giving you space.

You sit together in silence for a few moments, his mere presence wrapping itself around you like a childhood blanket, tattered and long lost. You feel some semblance of peace for the first time in months.

“I’m sorry,” he ducks his head down, shame overtaking him. “You didn’t deserve the way I treated you.”

He tilts his head to look at you, eyebrows knitting together. He almost looks like he could cry. “You’re not my sloppy seconds and Theo isn’t a dog, I just-“ he goes back to avoiding your eyes and blinks a couple times, a tear rolling down his cheek. You reach out and gently wipe it away with your thumb. It has the unintended consequence of making more tears start to fall.

“I was angry and hurt and I guess the only way I know how to express that is by hurting everyone around me.” Your soul shouts at you to reach out for him, but you hold back.

“I think about you all the time,” he’s curled in on himself in the way you’ve only ever seen him do when he talks about his home life. “I miss you so much.”

His eyes squeeze shut in an attempt to stop crying, fingers digging into his biceps. You know him too well, can read his actions like you were reading his mind.

You pull him into your arms.

It’s easy to tell you made the right decision when he instantly relaxes in your embrace, instinctively pushing his head against your chest like he had done so many times before. His voice comes out quieter when he says, “I don’t expect you to forgive me, lord knows I wouldn’t.”

A small smile works its way onto your face as you speak to him for the first time since the fight in the hallway, “you’ve always been the type to hold a grudge. And I know you’d never admit it, but it’s because you care.”

“I’m sorry for kissing that girl, I don’t even know her name. I thought it would fill the hole in me, but it didn’t. Then I saw you with Theo at the party and—“ his voice cracks. You tighten your grip, a hand coming up to run through his curls.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, “I told Theo that I couldn’t keep seeing him today. I felt like I was using him, cause he’s not you.”

Matt pulls himself out of your embrace to cup your face in his hands, dark eyes swimming with unshed tears and that gentle look he used to give you. The one where you could see the longing, the raw need for your touch and love and approval and very essence of your being. It was vulnerable and gave away just how deeply sorry he was for hurting you.

You were drawn to him as you had always been, a planet orbiting a sun that gave off such warmth and fiery passion but could also burn magnitudes of pain that was near incomprehensible.

“I can’t fix the damage I’ve done, but I want to spend my life making it up to you. And I’ll do everything in my power to make amends with Theo. Please, let me be part of your life again.”

“Matty, I want to, but I don’t want to feel like that again. It was hell,” your voice catches on the last part, a stray tear escaping. Gentle lips are pressed on your cheek where the tear was.

“I will never make you feel that way again. And I give you full permission to use an unforgivable if I don’t keep my promise. Fuck, I’ll take an unbreakable vow if that’s what you want, love.”

You can’t hold back anymore, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that rivals the most beautiful sunsets, warmth rushing over you. This is what home feels like.

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