#she gave it up because HE wanted a family

[amfstargirl]

Yandere batfam x neglected reader

Standing in the yard, dressed like a kid, the house is white and the lawn is dead ⋆·˚ ༘ *

You stood firm on the ground, eyes stern and unwavering. In front of you was a place all too familiar—the "shelter" where you grew up, the house that had been your home for five years of your childhood. As you stood there, memories flooded your mind, both the happy ones and the melancholy ones. Your eyes roamed around the place, taking in every detail before you finally decided to enter, lest anyone mistake you for some kind of lunatic loitering outside someone's house.

As your feet mindlessly carried you into the room, a heavy, shaky sigh escaped your quivering lips. It hadn't even been five seconds since you entered, yet you already felt the urge to cry. Oh well, that's what memories do to you. You gently caressed the dirty white wall adorned with your old, fading doodles. Most of them were pink—your favorite color then and even now as an adult. You smiled sadly as the memories of your time in the house flooded back, making you nostalgic. You scoffed sarcastically at the irony that you missed this place more than the manor where you'd spent a longer time.

Perhaps it was because the old you—the innocent, sweet, and pure one—was still within these thin walls that had sheltered them through all the bad times. You could feel their giggles and laughter lingering in the air. Tears streamed down your face as you stared at every sticker, doodle, and writing spread across the walls. Somehow, you cried out of joy, relishing the fact that the child you left behind in this house was still here in some way. Still innocent, still unaware of the harm the world could do.

In the manor, all the love you ever knew came from the man who introduced himself as the family butler but whom you soon came to know as your father. He was the love you craved and begged for at Bruce's feet. He fed you, took care of you, and taught you the things you needed to know. He attended family days, PTA meetings, and other events that your biological father should have been at. Under Alfred's shelter, you did everything you could to try to level with your siblings' talents—learning acrobatics, martial arts, drawing, baking, and more.

Yet it was Alfred who, in the dead of night, under the whispers of the cold wind whipping past your teary face, assured you that you would never need any of those skills to truly earn your family's love. All you needed was to be yourself. You allowed yourself to believe his words and lived them as your truth for a short time, but soon gave up on the idea, accepting that they wouldn't truly see you.

Now, dwelling on your lingering past and memories outside the manor, you remembered those you knew before coming to live with them. You reminisced on the thought of your mother. You remembered her.

You remembered how poverty ate your mother away and that she couldn't provide necessary needs for you but you, sweet, beautiful, angel you never complained.

You remembered how much you loved those barbie shows and movies but couldn't afford the dvds and even a proper functioning television so you sometimes watched it from your window across your neighbors, and while watching you saw a glimpse of their life. Their happy, perfect family life. How they cuddled their daughter and watched those silly barbie movies together. Your eyes softened as you thought "I wanted that" the little you hoped that maybe one day momma will get better and finally love me. Your tears poured from your eyes at the thought.

You remembered while you were doing your homework alone, you heard a whimper outside your window near the alley. As you peeked your tiny head outside, your braids flowing with the cold, harsh wind, your eyes searching for the source of noise. As you let your gaze travel through every corner of the alley, you saw a dirty, poor puppy whimpering, alone, calling out for its mother, its father, anyone. You ran hastily outside and collected its tiny and fragile form gently in your arms. "I'm here, I'm okay, you're safe," you whispered softly to the creature. And from. That very day you fed it and kept it sheltered secretly from your mother. You named her Amara. It suited her. You didn't have much play mates so you sometimes play with her by the yard where you and her would either run together or lay down. You never really got to say goodbye to her. From "that" moment on, you never got to go back to your house. You wondered how she was. Was she well fed? Did she think you abandoned her? Does she miss you? The guilt of living her ate you up the longer you dwelt on the past. You shook your head and sighed, trying to forget about all of it. You mourned every version of you. And this was your most treasured one. Thinking back on all the memories you had of the old you, of her. You thanked them for being so forgiving, for being so brave, for being so content with what she had, and for never trading anything for it.

They Were such a kind soul. And you're glad that they gets to stay where they were the happiest despite the nightmare they endured those days. You will always look up to them. They were and will always be a part of you. You took one last look at the house, the drawings, the dirty corners of the room, and released a breath as you closed your eyes. This was it. You'll finally get to say goodbye-

Whimper

You froze as you heard a familiar whimper. You turned around and slowly walked towards the opened door, and you saw her. Amara, your friend. You can't help but let the tears fall as her once brown fluffy appearance is now old and grey. You wondered how even in the light of old age she somehow still seems so youthful. She was still your baby. With a shaky voice, you tested the name. "Amara...?" she wags her tail in delight as a response to the familiar name she's been waiting to be called for so many years. You kneeled down and gently caressed her. "Oh, baby. You've been waiting for me, haven't you?" she whimpered as if answering you. You noticed her trying to catch her breath and her body growing weaker. You glance at her tail and see its wagging has become more frail and slow. You glance at your eyes, and you know. You smiled at her and whispered, "It's okay, baby. You can rest now." Her face weakly lit up, and she slowly closed her eyes, calm and loved, finally in your embrace.

After some time, you tenderly wrapped her body in a blanket. You carried her to the yard where you both used to play together as kids, a place where you ran freely without a care in the world. Borrowing a shovel from a tenant in the apartment, you buried her there, in the spot where you both were the happiest.

You whispered silent prayers for your companion and left with the memories. This was it. You've made your peace with the old you. Almost. There was one more thing you have to do.

You used believed that your mother could have been so much more. She was a beautiful woman. Smart, even if other would beg to disagree. But, you knew that she knew how to play her cards right to get what she desired for. She would have been so powerful if she used her sharp mind to something much more.. Productive. Yet she chose to sleep with men, abandon her daughter, and let herself be eaten by poverty and lust. Well, you didn't really mind if she abandoned you. You've always felt like you were the burden, the barrier to her way of succeeding and the chain locked onto her feet, keeping her from truly running away to what she has become. You've seen it in her eyes, the thought of running away and living a new life, but when she looks at you.. She saw a mistake she could never be freed of. A mistake. If only you weren't born, she would have been so happy.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink. "Ma'am?" the nurse asked. Suddenly, you were back to reality. You blinked again, processing her words. You glanced at her expectant expression and blurted out, "Y-yes, yes, uhm. Yeah. I'm ready." She smiled and said, "Great. Let's go this way, ma'am." You followed her hurriedly, not wanting to test her patience. As you walked, dissociating and thinking of all the possible outcomes, the nurse suddenly stopped in front of a room and said, "We're here. You can enter now." You nodded and thanked her silently.

Facing the door, you chanted in your mind, "You can do this," with a mix of determination and uncertainty. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and opened the door. There she was—your mother, in all her glory. Bare-faced and vulnerable in her comfy hospital gown. You almost choked on your saliva, seeing her this... bare. You had always seen her so filtered, her face adorned with colors, her clothes tight and bright. Awkwardly, you shifted in your place and slowly sat beside her bed as her gaze followed your every move. You cleared your throat, preparing to speak, but she beat you to it.

“I know you.” you widen your eyes at her as she continues “you're my child.” you weren't shocked at the fact that she acknowledged you but the fact that she called you Her child, and the softness in her eyes. You were starting to think that maybe this isn't your mother, because she never looked at you like that. Never in years of living together has she even glance at you.

She chuckled at the sight of your confused and shocked state, bringing you out of your thoughts. "What? Shocked? Of course, I still remember you, Y/n," she weakly said, her voice small and quite different from the harsh tone she used to yell at you with. You inhaled sharply, trying to stop your tears from falling. What the heck? Were you about to cry again?

"I thought with how much resentment you harbor for me, you would have forgotten about me by now," you smiled sadly at her, watching her face drop slightly but still smiling weakly.

"Oh, Y/n," you almost crumbled right then and there. Oh, how much you had longed to be called so sweetly by your mother's voice. "I never hated you... that much," she said bitterly, and you stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue. "I just wasn't born to be a mother, no—at least not in this life. I'm a mess and I always will be. And I'm sorry I couldn't change for you because nothing can and nothing will change me anymore."

Your lips frowned at her words. "I always thought that maybe you could have been better without me," you said. You miss her, and you will always miss her. She was your whole world, but now seeing her and talking to her made you realize her world was clearly much different from yours. Her world was something one could not escape. You knew you couldn't live like that, and it seems that she cannot live any other way. They said that a mother and children exist as wretched mirrors of each other. You were all she could have been and she was all you might have been.

She closed the distance between you and embraced you for the first time. "You never were. It was me. I was the problem. You were just a child. In another life, I would've been able to care for you." You didn't question her on why she couldn't do it in this life because you knew. You knew she didn't have the capability to be a good mother and a morally good person now, and that was okay. You couldn't live with The fact that she will never truly care for you and will always hold secret animosity towards you if you force her to be a mother to you. You closed your eyes for a minute and silently took in the feeling of a mother's embrace for the first and last time.

"This is the last time you're ever gonna see me again," you said. Your mother chuckled bitterly and replied, "I know. Good for you, kid. Leave everything behind and start anew. You deserve it."

You soon moved out of her arms and held her hands tightly, looking into her eyes. With a deep exhale, you walked out of the hospital. This was it—you were finally free from your past. You had made your peace with it, and now it was time for you to move forward. You knew that if you didn't confront the horrors of your past, they would haunt you for the rest of your life. You had made a good choice.

As you stepped outside, the cool breeze greeted you, and you felt a sense of liberation wash over you. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. It was as if the universe itself was acknowledging your newfound freedom. You took a moment to breathe in the fresh air, savoring the feeling of lightness that now enveloped you. Walking down the street, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. The city seemed different somehow—brighter, more alive. You noticed the little things that you had overlooked before: the vibrant colors of the flowers in the park, the laughter of children playing, the distant hum of traffic. It was as if you were seeing the world with fresh eyes, unburdened by the weight of your past.

For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace. The past no longer held you captive. You were free to live your life, to pursue your passions, and to surround yourself with people who truly cared for you. It was the beginning of a new chapter. You get home to your apartment and sit at your couch grabbing some blankets and making hot cocoa. You thought to yourself that this is what you exactly needed. Watching barbie movies in your new cozy apartment without any burden past onto your shoulders, the little you would have been so proud, making you smile at the thought. This was it. Nothing was going to stop you now.

That's what you thought.

It has been 2 weeks since you've moved in your apartment and you're getting ready for your ballet rehearsal. You were especially excited about this as you were going to perform swan lake when you got to enact one of the most important and famous characters, how cool was that? As you were about to grab your pink bowed pointe shoes a sudden “ping!” notification was heard from your phone. You turned your head and went to grab it expecting a message from one of your close friends or even your ballet mates but all you were met with was a message from a person you least wanted a one from.

Dick. Your supposed older brother is asking you to hang out with him. At this very moment. You dropped your phone and stared at nothing while breathing heavily. You feel your heartbeat rapidly breathing, the knot in your stomach growing more tighter and tighter each minute you let the thought sink into your brain. You almost tripped at your foot as a result of your vision disfigured, as if you were looking through a fish-eye lens. This wasn't right, this wasn't supposed to happen. When-how?-why?! Why was this happening now? You were only starting to feel like everything in your life was finally starting to go your way. Why did this have to happen? It was as if the universe was mocking you. You bit your lips until it bled but you couldn't care less. You were numb. You hadn't even realized that you were nowate for today's rehearsals. With trembling hands you reached for your phone and shakily pressed the button “block” as you silently prayed that he-they would never come in contact with you ever again.

Of Course that wouldn't happen though. The universe was never really on your side.

Dick? What's happening here?

A sudden deep voice spoke, bringing Dick out of his deep trance. He turned around and saw his father standing outside the door, looking suspiciously at him. He stared at his father and saw the look on his face—full of confusion and unfamiliarity, not towards him but the room he was in. "I-it's Y/n," he stuttered, the name tasting so sweet on his tongue. He wanted to roll around in the scent of you. Was that weird? No—he just missed you, that's all.

"What about them?" Bruce's voice carried a nonchalance that almost made Dick angry. How could he be so indifferent about his precious sibling? With a hard voice, Dick replied, "They're gone." Bruce's eyes widened slightly at the response. What did he mean you were gone? You were just here when... Wait, when? He worriedly glanced at Dick, and as if understanding, Dick answered, "I know."

Bruce inhaled sharply and stepped inside the room, your lingering scent greeting him. Your trophies adorned the walls. This was your room? No, it couldn't be. This was too little. This was just... not it. The difference between his other childrens bedrooms and yours was so noticeable. You didn't have any fancy chandelier decorating yours. You didn't have your own bathroom.

Bruce's eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail. The neatly arranged trophies, the faded posters on the walls, and the small bed that seemed too empty now. He walked over to the desk and picked up a framed photo of you, when was this? You look so.. Grown? How old were you? Were you old enough to live alone? How come he didn't know? Did you have a job-were you even allowed to have one? he clenches his fist as he stares at the sight of your image and sees your bright smile. His heart ached at the sight. How had he missed this? How had he not noticed the signs?

Dick watched his father, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He wanted to scream, to demand why Bruce hadn't paid more attention, why he hadn't been there for you. But he knew he wasn't any better than his adoptive father was. Besides, it wouldn't change anything. The damage was done.

Bruce set the photo back down and turned to Dick, his expression a mix of regret and determination. He saw the tiny diary and other papers scattered across the floor and picked them up, reading them one by one as he slowly spiraled into regret and guilt. Dick watched as he knew this was going to make him understand. Today made it all clear to him. Why there was a nagging feeling inside of him saying that there was something missing in the manor. It was why the sweet muffled music of the orchestra haunted the manor, the same kind of music haunting their bedroom. Like it was a reminder, a warning. That something special was lost. The soothing sound of humming, light footsteps around the manor now gone. The pink bows tied around the handles of the stairs, the love that the plants receive now nowhere to be found. It was because you took that love with you.

"We need to find them," Bruce spoke, his voice steady but filled with urgency. His knees bounce as his Jaws tighten anxiously.

Dick nodded, his resolve matching his father's. "We'll find them," he replied, his voice firm. "And we'll make things right."

As they left the room, Bruce carrying the framed image of you tightly, almost as if he was paranoid that something would take it from him, and dick gently running his thumb through the texture of your pink, bowed, bright diary, the weight of their mission settled on their shoulders. They knew it wouldn't be easy, but they were determined to bring you back. The silence of the manor was a stark reminder of what they had lost, and they were ready to do whatever it took to make amends.

Bruce was anxious. He didn't have a plan. Ironic, because Batman always had a plan. It was an unspoken rule—Batman was always prepared. But now, he found himself at a loss, his mind racing with uncertainty. Perhaps it was because he knew every single person in Gotham. As the guardian of Lady Gotham, he prided himself on understanding the intricate web of connections and motives that defined the city's inhabitants. He calculated every person's actions, paid attention to every detail, and watched from the heart of Gotham.

He paid extensive attention to everyone... except you.

It wasn't intentional. He had always been consumed by the weight of his responsibilities, the never-ending battle against crime, and the need to protect the city. But now, standing in your room, surrounded by the remnants of your presence, he realized his failure. The irony of it all struck him—Batman, the meticulous planner, had overlooked the most important person in his life.

Now he was desperate, he may not have a plan but he was desperate. He'll do anything to get you back. Any possible way to get back all the times he failed you, when he failed to be a father to you. He swore to protect you and never let you out of his sight ever again.

Dick wasn't any better. As he walked, his thoughts played tricks on him, but in a way he almost relished. His mind insisted that you must be so scared without him, without your older brother to protect you. He didn't even consider the possibility that you could be an independent, fully functioning individual on your own, or the fact that you had grown and most likely abandoned the thought of "bonding" with him. In this moment, his mind was consumed by the image of you and the curiosity of what more you had within yourself that he had neglected. His anxiousness grew, causing him to bite his nails and run his hands through his hair in frustration. His breathing became ragged, and his heart pounded in his chest. It was as if he had turned feral, his bloodshot blue eyes itching to be blessed with a vision of your face.

The more he thought about it, the more his mind played tricks on him. He imagined you scared and alone, wondering why your older brother wasn't there to protect you. He couldn't bear the thought of you suffering because of his neglect. His thoughts raced, each one more frantic than the last. What if you were hurt? What if you were in danger? What if you had given up on ever reconnecting with him?

The guilt gnawed at him, making it hard to focus on anything else. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed you, that he had missed so many opportunities to be there for you. His heart ached at the thought of all the moments you had spent alone, craving the attention and love that he hadn't given.

As he continued to walk, his thoughts became more erratic. He imagined you thriving without him, having found your own path and your own sense of independence. The possibility that you no longer needed him stung, but it also filled him with a strange sense of pride. You had grown, despite everything, and that was something to be admired.

Still, his mind couldn't rest. He needed to see you, to know that you were okay. The uncertainty was driving him to the brink of madness. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, determined to find you and make amends.

he wouldn't rest until he saw you again.

Both Bruce and Dick disregarded everything around them, unaware of the curious look Tim gave them. He followed quietly behind their backs, raising an eyebrow as he wondered why they hadn't noticed his presence yet. Normally, these two were incredibly guarded, so Tim was shocked by their lack of awareness. What could have made them so unfocused?

Bruce—the Batman—and Dick—the first Robin and now Nightwing—were both engrossed in a particular object. They seemed to be completely absorbed, their usual vigilance overshadowed by their intense fixation. Tim watched as Bruce's eyes remained glued to a framed photo on the desk, his expression a mix of regret and determination. Meanwhile, Dick's gaze was fixed on the pink notebook in his hands, his fingers gently tracing the glittery cover.

Tim couldn't help but wonder what was so important about these items that it made two of the most vigilant people he knew drop their guard. The framed photo of you, smiling brightly, seemed to hold Bruce in a trance, while the pink notebook, adorned with bows and glitters, seemed to capture all of Dick's attention. They were so consumed by these objects that they had let down the walls they had built through years of vigilantism.

It had to be something incredibly significant—something better yet, special.

“What are you two doing?” asked Tim, suddenly breaking the silence between the three of them as he watched the father and son duo flinch, obviously flabbergasted at his sudden interruption at their deep trance. He observed as their face turned from shock to going back to their frowning faces making him mirror the same expression. Dick clenches his jaw and exhales sharply preparing himself to speak when he is suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice he would always recognize.

"What is going on here?" a figure with deep forest-green eyes asked, standing tall in the shadows, his cold demeanor unwavering. Dick's eyes met his, and he said his name. "Damian. Wha—"

"You have deliberately abandoned your promise to train with me today. Why?" Damian's voice was sharp, full of accusation. Shoot. That was right. Dick had forgotten to train with his younger brother today. But it didn't matter now; his other sibling needed him, and it was about time they knew about them too. He glanced at Bruce's unfocused state, feral and restless.

"It's about Y/n," Dick said firmly.

Tim stood still for a moment, trying to figure out who "Y/n" was, while Damian immediately sneered at the mention of his "rival." He couldn't pinpoint why your presence angered him so much. Maybe it was because he had to share the title of being the Wayne heir with someone so... normal, someone so far below his level. You both were so different. Perhaps he was jealous of you for being so normal, for not having to worry about tainting your hands with blood and painting others black and blue. What did you even do? He didn't know, but he bet it was something a normal civilian would.

Meanwhile, his peripheral vision caught Tim standing still, deep in thought. Damian saw him processing quickly, his mind running fast as he tried to figure out who you were and why you were so relevant at the moment. Then suddenly—aha! Tim remembered now! You were the kid who had pestered him non-stop about some game.

Tim's eyes widened as he recalled the memory. The realization hit him like a wave. He had been so dismissive back then, but now he understood the significance. Guilt washed over him, mixing with curiosity and concern. What had happened to you? Why were you so important now?

Damian's sneer softened slightly, replaced with a look of contemplation. “What about them?” asked damian. While Tim wondered the same. Suddenly Bruce's cold and deep voice said “they're gone.” Damian raising an eyebrow of his response, and Tim answering “gone? Gone how?” switching his gaze from dick and Bruce's form awaiting for one of them to answer his question as the tension in the room thickens. “I mean that they're gone. All their things not found in their room, no trace of them not in the mansion, and not even a goodbye.” Tim and Damian frowned at the same time. Damian scoffed and thought you were probably just making a big scene so the attention would be on you. Bruce said “we need to find them. Now.” his voice left no choice for them to abide by his command.

Now alone in the CCTV room, Tim let his bored gaze wander over the footage from a long time ago, his palm supporting his head. Suddenly, something caught his attention. He watched as you sat, his fingers tapping the keyboard to increase the volume. You hummed lightly at the footage, a simple gesture but not to him. Your voice was so familiar to him. His eyes dilated as you continued humming, your voice sweet as honey, as light as a mother's touch trying to lull her baby to sleep.

He zoomed the footage closer and closer, almost as if he wanted to go through the screen just to hear your sweet, angelic, melancholic voice. Your voice was like a soft fur blanket to him. He didn't know if he was hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but he swore you were covered by a soft light, hugging your form and kissing your skin gently.

Tim sat in your "presence" for a bit, soaking in your voice. As he listened, memories flooded back. He recalled distant muffled sounds within the thin walls, lulling him to sleep, chasing away the demons that kept him awake at night. He had so desperately wanted to close his eyes and rest, and he remembered thinking maybe it was just a voice in his head, or maybe a real-life angel offering him salvation from suffering and the sweet pleasure of sleep. Now he knew, the angel was called "Y/n."

His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk as he leaned in closer, his breathing steadying as he watched the footage. The realization hit him hard. How had he missed this before? How had he not recognized that comforting voice? The gentle humming, the presence that had brought him solace on sleepless nights—it was all you.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued to watch, his heart aching with a mix of regret and longing. He remembered the nights he had spent tormented by nightmares, the countless times he had struggled to find peace. Your voice had been his lifeline, a beacon of hope in the darkness.

He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. How had he been so blind? How had he not seen the importance of your presence in the manor? Tim's thoughts spiraled as he recalled the moments he had dismissed you, the times he had been too wrapped up in his own world to notice you reaching out. He needed to see you. To hear your voice, to take you back, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness as his forehead kisses the cold, dirty floor, or to maybe steal you back without a word. He didn't know, he just had to see you.

The footage continued to play, your voice a soothing balm to his troubled mind. He sat there, never unwavering, always in awe of your voice and never taking his attention off you. He sat there,Unaware that he had been playing the same footage for hours and hours. His dilated eyes worshipping you as if you were a god.

He felt a deep sense of loss, realizing that you were gone, and he hadn't even had the chance to thank you for all the nights you had unknowingly saved him. Determined, he knew he had to find you. He had to make things right.

After some time, finally. Tim's resolve hardened as he stood up, his eyes never leaving the screen. He would find you, and he would make sure you knew how much you meant to him. With renewed purpose, he left the CCTV room, ready to join Bruce and Dick in their search. Together, they would bring you back and rebuild the bond that had been neglected for far too long.

With much focus on the object of his obsession attention, he failed to notice a tall figure in the shadows, watchin. Thinking after all these years they have finally come to their senses, realizing the greatest gift of all was right under their noses.

Damian was a dangerous person. To be fair, he was raised to be an assassin and an heir to the throne from the moment he was born. Not even a moment out of the womb did he catch a glimpse of the normal life he so desperately wanted. He trained day and night, month after month, year after year, to become the perfect product of the world's greatest detective and the daughter of the king of assassins. Imagine the inner turmoil within him when he didn't meet the expectations set upon his shoulders. All his life, all he knew was to fight. In any situation, his first instinct was to fight and guard himself for his life.

Sometimes, he wondered how they expected a child to lead thousands of assassins to create a bloodbath. Behind his pride and arrogance was a deep-seated anger towards those in charge of his fate. He was furious that his innocence had been stripped away, clawing its way back to him, but ultimately, they succeeded in giving him a future burdened with the weight of guilt for painting the young and innocent red.

Damian's upbringing left him with a constant battle within himself. The expectations placed upon him were immense, and he often felt like he was suffocating under the pressure. The relentless training, the unyielding discipline, and the need to prove himself consumed his every waking moment. The anger he felt was not just directed at those who shaped his fate but also at himself for not being able to escape it. Many didn't know of it but he found it hard to be Robin. The conflict between leaning to your instincts or “your- now- morals” was hard. To kill and to save was wrong and somehow to save and to forgive was right.

Despite his impressive skills and abilities, there was a part of him that longed for something more—something normal. He envied those who lived ordinary lives, free from the burden of bloodshed and violence. He wondered what it would have been like to have a childhood filled with laughter and innocence rather than combat and survival. As to why he wonders what more could you possibly want? He was so sure that you had so much wonderful time living such a luxurious life in the manor and never having to prove yourself to be worthy of something in being able to get the object of your desire. How could you run away from this life? From your life? You were so unfair, so selfish.

As he continued to grapple with these conflicting emotions, Damian's exterior remained cold and guarded. He rarely allowed anyone to see the vulnerable side of him, the side that yearned for a different life. But deep down, the scars of his past lingered, a constant reminder of the life he was forced into and the innocence that was stolen from him.

He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and released a heavy sigh. What a bother. Making his way to every corner of the manor to "inspect" and see if you had left any trace of yourself there. As he walked down the path, letting his bored state guide him, he glanced at the thick walls and noticed some unfamiliar works of art. His gaze roamed around the room, settling on various paintings he had never noticed before. It was as if the paintings spoke for themselves, screaming out for anyone to notice and appreciate them. The different textures, colors, shapes, and stories behind the art captivated him.

Damian liked to think that he noticed everything and had the ability to be highly aware of his surroundings, whether he was familiar with them or not. But at this moment, he paused, questioning himself. If he was truly aware, how had he managed to overlook these breathtaking canvases filled with bright colors that made him... feel things? He took a step forward and saw a tiny signature on the left side of one of the canvases. He brought his hand up to softly caress the painting, gently and carefully, as if he were afraid that a mere touch could destroy it.

Engrossed in admiring the paintings, he failed to notice the tall figure beside him. It was only when the man spoke, "Master Damian," addressing him, that he flinched slightly.

"Ah, Alfred. My apologies, I was a bit distracted by the art adorning the walls, which seems to be... unfamiliar to me. Would you mind telling me where my father keeps buying these paintings? I must say I'm quite... impressed."

Alfred frowned and smiled sadly at the youngest Wayne. "Well, Master Damian, these paintings are actually not your father's doing. Rather, they are Master Y/n's work of art."

Damian's eyes widened in surprise. He turned back to the paintings and said "Y/n did these?" he asked, almost incredulous. The realization that you had created such beautiful and meaningful art struck him deeply. He didn't even know that you could draw much less create such.. Beautiful art. While he was thinking about it he realize that he had complimented you, you!

"Indeed, Master Damian," Alfred confirmed. "Y/n spent countless hours creating these pieces. Each one holds a story, a piece of their heart."

Damian felt a pang of emotion through his chest, he couldn't pinpoint what it was but it was somehow nagging him about something, or rather someone. His fingers traced the brushstrokes with a newfound reverence, as if trying to understand the emotions you had captured on canvas.

"I never knew..." Damian whispered, more to himself than to Alfred. The layers of vibrant colors, the delicate details, and the raw emotions conveyed through your art were all a testament to the depth of your soul. He felt a connection to you that he hadn't realized before, a sense of camaraderie and understanding. And he was totally not dissing you just minutes ago.

Alfred placed a comforting hand on Damian's shoulder. "Art has a way of speaking to us, Master Damian. It reveals truths that words often cannot. Y/n's art is a reflection of their experiences, their joys, and their sorrows. It is a part of them that they have shared with the world."

Damian nodded, taking a step back to fully appreciate the entirety of your work. Your art had opened a door to a deeper connection, and he was willing to walk through it. He didn't know why but in a way this was proof that you had always had some kind of connection to him.

As Damian and Alfred stood there, surrounded by the masterpieces you had created, a sense of resolve settled over Damian. He frowns and takes a look around all the work of your art. His style doesn't differ much from yours. the caress of brush ever so slightly seen, and the emotions behind the soul of your paintings, like his. What made you so similar to him? And that, he will not know until he finds you.

He knew that finding you and bringing you back was not just about making amends—it was about recognizing and celebrating the unique and irreplaceable person you were.

Y/n considered themselves a keen observer, attuned to the delicate nuances of the world around them. They noticed the gentle yet sometimes harsh swaying of the wind as it danced with the leaves, creating a symphony of nature's whispers. They noticed the lady sitting on the park bench, quietly absorbing the view of the home she once grew up in, her memories interwoven with the present. They noticed the ducks by the pond, gracefully gliding through the water alongside their mother, a portrait of serene tranquility.

Y/n noticed everything, yet no one noticed them. And it was fine. They had long accepted this reality, enduring the loneliness of being invisible in a world where they saw so much. The weight of being unnoticed had become a familiar companion, a constant presence that shaped their existence. In the silent spaces between moments, Y/n found solace in their observations, finding beauty in the overlooked and meaning in the mundane.

So why were they just noticing you just now? Why? When you have just started to accept and move on. Why must they bring the horrors of the past when your current life is filled with hope arraying a new journey, now destroyed.

Why couldn’t Dick just let you be, drifting away in the silence you’d crafted? Why couldn’t he leave you to fade quietly, just as you had promised yourself you would, a ghost of your former self, untouched and unbothered? Yet there he was, an ever-present weight, his hands—rough, calloused, scarred by years of untold burdens—forcing your face into the past, as if his touch could rewrite history. His fingers dug into your skin, twisted into the soft contours of your face, tearing through the years of numbness, of denial, dragging you back to a place you had sworn you’d never return.

And then, Tim. Oh, Tim. The boy who once didn’t even see you, who barely even remembered your name when it lingered in the air of the manor. Now, he’s relentless, his fingers tapping into your phone with the same quiet insistence that his presence once had in the dark halls of that place you used to call home. You want to scream, to rip the silence apart, to do anything but feel what you’re feeling now—this suffocating pull to return to them, to face them, even when you know you never should have to again.

The ache swells, the lump in your throat is a tangible thing now, a choking presence you can’t swallow down. It’s the same searing pain that’s lingered, festering, hidden beneath layers of what you pretended was healing. How cruel it is, to have spent so much time trying to break free, only to find that some things, some people, are never quite done with you.

The ghost of them lingers, burrows deeper, with every unanswered message. They still haunt you, even from afar. You hate them for it, for still holding the power to break you open, to make you bleed from places you thought had long scarred over. It feels like a thousand wounds opening up again—slow, deliberate, bleeding you dry in a way you don’t know how to stop.

You stared blankly into the emptiness, feeling numb, when suddenly a hand rested on your shoulder. You flinched instinctively and turned to see who it was. Your eyes widened as you recognized your ballet teacher standing behind you. "Miss Kavinsky! I-I... Hi! I’m—" you stammered, but she quickly cut you off with a smile.

"Y/N L/N-Wayne, I know," she said with a warm tone. "It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you."

You winced slightly, the sound barely audible, but Miss Kavinsky didn’t seem to notice. "Come on, let’s meet the other dancers. I’m sure they’re eager to meet you."

The surprise hit you hard, and you stuttered, "M-me?" You couldn’t help but feel like an idiot.

She grinned, a playful mix of amusement and mild disbelief on her face. "Yes, you. You're kind of a celebrity here, Wayne. Not surprised with a talent like yours."

Her words lingered in the air, but you went quiet, caught off guard by the compliment. You couldn’t fully process it, the idea of anyone looking up to you seemed so foreign, so distant. And somewhere in the haze, you barely registered the way she had called you "Wayne.”

As you and the other dancers gathered at the stage, a wave of anxiety washed over you. The weight of thoughts about Tim and Dick pressed heavily on your mind, and the pressure of the moment only made it worse. Just as your mind started to spiral, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Hey! You're Y/N, right? I'm Desiree, but you can just call me Des."

You forced a smile, barely hearing Miss Kavinsky as her voice faded into the background, announcing something about attendance. Your attention was now solely focused on Des, who had just broken the ice. You shook her hand and smiled more genuinely, the tension in your body loosening up a bit.

"Hi, Des. Yeah, you already know who I am. Nice to meet you."

You both exchanged a quiet laugh, and the chatter around you faded as you continued talking. For a moment, you felt like you could breathe again. You asked the usual questions: "How old are you?" "What's your favorite ballet?" The conversation flowed easily, but when your name was suddenly called for attendance, you were snapped back to reality.

"Here!" you called out, your voice getting lost in the sea of dancers.

But then Des said something that made you freeze.

"So, are you excited that both of you are here?" she asked with a playful giggle, her smile sweet and innocent.

You blinked, confused, but smiled through it. "Both of us...?" you repeated, trying to follow along.

Des chuckled softly at your puzzled expression. "You and your sister, silly! It must be so nice to perform together. My brother wouldn't even try to get into ballet, you know?"

Her words, lighthearted as they were, suddenly made your world feel like it was crashing down around you. You felt a cold panic begin to rise. Your fingers instinctively dug into your palms, almost drawing blood. Your smile wavered, barely holding on, while your eyes fluttered, teetering on the edge of tears. Des’s voice became distant, her words fading into a muffled blur as your thoughts spiraled out of control, bloodshot eyes starting to sting with unshed tears. Your heart raced, and the chaos inside you was too much to contain.

In that very moment, her name echoed through the air, sharp and clear. Without thinking, your gaze shifted, and you locked eyes with her. Her wide, unblinking stare pierced through the noise, anchoring you in place. For a fleeting second, you wondered if she had been watching you all along—since the instant your name was called, or perhaps even before. You couldn't be sure.

What you did know, however, was that the weight of her gaze felt like a force, pulling you into a quiet abyss. It made you feel small, fragile—as if you were prey beneath the steady, unyielding gaze of a predator. A shiver ran through you, and suddenly, all you wanted was to escape, to flee from the suffocating intensity of her eyes, which seemed to strip away every layer of protection you had left.

The fates were clearly playing with you now.

Cassandra was an exceptionally gifted individual, much like her siblings, each of whom possessed their own unique abilities. From the moment she first pursued ballet, her family showered her with unwavering love and support. She had access to training that most could only dream of—privileges afforded to her not because of her wealth, but because she was no ordinary person. She was Batgirl, the daughter of Batman by choice, a mantle she wore with pride. So, when an invitation arrived for her to join the prestigious Swan Lake performance alongside other top-tier dancers, it hardly came as a surprise. After all, excellence was something she had always embraced, both on the stage and off.

As she gets ready for her first rehearsal she can't help but notice that some of her siblings are missing. She shook it off and ate her food but also not abandoning the thought of asking about the absence of her siblings and father, to a familiar companion of their family:Alfred. As where Alfred only replies with them being busy about.. Something, yet said to her to fret not and just worry her mind about her ballet play, quickly chasing away her concerns for her family with a smile that made her feel lighthearted. With a chuckle she got up and made her way to the location of where the dancers were told to meet.

Cass had always believed she was the only one in her family who truly appreciated the delicate artistry of ballet. Her passion for the graceful movements, the precision of each step, and the beauty of the performances had always felt like a private world to her, a world she inhabited alone. She couldn’t recall a single moment where anyone in her family shared even the slightest interest in it. So, when she entered the crowded theater that evening, expecting to be surrounded only by fellow ballet enthusiasts, she was taken aback by something unexpected.

Amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, she spotted you. For a fleeting moment, her heart skipped a beat, not from the rush of seeing someone in the crowd, but from an overwhelming sense of familiarity that washed over her. There you were, standing like a ghost from a forgotten past, an unexplainable connection sparking between you both. Cass couldn’t place it, but it was as though she had known you forever, even though your paths had never crossed before.

Her mind wandered, replaying the memories that had been buried deep within her. A distant image flashed across her thoughts: she was standing in a room filled with soft, pastel-colored fabrics, the scent of leather and polish hanging in the air. Two pairs of pointe shoes rested beside one another on the floor—one was familiar, worn and well-loved, the other brand new, the laces still fresh and untangled. The second pair, the one that felt entirely foreign, immediately piqued her curiosity. She was certain it wasn’t hers, yet the connection to it lingered, something so subtle but undeniable.

The realization hit her like a wave. She didn’t know you, not consciously, but somehow she felt bound to you, as if fate had woven your lives together in some strange, invisible thread long before either of you had even been aware of it.

The entire day she watched and observed you. She paid extra attention to every detail of your expressions, body language, and posture. She didn't know why but you seemed to be very clear–in her case, in distress, like you were panicking over something. And she didn't know why she somehow hated seeing you that way. As the minutes passed, she found herself simply just staring at you. Not even for a fleeting moment had she taken her gaze of you. She watched and observed tensely at every person who looks at you, who talks to you, who breathes near you. Almost as if she was guarding you. As they were told to gather she followed silently after the crowd and placed herself purposely in front of the other side from you. She scoffs in amusement as you barely notice her, too focused on your own little world. As minutes continued to pass, suddenly a girl broke you out of her thoughts with her voice making you flinch. Her breath hitched as irritation started to crawl their way through her chest. Why couldn't the girl be more gentle with you? Can't she see that you were clearly stressed? She frowns slightly at the girl, surprising herself by the sudden change of mood. She holds her breath and watches you like a hawk would at its prey. Her vision was filled with your now loosen frame, giggling with the girl who approached you earlier. A new feeling started to claw its way through her chest, now bigger and stronger. The green monster eating her up when suddenly the call of her voice brought her out of her thoughts as she, for a moment took her eyes off of you to answer quietly to her name and as she bring back her gaze to you, quickly to not miss anything she might take the pleasure in seeing, suddenly your eyes are on her too. Her eyes couldn't leave the sight of your gaze who held such horror in them, as if seeing her was too much for you. As she was your living nightmare sitting right in front of you.

The remaining time the dancers practiced, you avoided her gaze and her presence. The more you avoided her, the more she itched to be in your presence alone, to be near you. The whole time at the practice she was, for the first time, distracted. Her thoughts are consumed by you. Her thoughts came up with every question she could ask about her and your current situation. What were you doing here? Why didn't she know? Were you at the manor? No, if you were she would've known.. Right? Okay if you weren't, then why weren't you? Those questions alone made her uneasy and frustrated. As it was time to go home, she watched as you hurriedly got out and quickly went home to wherever your home was. The nagging feeling screamed at her to follow you but decided against it and thought that going home and bringing the news to her family might help more. After all, they were stronger together.

She stormed into the manor, urgency in her every step, and sought out Alfred with a single, breathless demand: "Boys. Where?" Without hesitation, he led her to them. Her gaze fell upon them, intense and unyielding, her pupils trembling with an unspoken storm. She whispered a single name, a breathless, haunting utterance: "Y/N." The boys, in unison, responded, "We know."

A deep breath escaped her, the weight of their actions—venturing after you without so much as a word—forgotten for the moment. She snatched a laptop, her fingers flying over the keys in a frantic dance of their own. The screen flickered to life, revealing a video that stole the breath from the room. There you were, dancing—each movement a testament to grace, each step more captivating than the last.

The world had already fallen under your spell. The internet buzzed with adoration, praising the way your every turn, every leap, every pause held the audience in thrall. Under the stage lights, you seemed more than human—a celestial being, your form bathed in soft light, glowing like an ethereal angel, kissed by the very air around you. The boys stood frozen, their gaze fixed upon you, entranced.

Your presence was no illusion. You were a goddess of their own making, and in that moment, they knew: they were already devoted, bound by the silent understanding that they would worship you, body and soul.

As the video played, the room fell into a hushed reverence. The boys, once brimming with urgency and tension, now stood motionless, their eyes locked onto the screen, as if spellbound. Every fluid movement you made seemed to breathe life into the very air around them. They couldn’t look away; they didn’t want to. Your every step, every pirouette, was poetry in motion, a delicate balance of strength and grace that made their hearts race.

The way you arched your back mid-spin, the soft brush of your fingertips against your skin, the quiet breath you took before every leap—it all drew them in, slowly, methodically, as though they were witnessing something far beyond the ordinary. Each turn of your body mirrored the very rhythm of their own hearts, synchronized with the ethereal pulse of the music, and they couldn’t help but feel as if the entire world had narrowed down to this one sacred moment.

Your eyes, though focused on the stage, seemed to flicker with a spark of something far deeper, something they couldn't quite place but could almost taste. It was like watching a dream unfold, where every movement became a metaphor—each glide across the stage spoke to something eternal, something untouchable. They found themselves lost in the elegance of your form, the way your body seemed to move with a natural fluidity that defied the laws of physics.

The lights above you softened, caressing your silhouette, painting you in a divine glow. And in that moment, they felt small, insignificant even, as if you had been carved out of stardust itself, too perfect to comprehend, yet impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the skill of your dance—it was your presence, your essence that held them captive.

They felt an almost primal pull, as though your every movement was speaking directly to their souls. The way your body spoke without words—your elegance and power blending seamlessly—rendered them speechless. They were entranced by the aura you carried, intoxicated by your beauty and the mystery you exuded, a beauty that wasn’t merely skin-deep but radiated from within, a force of nature.

For a fleeting moment, they could almost believe that you were more than human, that you were something higher, something divine. They stood there, wide-eyed and breathless, as if they had been granted a glimpse of something sacred—something that no one else could understand. And in that moment, they knew that they would follow you, worship you, in a devotion that transcended mere admiration. You weren’t just captivating; you were everything. They couldn't believe that someone like you had been overlooked by then.

Bruce now understands that with no plan in mind he would still follow you till the end of the earth. Oh his little baby. He would do anything to earn your love and affection for him. To see you and to bask under the ray of sunshine your smile brings. To feel your presence alone.

Dick now understands that he owes you more than a few dinners or dates as siblings. No. He owes you the world. As guilt eats his flesh up one by one, mourning all the versions of you that he could have witnessed right before his eyes are now long gone. But that's okay, he'll make it up to you.

Tim now understands that you were surely his angel. His savior. His form of salvation. He could watch you all day and never get bored. He could listen to you all day until his ears bled but never say a word.

Damian now understands that the disbelief he felt when looking at your paintings full of emotions overflowing with a sense of overwhelming feel, was now long gone because he knew that only such being like you, almost like a supernatural being, could be the only one who has the ability to capture such deep emotions in one painting, to be able to create such beautiful, breathtaking object.

Cassandra now understands why she felt like she somehow had a connection to you and that was because she was your sister. And as she was a daughter to batman by choice, that she will also be a sister by choice to you. She was an observer, someone who guards-and she will guard you with her life for all eternity.

As the overwhelming tension fills the room Alfred stands at the corner with a small smile. “apologies master y/n had I done this sooner, you would have not slipped through my grasp dear child. Do not fret for your family is coming to get you.”

Ah, Alfred, the mastermind. He knew this would happen. He just needed to intertwine a little. He did not worry because he knew. He knew that leaving your bedroom door open the moment he knew Dick was coming over to the manor while the others were busy, and knowing Dick's tendency to wander off in the vast expanse of Wayne Manor, the chances of him finding your room were high. He knew that rearranging your trophies inside your room (which you had told him to get rid of) would pique the interest of your family even more. He knew that decorating your hidden paintings around the minimalist and empty walls of the house would catch the attention of the youngest Wayne. He knew that playing those soft melodies of your voice through the small TV in the kitchen would enchant a certain sleep-deprived boy, making him miss the sweet sound of your voice.

Alfred knew that when Cassandra was called for the big ballet play, you would be at the same play too, as you had told him over the phone, giggling and excited with a high-pitched voice. He didn't bother to tell you about your sister's similar invitation, nor did he inform your sister about yours. He knew every single detail, every thread that needed to be woven together to create this intricate tapestry of reconnection.

Alfred's wisdom was like a silent symphony, orchestrating events with a delicate touch. He understood the nuances of each family member, their strengths, their weaknesses, and their desires. He knew that Dick's curiosity would lead him to your room, where the trophies would spark memories and questions. He knew that Damian's keen eye for detail would be drawn to the vibrant paintings, each brushstroke a testament to your hidden talents. He knew that Tim, in his sleep-deprived state, would be captivated by the melodies of your voice, a soothing balm to his restless mind.

Alfred's heart ached with the knowledge of your absence, but he also held hope. Hope that these carefully placed breadcrumbs would lead your family back to you, to the realization of what they had lost and the determination to make amends. He knew that the path to reconciliation was not an easy one, but it was a journey worth taking.

As the days passed, Alfred watched with a knowing smile as the pieces began to fall into place. He saw the flicker of recognition in Dick's eyes, the softening of Damian's demeanor, and the spark of determination in Tim's gaze. He knew that the seeds he had planted were beginning to grow, and soon, the family would be whole again.

Alfred was getting old and he couldn't bare the vision of his children Bruce and you, drifting away from each other, and you from him. Maybe it was his own selfish reason but he couldn't help it. He raised you from the moment you got to the manor. Teached you everything he knew and gave you all the love he could. He watched you grew up and maybe it was a moment of rush that he allowed himself to be selfish and turn the tables around.

In the quiet moments, Alfred allowed himself a moment of reflection. He thought of you, the child who had brought so much light into his life. He knew that you deserved to be seen, to be cherished, and to be loved. And he would do everything in his power to ensure that you found your way back to the family that needed you just as much as you needed them.

Authors note: I'm sorry I took so long in writing this! I hope yall enjoy the 10k+ words I wrote. One tip tho is to read and observe the details very carefully! Dw I'm gonna explain it soon tho. Hope yall enjoy this cuz imma take a break after this.

[rosenclaws]

So This Is Love (Cinderella AU) || Logan x Reader

summary: You've spent most of your life being your stepfamilies maid and nothing more. But a chance encounter and an announcement of a royal ball could change everything.

warnings: fem!reader, toxic family, loss, angst, arguments, abusive household, fluffy ending. Typical cinderella story stuff

a/n: Okay so I am so excited for this!! I adore cinderella. Both the 1950 and the 2015 one. I kind of mixed both for this story and then added a few things myself. Also the dress I had in mind was the one from the 2015 movie because it's fucking gorgeous. I hope you all love prince Logan and that I was able to do the classic cinderella story justice. I also tried adding some x-men related names to keep the logan vibes but idk if its weird or not im sorry afasdfghj

Kindness.

Your mother always told you how important that was. To be kind even when the world looked down upon you for it. Treat everyone and everything with a gentle hand a nice smile. That's the way she lived her life. Always with a smile on her face. She just glowed. Your earlier memories of her were filled with joy and laughter. Going to the town market and greeting every one who ran the stalls.

The flower merchant was your favorite. Every time she had the prettiest flowers of all sorts of colors. Your mother always let you pick out one and place it in your hair. You had never felt more beautiful. Your father was just the same. The two of them were in love and everyone could see just how happy the little family was.

Then one day your mother got sick.

She fainted in the yard. You were only a child, your mother wouldn't wake up. You rushed to get your father and the next thing you knew you were sitting outside of her room being told it was time to say goodbye.

The light seemed to dim that day. Your father, he did his best. He loved you and tried to make you smile but things grew tougher and tougher for the two of you. He remarried to a woman who was cold at best. Distant and uncaring towards you with two daughters, Cassandra and Raven, who never gave you the time of day. But your father cared. But sometimes life was just too much.

The day your father died was the day the light truly left your world. Kindness. How could the world be so cruel to a family that only showed the best to everyone around them? Your stepmother grew cold and mean, your step sisters even crueler. You became the maid for the house. You cooked and cleaned and did the laundry.

The attic became your home. But even after it all, you could never forget your mothers words. So even when it was hard, you smiled. For it was all you could do.

The clock tower wakes you up just like it does every morning. The sun shines through the window and you sit up. You sigh as you try and hold on to the wisps of your dreams. It was of your mother this time. You loved those dreams. But there was no time to dilly dally. Getting up you open the window to let the fresh air in. A few little robins land on the window sill.

"Hello little ones, it's a lovely morning isn't it." You reach down into the small sack of bird seed and place a some in front of their feet. You hold out your finger and one of them hops onto it.

"Time to start another day," You hum.

Once they had eaten you watch them fly away, a part of you wishing you could join them. Wondering what it was like to be free. But there was no time to wonder. You did your chores like clockwork. Making the morning tea and breakfast for your step mother and sisters. Gather their laundry, feed the animals, tend to the garden.

"Hello mister, what are you doing here?" As you pulled fresh carrots from the ground you found a little field mouse hiding between the greens.

"Are you hungry?" You don't reach out, not wanting to scare him.

His big eyes looked up at you and his nose twitched. Sometimes you wondered if they could understand you, your animal friends were lovely company. Reaching into your pocket you pull out some left over chicken feed.

"I know it's not much but I hope it will do." The mouse gathers it in his little paws and scurries away. You smile as you bring back the veggies.

"Perhaps we'll do soup for dinner, how does that sound?" You ask Bruno the family dog who was sitting at your feet.

He lets out a low huff and you chuckle. A loud ring echoes through the kitchen. The bell on the wall signals you were needed at the front door. You hurried up the stairs to the door.

"Hello sir, how can I help you?" The man wordlessly hands you a letter and leaves.

You turn the letter over in your hands. You could just tell this was no ordinary letter. The envelope was cream colored with beautiful gold lettering. On the back rested a solid red wax seal with the royal crest pressed into it. At once you hurried to the study where your sisters were practicing music. You weren't supposed to interrupt but this was a letter from the castle. You cautiously open the door and three sets of eyes rest on you.

"Ma'am I'm sorry to-"

"What have I told you about interrupting us? You insolent child." Your step mother berates. You hold out the letter and lower your head.

"I know but a letter from the castle came and-" Once again your cut off as your step mother rips the letter from your hands. Your step sisters squealed so loud you swore the glass would break.

"A ball is to be held for all the the eligible maidens of the Kingdom." Your step mother announces to your step sisters. Cassandra grabs the letter from her mother and continues to read.

"The prince will take a wife!" Raven rips it from her sisters hands.

"The ball is to be held in two weeks! That's not enough time, we need new dresses and make up." The two girls are sent into frenzy at the news.

Meanwhile you were still processing the news. All the eligible maidens, well that meant you too! Oh your mother used to tell stories of going to balls. Dressing up and dancing to the music.

"Go to the village at once! Place an order with the seamstress for three dresses. And get the girls whatever they need." Your step mother commands and hands you the money. Your step sisters were busy writing down all the things they needed.

"Three dresses Ma'am?" She stops and looks at you in confusion.

"Yes three, for me and your sisters obviously."

"But the invitation says all eligible maidens...may...go." Your voice trails off as the three of them stare at you.

A moment of silence passes before all three of them burst out in laughter. You want nothing more than to disappear. Shame creeping up as they laugh like the idea of you going anywhere was just so amusing.

"You? Go to the ball in those rags?" Raven cackles. You smooth down your dress, trying to get rid of the wrinkles.

"What prince would ever want a peasant girl for a wife?" Cassandra adds on.

"Girls please, it's not her fault she's so...imaginative." Your step mother walks up to you. You feel so small under her gaze.

"Look at you, be serious. You are not worthy of a prince my dear." You feel tears pool in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall in front of them.

"I just want to go to the ball, What if I made my own dress?" You ask quietly. Your step mother thinks for a moment before a smirk crosses her face.

"Perhaps if you find your own dress and finish all the chores, you can go." Protests erupt from your step sisters but one look quiets them down. She takes their list and hands it to you.

"Now run along now, only the best for me and my girls." Without another word you turn on your heel and leave.

Your step mothers words replay over and over in your head. Worthy of a prince, you don't care about the prince. All you want is one night away, to enjoy yourself and forget about the hardships. The fabric for a dress would cost a pretty penny that you don't have. Not to mention the chores. But it wasn't impossible.

There's a dress hidden in the attic, it was your mothers. It wasn't anything impressive but it was a dress and it held a lot of special memories. The town was bustling with excitement from the news. The castle hasn't held a ball in years, ever since the Queen had passed unexpectedly one night the King had shut the doors of the castle. No one had even seen the prince. They knew not his face, only a name. James.

"Hello Eden, It's lovely to see you again." You greet the town seamstress with a smile.

"I assume you've gotten a plethora of orders since the announcement." Eden was the best seamstress in a hundred miles of here. She was older but her skills never wavered. She used to patch up your dresses when you came with your mother.

"Yes my dear, thank goodness for my daughters or I'd never finish it all in time."

"I'm afraid I'm here to add to your list. My step mother wishes to order three dresses for the ball." You hand Eden the money and she sighs. Your family was not easy clients. Always nitpicking her work and treating her like dirt.

"Only three?" You smile sadly as she adds the order to her stack.

"It's alright, I have an old dress of my mothers somewhere. It just needs to be fixed up and It's ready to go." Eden smiles softly and places her hands on top of yours.

She was always kind to you since your parents passed. She was like the grandmother you never had. "Here my dear, perhaps you can use some of these." She reaches down beneath the counter and hands you a box filled with scrap fabric and some jewels.

"Oh Eden thank you, this is perfect." You take the items and place them in your satchel.

You leave Eden's and begin on the list of things your step sisters have asked for. You bounced from shop to shop buying all of their strange requests. Your bag grew heavy as the sun moved through the sky.

"Hey! Get back here!" You turn your head to see the baker yelling at a little girl. She was dressed in rags, dirt on her face with a loaf of bread in her hands. He has her by her wrist and she was trying to get free. Without thinking you storm over.

"You little brat! I'll show you what happens to thieves like you!" The baker hisses and before he can do anything else you get between them.

"Stop that! She's a child!"

"She's a thief." His grip tightens on her little wrist and you feel yourself growing angry.

"She's hungry, can't you spare her some kindness." You plead.

While the baker is distracted the little girl bites his hand making him yelp in pain. He lets go of her and she runs away. With the girl gone the baker's anger turns to you.

"You stupid girl! You owe me for that bread and more. I hope that little girl was worth it!" You don't have any money left and the baker was growing more and more upset.

"I don't have the money sir but I can pay you back tomorrow." You tell him but he doesn't like that answer. You gasp as he grabs your arm tightly.

"You aren't leaving until that bread is paid for!" Before you can say anything else a large hand grabs the bakers.

You look to the side and see a man glaring at the baker. You don't recognize him but from the looks of his clothes he was most likely a nobleman visiting.

"Unhand the lady immediately." His voice is stern as the baker does what he says.

"That girl cost me a loaf of bread!" The man steps between the two of you, almost like he's acting as a guard.

"So? Are you that desperate for money that you can't spare a loaf of bread for a needy child?" The man asks.

The baker begins to stutter but the stranger seems to not care at all. The stranger relishing him to a nervous mess. You wonder just who this man was.

"You're embarrassing yourself sir, I would go back to your shop if I were you." The baker does as told, mumbling to himself as he retreats back into his shop. The man suddenly turns to you.

"Are you alright?" He stands so tall as he looks down at your arm. The man before you was unlike anyone you've seen. A handsome face but a stern aura. His clothes were woven with intricate detail and he was well kept.

"Yes, thank you sir." You bow your head to the man in thanks.

"That man was out of line, you were only trying to help." He states. You grew nervous under his intense eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a pair of eyes watching you. It was the little girl, she quickly ducks behind a wall and you follow her. The man following you.

"Hello sweetheart, It's okay I won't hurt you." You say gently as you kneel down. She looks at you and then at the man with cautious eyes. You reach into your bag and pull out a few apples you had bought for a pie.

"Here, take them." She quickly grabs them from your hands and hides them away.

"Thank you." She says quietly.

"What's your name?" The man asks, he kneels down just like you. For some reason she doesn't seem afraid of him.

"Laura."

"That's a pretty name, where do you live?" He offers her a kind smile and she seems to relax a little bit.

"The orphanage." She replies.

Your heart breaks as you watch her small figure devour one of the apples. The orphanage was filled with too many kids and not enough money to help. The kids were often left starving and lonely. She must have snuck out to get food.

"Want to go back." She looks at the two of you and you reach out your hand.

"Come along then." Her tiny hand fits in yours as you walk her back to the orphanage.

The man comes with the two of you, his presence enough to deter any stares or rude comments. When you bring her to the front gates she rushes into the yard, pulling out the bread and breaking it apart to give to the other children. She looks back at the two of you and waves.

"That was a very kind thing you did back there." The man says, watching Laura with a frown.

"I just wanted to help her." You adjust the bag on your shoulder, its heavy weight taking a toll.

"Allow me." Before you can protest the man takes your bag and effortlessly puts it on his own shoulder.

"Oh it's okay sir, the walk back is far and I don't want to burden you." You try and reach for the bag but he doesn't let you.

"I don't mind. I would like to walk you back if that's alright with you. A gesture of kindness for earlier." You want to accept but you're hesitant, you don't even know who this man is. But he seems kind and you could use the help. It's been a long time since a stranger has shown you such kindness.

"Okay, but before you go I must ask your name." He begins to speak but stops himself, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment.

"Logan, my name is Logan."

"Are you from here Logan? Or are you only here for the ball?" "I grew up here." His answers are short but you don't mind. It's nice being able to talk to someone who doesn't stand on four legs.

"Are all these things for the ball, a little excessive don't you think?" He's very straightforward but you appreciate that.

"It's not for me, it's for my step sisters. They wanted all new make up and a new dress and anything they could think of." Logan chuckles and looks fondly at you.

"I don't understand the appeal of a ball to be honest, it seems like a place for obnoxious people to be around other obnoxious people." Logan states plainly.

"Perhaps, but for people like me it's exciting. My mother used to love to dress up and this is my chance to do the same."

"Used to?" Logan asks, his gaze softening as he notices your eyes flicker with sadness.

"She passed some time ago." You say sadly.

"My apologies." He looks at you and then looks forward at the path.

"My mother passed too."

"Oh Logan I'm so sorry." You place your hand on his arm in a moment of comfort.

"It’s okay, that’s just how life goes sometimes.” You wanted the talk to last forever.

But far too soon you reached the edge of town. You didn’t want him to know where you lived, if he walked you all the way back your stepmother might see him. It's better to keep him away from your mess.

“This is good. I can walk the rest of the way.” You tell him. He frowns as you stop dead in your tracks.

“Are you certain?” He asks in a confused tone.

“Yes, thank you so much Logan but I really must be going.” You take the bag and hurry off, leaving him standing alone in the road.

You were scolded for returning so late but you could care less. You had a dress to make. For the next two weeks every spare moment you had was dedicated to fixing your mothers dress. The spare fabric was perfect to patch up holes and add a satin neckline while the jewels made the whole dress shine. You powered through the chores and the lack of sleep for this.

Every now and again your thoughts would drift to Logan. Wondering if you’d see him at the ball, if you could get to dance with the man who came to your rescue. He was a very handsome man that you couldn’t deny. Would he even be interested in dancing with you? Would he care that you were nothing more than a peasant girl? He might take one look at you at home and run for the hills. But a girl can dream can’t she.

The day of the ball you were buzzing with excitement. Your chores were all done and all that’s left was to get ready. You hear the stomping of the horses outside and you hurried down the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Your step mother asks. Eyeing your dress with a disgusted look. The smile on your face drops.

“I finished my chores and I have a dress…you said I could go if I did all those things.”

“You call that a dress?” Raven scoffs. She circles you like a predator.

“This is nothing but a disaster. Imagine you dancing with the prince. Tripping over your own two feet and then oops,” She grabs a piece of your dress and rips it apart.

“Stop!” You cry as you try and grab the piece in her hand. Cassandra grabs the newly sewn neckline and rips it off.

“See? Nothing but a cheap imitation of real class.” You beg them to stop as they tear apart your dress.

Your mothers dress. All your hard work, your hope was gone. Tears stream down your face as you grab the scraps from their hands.

“Oh dear, it appears you don’t have a dress anymore. What a shame. Come along girls.” You watch through blurry vision as they leave.

Cackling with joy as they board the carriage. You don’t understand. Why do they hate you so much? What did you ever do to you? You’ve tried your whole life to be kind, to make your mother proud but it feels like the world is punishing you for it.

Your mother is gone. Your father is gone. The only family, if you can even call them that, hates you. They treat you like dirt. You race through the house. Running to the backyard and collapsing onto the ground. You sob into the scraps of fabric as you mourn the life you’ve missed. The hurt bubbling to the service.

“I’m sorry mother, I can’t do this anymore. I’m trying to be like you but I just can’t.”

“My dear, please don’t cry.” You scream as an unfamiliar voice speaks into your ear. You scramble back as a man in a red mask and a poofy white dress stands before you.

“W-Who are you?” You ask in disbelief.

“Well I’m Wade, your fairy godmother of course!” He says happily, pulling out a wand and sending sparks into the air. You watch in awe as the color bursts into the air.

“My what?”

“Fairy godmother! Corset and all sweetheart. My organs are all touching.” He whispers that last part to you.

“I don’t understand, You can do magic?”

“Uh, the magic wand here isn’t just for show.” He says while waving it around. A burst of magic shoots from the tip accidently and goes right through the attic window. He makes a noise and looks back at you.

“Whoopsie. Still working out the kinks.” He says while slamming the wand against his hand. You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Anyways, It is my job to get you to the ball and to get you to the hot prince who’s waiting for you.” He leans in and nudges your shoulder.

“You’ll have to tell me if he really does have hair, everywhere.” You squeak at the implication and Wade just skips off. He points his wand at the pumpkin patch.

“I’ve always wanted to do this!” He says excitedly. He speaks the magic words and before your very eyes a pumpkin grows and grows until he becomes a carriage. You gasp in amazement. Rushing over admiring the gorgeous white carriage.

“Okay now we need some horses!” Wade looks around the garden and sees a few field mice watching in the grass.

“Okay I haven’t done mice yet but what could go wrong right?” He shoots his magic at the mice and misses, causing a carrot to crawl out of the ground and run away.

“Will you just stay still! The cartoon mice were much more cooperative.” It takes him a few tries but he eventually gets them all.

Four beautiful stallions at the front of your carriage. A goose sitting by the fountain finds himself victim to Wade’s magic. Becoming a footman in an instant.

“Now we need to fix. All of this.” He gestures to your dress.

"Yeesh, would not say yes to this dress.” He mumbles as he starts to wave his wand.

“Oh! Please be gentle with this. It was my mothers.” You ask. You don’t want a full replacement. Just a little touch up.

“Don’t worry. I know what to do!” He cracks his knuckles and neck.

“Okay, maximum effort.” Magic surrounds you as you feel the dress change.

Your jaw drops as the torn rags turn into a beautiful blue ball gown. It was the prettiest dress you had ever seen. The way it swished and sparkled in the moonlight. It was beyond your wildest dreams. You lift your dress only to find crystal glass slippers adorned on your feet.

“I never understood glass slippers. As if heels weren’t hard enough to walk in. Trust me. These are killing me.” He lifts his own dress to show you heels taller than you’ve ever seen.

“It makes my butt look amazing though.” You laugh as you twirl around.

“Oh thank you Wade. How can I ever repay you for this?”

“Aw don’t worry child, You deserve this.” He pats your head and takes your hand, helping you into the carriage.

“First things first, I will hide your identity to your family for plot convenience so they won’t recognize you.” He taps his wand on your cheek and you wince as it pokes your skin.

“Second, to keep things interesting, this only lasts until midnight. Once the clock strikes 12 everything will revert back to the way it was. Except for the glass slippers. For some reason.” You nod, you don’t need this to last forever. This was enough. Just one night was enough.

“Thank you Wade. For everything.” You lean over and kiss his cheek.

“Awe, you really know how to make a guy blush. Now hurry! You don’t have much time. Mush horsies mush!” The horses take off and you watch Wade disappear in the distance.

You can barely contain your joy as you head to the castle. You couldn’t stop touching the dress or the plush seats of the carriage. It was unbelievable. A part of you was afraid if you blinked it would all go away or that this was just a dream and you were still back home. But as you near the castle it feels all too real. As you reach the steps of the castle your footman helps you out onto the ground. You turn and curtsy to the horses and to your footman.

“Thank you all.” Your heels clack on the marble stairs as you race up to the grand hall.

You’re awestruck at the beauty of the castle. Before the ballroom you stop in front of a large portrait of who you assume to be the royal family. The King sits regal as ever with the Queen standing by his side. A kind smile on her face as her hands rest on the Prince’s shoulder. The prince is only a child but you see he had his mothers hazel eyes. You bow to the portrait and then move to the ballroom.

The doors open and suddenly everyone's eyes are on you. A hush falls over the crowd as you walk up to the balcony. You see the King sitting at the front of the room, bowing in respect. You effortlessly glide down the stairs to the main floor. Whispers are shared throughout the guests but you pay them no mind. You were truly here. The music starts up again and the party slowly goes back to normal. You weaved your way through the crowd. Sneaking a chocolate covered strawberry from the dessert table. It was the sweetest thing you had ever tasted.

“That was quite an entrance.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn around, your dress moving with you.

“Logan! You came.” You say with a smile. You weren’t sure you’d ever see him again. He’s dressed in white with accents of blue. His clothes are crisp and fitted perfectly.

“I thought you didn’t care for these.” He shrugs and looks around the room.

“I don’t, but I was hoping to find a familiar face.” Your breath catches in your throat as he reaches up and wipes chocolate from your lips. A half smile on his lips.

“I love chocolate too,” He says with an amused look.

“You know I never caught your name.” He remarks and you smile.

“You never asked.” You reply. Logan raises an eyebrow but chuckles at your response. The music dies down as the song comes to an end.

“Dance with me.” He holds out his hand but you shake your head.

“Oh I don’t dance Logan.”

“You can’t come to a ball and not dance love.” Your heart flutters at the pet name. It just sounds so sweet coming from him.

“The last time I danced I was a little girl standing on my fathers toes.” You admit shyly. Logan hums and tilts your chin up with his hand. The distance between the two of you closing in.

“Just trust me my love, I won’t let you fall.” He takes your hand and you follow him. He glances at the band and subtly nods his head. They start to play a new song as Logan positions your hands.

“Don’t look at anyone else but me.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re horribly nervous as the music starts. Just don’t step on his toes and you’ll be fine. Your feet move clumsily at first but with an encouraging smile from Logan you find your footing. The two of you glide across the ballroom. Capturing the attention of everyone in the room. You barely even noticed as you found yourself getting lost in his hazel eyes.

True to his word he never lets you fall. You don’t know how you’re dancing like this but you don't care. The two of you dance like you’ve been partners for years. Matching each other's movements effortlessly.

“You’re a natural my love.” He says with a grin.

“Only because I have you.” You say with a smile.

Happiness threatens to burst through your heart as the music comes to an end. Applause fills the room but you only pay attention to Logan. More couples join the dance floor as the music starts back up but you and Logan stay still in the middle of the dance floor.

“Prince James!” You hear a voice call. You pay no mind but Logan seems to tense.

“It’s far too crowded here, let's go somewhere quieter.” He takes your hand and guides you through the room. Weaving between people until you’re out of the grand ballroom.

“Logan, are we supposed to be here?” You ask worriedly.

“Don’t worry, trust me.” He says with a wink.

You admire the portraits and paintings on the wall. Logan brings you through the castle until you find yourself outside in the royal gardens. Colorful flowers fill the courtyard along with a marble fountain. You can’t help yourself as you admire every plant and flower.

Logan watched you with a smile on his face. You really are something special. But there's something he needs to confess. He wishes he didn’t have to but he cannot hide it any longer.

“My love, there’s something I need to tell you.” He says cautiously.

“Yes Logan?”

“I haven’t been completely honest with you about my identity. The truth is…” He trails off. Unsure of how to tell you.

“You’re the crowned Prince. Aren’t you?” There’s no anger in your voice. Only amusement. Logan’s jaw falls as he tries to gather his words.

“Did you know the moment we met?” He asks in disbelief. You shake your head, eyes turning back to the roses in the garden.

“I didn’t know until right now. Well a couple minutes ago. You led me through the castle without a second thought, you’re wearing the royal crest, and there are paintings of you and your family in every hall of the castle.” You explain with a giggle. Logan groans, of course you’d notice all of that.

“But most of all, you have your mothers eyes.” You reach up and cup his face, staring into those enchanting hazel eyes.

“Are you not angry with me for lying about my true identity?”

“No my prince, I understand why you did so. It must be so hard sometimes. So lonely.” He sighs and covers your hand with his.

“It can be yes, no siblings and a father who has shut you out since your mother passed.”

Logan’s life wasn't what all his subjects thought it to be. Perhaps when he was a child it was. His father was a cold man. Only caring about ruling his kingdom and nothing more. The only time he would talk to Logan was to berate him or remind him of his future responsibilities. No rough housing, no crying, no coddling. He will be the future king which means he must act like it.

It didn’t matter that he was only a child. His mother was much kinder. She stayed with him when he was sick or when he had a nightmare. She taught him everything he knows. Gardening, cooking, reading, dancing. All his mother. She would tell him stories of brave soldiers who slayed dragons and tales of prince’s meeting their princesses.

When she died, he was only a teenager. His father who was already a cold man grew even colder. His heart was frozen by the loss of his wife. Since then Logan had to become the model King his father wished him to be. Locked in the castle walls with no one. It didn’t take long for him to learn how to sneak out from under his fathers rule. He swore one day he’d leave and never look back. But that day never came.

The day his father got sick. He knows what’s coming. There’s no doctor in the world who can cure what his father has. It’s why his father planned the whole ball. Logan was to become King soon and he needed a wife. But this wasn’t how Logan wanted things to go. He doesn’t want to marry out of obligation. But despite being the prince, he’s utterly helpless.

“I’m so sorry, my prince.”

“Logan, please call me Logan.” He begs, he’s not your prince out here. Not when it’s just the two of you. You nod and he leads you through the gardens.

“Why Logan? We were told the Prince’s name was James.” You ask.

“James is my fathers name. But my mother gave me the name Logan. I prefer it to my given name.” Logan explains, his hand reaching down to pluck a white rose from one of the bushes. He carefully picks the thorns off the stem and holds it out to you.

“A pretty flower for a beautiful woman.” You bite your lip as he gently places the flower into your hair.

“Perfect.” He whispers. The falling vines shield you from the prying eyes of the walkway.

“Logan, aren’t you supposed to find a wife tonight?” You ask and his face hardens.

“My fathers idea. He wants me to be married for the good of the kingdom.” Logan huffs as he rolls his eyes.

“It doesn't matter what I wish for myself.”

“What do you wish for?” He looks at you with a look you can’t quite place. His hands cup your face and he brings himself closer to you.

“I want to marry for love, to find someone who cares for me and not just my title.”

“I see,” You squeak out. Your heart pounds in your chest as Logan edges ever closer. His gloved hands hold your face with such care. His lips just ghosting over yours.

“I believe I’ve found it.” He mumbles. Your eyes flutter closed as Logan closes the gap. You can barely feel his lips when the clock tower chimes through the courtyard. You gasp as you look at the time.

Midnight. You have to leave.

“Logan I, I’m sorry.” You turn and run as fast as you can. Through the garden back into the castle to the front doors.

“Wait, please don’t leave!” Logan calls after you. He’s running after you with all his might.

The carriage is waiting for you at the foot of the steps. You rush carelessly down the stairs. You feel your shoe fly off and you stop to grab it but Logan is close behind you. You can’t risk it. Before you can get into your carriage you hear him call for you again.

“Your name, I never got your name.” You turn back to see him on the steps.

He’s silently begging you not to leave. You almost tell him, almost. But reality has come crashing down on you. He’s the prince. He must marry someone important. Someone who can become queen one day. Someone who isn’t you.

“I’m sorry Logan.” You jump in the carriage and before Logan can do anything you’re off.

Logan bends down and picks up the glass shoe. He kicks himself for never asking your name. From the moment he saw you he felt a connection. You didn’t know who he was but you were so nice. Protecting that little girl without a second thought. Logan is normally a stoic man but you were easy to talk to. He wanted to talk to you.

The doors open as the guests start to file out. He feels a hand grab his arm and drag him back into the castle where his angry father awaits him.

“James! Where on earth did you go?! Do you know what a ruckuss you caused? Dancing with a mystery woman just to disappear for the rest of the night?!” His father yells but Logan could care less.

“She is my future wife. I know it. You wished for me to marry well I found a wife.”

“Well where is she?” His father asks. Logan looks down at the slipper and then back to his father.

“She ran. But I will find her. That’s a promise.” He says but his father just sighs. 

“Son. Why can’t you just pick someone else? Princess Jean from the Grey family of the neighboring kingdom is interested and your marriage would be great for both our kingdoms.” His father says like its a matter of fact. Knowing his father Logan wouldn’t be surprised if he had already agreed to the marriage without even speaking to him.

“Because I love her father!” Logan roars. He is sick of being controlled by his father. He will rule the kingdom. He will be king one day and he will do it his way.

“Love doesn’t matter! Look what love got you son. She left you. She’s gone.” His father shouts.

“How could you say that? Did mother mean nothing to you? Did you not love her?!” Logan challenges. His eyes burn with intensity as he marches right up to his father. Logan’s chest heaves as his father sinks into his throne.

“Your mother was the love of my life.” He starts.

“But she died. My love could not heal her and now she’s gone. Please, I am doing this for your own good.” King James pleads. For the first time in the last 20 years Logan saw a hint of vulnerability break through his fathers hard shell.

“I love her. It may end in heartbreak, she may not want me. But all I know is I love her. Give me one week to find her. That’s all I ask. One week and if I fail then I will marry Princess Jean.” Logan drops to his knees.

His one last desperate effort to appeal to his father. His mother would want him to marry for love and he’s found it. He can’t give up on it now.

“Deal. One week James.”

True to what Wade had said, everything turned back to normal. Your dress, the carriage, the horses, and the footman. The gooses waddled by your side as the mice sat inside of your glass shoe as you walked back to your house. That night was something out of your wildest dreams.

Dancing with the prince, with Logan. The smile wouldn’t leave your face. How could it? You hummed the song that was playing as you danced to yourself. It didn’t matter how much your feet hurt, you were happy. The glass slipper sparkled in the moonlight.

You’re glad you have something to remember the night by, to prove it wasn’t just a dream. After letting the mice free you ran back to your room, just as you heard the carriage pull up. Prying the loose floorboard up you place the shoe gently inside, a keepsake you’ll hold dear forever.

The next morning you went back to your old life, being treated like dirt once again but it was okay. For when you had the chance you would daydream of the night before. Your sisters would not stop talking about the ball. Angry that they never got to speak to the prince and that some mystery woman stole him away. They’ll never know that was you. That the prince had chosen you to spend his night with.

No matter how cruel your family was, how much work they gave you, you were still happy. News had traveled quickly that the prince was looking for the mystery girl, a single glass shoe his only way of finding her. Your step mother had alerted your sisters this morning. A week to find his true love, how romantic.

You tried to balance your feelings. Could he really find you all the way out here? Would he even look past the town? He didn’t even know your name. What if he saw the true nature of your life, that you were not the woman he thought you were? What if he thought you were a princess or a noblewoman? That day in the town you had spent a lot of coins. Would he want you as just a peasant maid girl?

”I expect the house to be spotless for the prince’s visit.” Your step mother demands.

Not a single speck of dirt is allowed. You worked tirelessly day and night. Even when your step sisters would spill something on purpose or tip over your water bucket, you managed to get it done. The prince was to travel to the outskirts of the town by mid afternoon. You were absolutely exhausted. You trudged up the stairs to your room. To your shock your step mother was sitting on your bed, your glass slipper dangling from her finger.

“Where did you find that?” Your voice quivering with fear. You hid that away, you only brought it out in the dead of night. How could she have found it?

“Do you think me a fool, my dear?” Her voice is cold, void of any emotion as she swings the slipper back and forth.

“Please don’t!” You reach forward but she pulls it back. Your steps falter, her stare grounding you to the spot you’re standing in.

“It’s fragile.” You whisper.

“You really are dreadful at keeping secrets. Humming a tune, swaying to the imaginary music when you think no one is looking. And this.” She holds out the slipper.

“The mystery girl at the ball had shoes made of crystal, my dear. I wonder just how fragile it really is.”

“Please, I don’t want anything from you. I've done the chores I’ve kept quiet…” Your step mother stands up and marches over to you. She leers down at you in utter discontent.

“Silence! You insolent girl. You have ruined everything! I knew I should have thrown you out the minute your father died. All he cared about was you, I was his wife but he gave you all his attention. Probably because he was still in love with that wretched woman.”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that! You know nothing of who she was. She was kind, strong and loving. Everything you aren’t!” You shout back.

Your step mothers faced into shock and then to anger. But you couldn’t stop, once the gates had been opened it’s all flooding out.

“Why are you so cruel to me? What could I possibly have done to you? I was a child! A child who had lost both her parents and you couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy. Not one.” You fall to your knees, years of built up emotions flooding out of you. You wince as your stepmother grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.” She snarled.

“You are nothing but a worthless little girl and you will never be anything more than that. Do you understand me?” Her eyes are burning with rage. She tightens her grip on the heel of your slipper. Your eyes widen as you realize what she’s going to do.

“No!” You scream as she slams the slipper to the ground.

It shatters into pieces before your eyes. Scattering across your floor. You sob as you grab at the pieces you can still hold. You look up at your step mother with tearful eyes.

For a second, perhaps it is your imagination, you see a flicker of regret. But it disappears just as quickly as it came. The sound of horses comes rumbling in the distance. Your stepmother walks past you. The heel of the slipper is still in her hands.

“Make a sound and you’ll never step foot outside again.” She slams your door shut and you hear the click of the lock.

You cry and cry your heart out. Holding the broken pieces of crystal to your chest. The one happy moment in your heart has been shattered just like everything else. Why couldn’t they just let you be happy for once? You spent your whole life trying to live through kindness and you thought that maybe the world would show you a little too.

But it’s done the worst thing. It gave you a sliver of hope, a sliver of happiness and then it crushed it. Crushed it until there’s nothing left.

Maybe this is just the life you’re meant to have, perhaps the happiness wasn’t meant to be. Logan was too good to be true, he’ll find a new wife after this week. He’ll become King and forget all about you. Even when he’ll be all you dream about for the rest of your life.

You gently place the broken pieces on top of a piece of fabric, bundling them up and placing them under your bed. The tears have slowly stopped falling. You rest your arms on the window sill. A light breeze comes through to dry your tears. You stare at the castle in the distance.

Replaying the night over in your head in hopes that it brings you some peace. 

“Hello Prince James.” Logan stands at the door of the house. Your stepmother and stepsisters bow in his presence.

“These are my daughters Cassandra and Raven.” Logan nods as the two girls eye him shamelessly.

“Let's get this over with.” Logan mumbles to the guards who were standing beside him.

He’s searched through the whole kingdom. Today marks a week since that night of the ball. Today was his last chance to find you and he’s almost given up hope. The shoe hasn’t fit anyone, he knows if he sees you he won’t even need the shoe but it was a way to make sure in his fathers eyes.

“My aren’t you handsome.” Raven purrs, reaching out to touch his chest. He steps back and lets the guards step in front of him. Holding the shoe out to Raven. Raven sits down and holds out her foot. The guard tries to put the shoe on but it’s too small.

“Must have shrunk since last week.” Raven says with gritted teeth.

“It doesn’t fit Raven, now move over.” Cassandra pulls her sister out of the chair and sits down instead.

Gloating at the way Raven pouts. Once again the shoe is placed on Cassandra’s foot and once again it doesn’t fit. Logan holds back the urge to roll his eyes as Cassandra tries to fit her foot in through force.

“Thank you for your time.” He starts to leave but he’s stopped by your stepmother.

“Wait! My prince, I promise you the shoe belongs to one of my daughters.” She pulls the heel of the slipper out of her pocket. Logan’s eyes widen as he sees the familiar glass slipper.

“Where did you find this?” He demands.

“As I said before, it belongs to one of my daughters.” Logan doesn’t believe her for a second. He knows who he danced with and it wasn’t the two girls standing before him.

“My prince, listen!” One of the guards says. Your stepmother opens her mouth to protest but one look from Logan silences her. His ears strain to hear what the guard was talking about. There’s nothing but silence at first, but then he hears it. A soft hum of a familiar song. He knows that song, that’s the song he danced to at the ball.

“Where is she?” He growls, his polite front dropping in an instant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no one else here.” Your stepmother tries to argue but Logan pushes past her.

Running up the stairs to the attic. Stopping every now and then to hear you sing. At the very top of the stairs sits an old wooden door. Without thinking he slams his shoulder into it. The wood shakes and creaks under his force.

“Logan?” You ask in disbelief, your voice muffled through the wall.

“Stand back!” Logan says before ramming his shoulder against the door again. It splinters with ease. You stare in shock as Logan stands before you.

“It’s you.” He says breathlessly, uncaring of the dust and grime that now stains his perfect suit.

“You found me.” You whisper.

“I haven't stopped looking for you since the ball.” Logan walks over to you, striding across the room in need. His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you close.

“I have fallen madly in love with you.” He confesses.

You reach up and wrap your hands in his hair, pulling him in for the kiss you didn’t get to have in the gardens. His hands squeeze your waist softly as he groans into the kiss. You’re both desperate and passionate. Trying to speak a thousand words with only your lips.

“Do I finally get to know your name?” He asks with amusement. A smile on his face as he cups your face. You laugh and tell him. He repeats you, your name rolling off his tongue with ease.

“What a perfect name.” He hums, his thumb brushing your cheek softly. Logan takes a step back and drops to one knee, pulling out a gorgeous ring from his pocket.

“Marry me my love.” He holds out the ring and you feel your heart jump.

“Of course I will.” You cry. He places the ring on your finger and spins you around. You laugh with pure joy as he pulls you in for another kiss.

“Your stepmother is an awful woman.” He mumbles, if he could he’d kick them out of his kingdom for treating you like this. Locking you away like a prisoner in your own home.

The two of you hand in hand head back downstairs. All eyes are on you as Logan leads you through your house. The house that was once filled with happy memories of your parents, now tainted by years of abuse and cruelty from your stepmother. Logan stands at your side, blocking their view of you as you walk out the door.

“Wait! Please you can’t just leave us. I won’t allow it!” Your stepmother hisses as she follows you out the door.

The guards step forward but you call them off. Logan looks at you, silently asking if you’re sure and you nod. Reluctantly he lets go of your hand, letting you walk up to your step mother. You hold your head high, a feeling of complete freedom.

“You don’t control me anymore.” You stand tall, watching as your stepmother's face morphs through different emotions. Your whole body is shaking. But she can’t hurt you anymore, she doesn’t get to destroy your life. Logan laces his hand with yours and gently pulls you back to the royal carriage.

“Are you alright?” Logan asks as he sees the tears in your eyes. He reaches up and brushes the stray tears away.

“Yes Logan, I’m perfect.” 

In an instant your life changed. Your wedding was a grand affair. The whole town was thrilled to have a new princess and the celebration was amazing. Logan was a model prince, using his power and status to help the town orphanage so that all the children could live happy and comfortable lives. He wasn’t afraid to roll up his sleeves and work to help his kingdom.

After years of being locked away he was discovering what it meant to be free just like you were. The two of you were beloved. Praised for being kind, fair, and happy rulers. You spread kindness through everything the two of you did together. He’s everything to you and you are his whole world.

The view of the kingdom from your bedroom window was nothing short of breathtaking. You place birdseed on the window sill and a few birds fly up to the castle window. They chirp happily and you watch them with a smile on your face.

“What are you thinking about my love?” Logan asks as he wraps his arms around you from behind. His chin resting on your shoulder.

You look back at his handsome face, seeing the man you love with nothing but content on his face. He brought the light back into your life and it shines brighter than ever before. Then you look back at the kingdom, your kingdom. For once your heart does not ache watching from the window. Now you feel only love and peace.

“Nothing my prince, I’m just happy.” 

[del-thetiredwriter]

Twisted Wonderland/ Otome AU

Warning: not really dark themes? Mentioned. Gn reader. English is not my first language.

Notes: it’s been a really long time since. I was going to post this as soon as finishing translating this but my mid-term exams were came up so I couldn’t post anything. Anyway I hope you like this post. I will post Octavinelle part as soon as I finish the translation.

Summary: : One day, you opened your eyes and found yourself in Twisted Wonderland. And the task the System gave you is to get one of the lead characters love meter to 100% by the end of the main story and reach their happy ending.

Part 1

Leona Kingscholar

Lonely , grumpy savanaclaw's dorm leader, second prince Leona Kingscholar. I can't say that your first official meeting with Leona will be very good, and the same goes for the percentage of your love meter. First of all, good luck, your job is very difficult. However, after the overblot incident, your job will be a little easier.

Leona does not trust anyone due to his nature and experiences. He is sure that you are approaching him for a reason he has difficulty guessing. He will do his best not to get attached to you. After all you will also prefer someone else compared to Leoana , who has always been the other option throughout his life. So please stay by his side when he tells you to get lost, because deep down he loves being with you. I would also like to point out that being by his side will increase your love meter a lot as he runs away from you.

With Leona, it usually happens when he uses you as a pillow and sleeps (sometimes you swear he doesn't sleep). But you try not to talk too much in this activity, because the last time he bit you because you nagged about being late for class and your friends waiting for you while he was taking a nap . Afterwards he threatened to bite you again (not too harshly) and eat you. Although this unexpected event increased Leona's love meter considerably, you understood the warning that day very clearly. Sometimes you two would play chess. And usually, let's say, you are the loser. Leona loves the facial expressions you make when you are trying to figure out his next move or when you are cornered and lose. He also shows the privilege of being a prince in the later stages of your relationship, both materially and emotionally.

Now let's come to Leona in dark mode. Leona is a possessive lover by nature. Although it bothers him when you spend time with others, he respects you, but she can enter dark mode, especially depending on how he learns about your friendship with Malleus Draconia. In fact, Leona is also aware of the existence of the system. Not talking to him about this system stuff or following someone else's route along with his route can again put him in dark mode. Leona in dark mode is quite possessive. He wants everyone to know that you belong to him. He even leaves clues that others can understand without you noticing. Leona is very cunning and intelligent. He knows that brute force is not enough to possess you completely. He acts like a perfect lover in your relationship. He monopolizes you financially and emotionally . He introduces you to his family on holidays. Even if you don't realize it, these meetings are called engagement meetings in the press. Farena is ready to do anything for his only brother.

Ruggie Bucchi

Laid-back yet cunning, Savanaclaw second year student Ruggie Bucchi. Dear player who chose the Ruggie route, first of all, if you want to increase your love meter, I should mention that a portion of your income will go to buying donuts for this hyena boy. Please adjust your income with him in mind. Everything else aside, it won't be that hard to be friends with Ruggie, but it will take a long time for him to fully trust you and increase his love meter. However, once you exceed that limit, your love meter will increase continuously.

Your time with Ruggie is usually spent eating meals together or listening to him complain about Leona. Listening to him, giggling while he complains... oh, you are really too much for Ruggie... Also, watching him in club activities will increase your love meter quite a bit. Now, I may have said at the beginning that a portion of your income will go to this hyena boy, but that doesn't mean he does nothing. Although he doesn't get gifts very often, this hyena boy saves money to buy you gifts on special occasions. Even though he can't spoil you right now, he promises himself that he will spoil you as he wants in the future.

Now let's talk about Ruggie in dark mode...Ruggie knows he's not the best. After all, your environment is full of people who are smarter, more talented, richer, and more handsome than him. What kind of relationship you have with these people doesn't matter to Ruggie in dark mode, what matters is that Ruggie is inadequate to them in many ways and that you might leave him because of his inadequacy. What if you find someone who can spoil you as you want? Someone who can give you the life you deserve...

At first, you don't notice anything, but the "suspicious accidents" that people around you experience make you realize what's going on quickly. Ruggie doesn't use his unique spell on you, meaning he doesn't use it to a certain extent, but this doesn't apply to others. I think you can get help from Leona when you start to suspect him.

If you don't put him in normal mode before it's too late, he won't hesitate to use his unique spell on you. Ruggie's only wish is to live a happy life with you, even if that means he has to make you his puppet...

Jack Howl

Looks tough on the outside but is actually quite caring, first-year Savaclaw student Jack Howl. Your love meter increases little by little after you meet Jack. This wolf boy really respects you a lot. After all, it is really respectable that you, who is non-magical and from another universe, can deal with so many things. Your friendship will progress in a short time with the right steps.

In your free time, you usually do sports together, forced by Jack. If you are not used to sports, I wish you luck. It will be quite difficult to keep up with Jack, but don't worry, there will be short breaks and motivational speeches and cheers from Jack that he thinks are motivating in his own way. This wolf boy does most of what you want, even if he doesn't want to show it. Even if he doesn't like it. Do you want to play with his wolf form? Okay, but only for 5 minutes. Do you want to stroke his tail? Okay, but don't take too long. Do you want to go shopping with him? Okay, but don't expect too much comment from him. Because when he asked you what you thought about the last outfit you tried on, he praised you in his own way and the store employees looked at you strangely. Even though Jack supports and praises you in everything, his praise can be a bit strange. Also, when you cheer for him or compliment him, don't be fooled even if he tells you that it’s unnecessary or that you're wrong. His tail shows how much he likes it. Jack may lie to you but his tail never does.

Jack has always respected your boundaries and still does. Even though his inner wolf side has completely different thoughts, he manages to control himself. However, if that dark wolf side of his loses control… oh boy. He changes from a gentlemanly man to a possessive, jealous, restrictive person. He questions everything you do. Why were you talking to that boy? Who is he? This can also lead to fights. If you can't get him to normal mode without his love meter going too high, it will debatable whether you'll get a very happy ending.

[brawberryz]

Goodbye World

BatFam Yan! × Neglected Magic Girl! Reader 《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Pt: 2

"(NAME), PLEASE DON'T GO!"

the girl screamed trying to stop her, this couldn't be happening, this shouldn't have happened, I was supposed to have more time but your transformation accelerated

"I'm sorry, ######, but there's no time left... sorry"

"Please (Name)!, don't go..."

The girl felt tears falling from her face, she was supposed to save you but she made the same mistake again...

"Goodbye"

You gave her one last smile before falling to the ground and your body began to deform

"(NAMEE)!"

The girl screamed for the last time before your vision went dark, there was no more pain or suffering, you felt like your body was deformed but you couldn't feel or do anything it was like you only had your conscience left

The original (name) had disappeared forever, and there was nothing else to do

Or well, maybe there was something they could do

_

Bruce was sitting in front of the batcomputer trying to find any trace of you, but there was nothing, not even a trace, it was like you had vanished in the wind

He felt too bad since your last interaction with you, if he had known what would happen he would never have let you go from that hug

But it's just "would have" it was too late to regret but he could still fix things, he would find you and take you home with everyone else and finally have the family you always dreamed of

"We found nothing, not a single clue"

Richard entered the batcave feeling defeated Again, he went out with the whole family to look for some clue but there was nothing, they even tried to see if some villain had you kidnapped but there was no one who knew about you

"This is shit"

Jason said angrily while leaning against a wall, as much as he didn't want to admit it in a way it was his fault he always treated you badly and insulted you

You had too many reasons to leave the mansion and hate all of them, but if he was honest he hated the feeling that you had left, you are supposed to be a family and you should stay together

Wherever you are they will find you and when they do they will never let you escape from their hands again

"And Tim?"

Bruce asked without taking his eyes off the Batcomputer, he hated feeling like he couldn't be in control, not having control over you, like he always had

"He decided to stay a little longer to patrol and see if he found something"

Jason said putting his hands in his jacket pockets, wherever you are he just hoped you were okay although knowing how Gotham is, it would be a miracle if you were okay without a single scratch

"I'm leaving here"

Damian spoke as he walked angrily out of the batcave, a part of him was angry with you and with himself, he was angry with you because you abandoned him without even saying goodbye or giving him reasons, you decided to hide and not tell anyone

He hated having things hidden from him, and at the same time he was angry with himself for how he treated you in the past, but he had changed he swears! When you get back to the mansion she'll be the best sister you've ever seen

"Damian, wait-"

Richard tries to stop him but Damian just pushes him out of his way before yelling at him

"SHUT UP, I don't plan on staying here even a minute longer.(Name) is lost somewhere in this stupid city and all we do is stay here like idiots"

Damian said angrily as he quickly left the batcave

Richard just sighed, when Damian had something in mind there was nothing that would stop him from reaching it, not even his own family

_

Damian walked angrily down the hallway of the mansion cursing under his breath

He continued walking until a door caught his attention, it was half open and he could barely see the small light coming out

Curious, he decided to open it, he was surprised when he realized it was your room...

It was small but still well decorated, it bothered him a little that your room was so far away from the others

He didn't want to invade your privacy (if he wanted to) but the curiosity about your things was too great, he began looking in your drawers but only found unfinished crafts or clothes

It seemed strange to him that all your clothes were still in their place, if the theory that you ran away was true you should have brought some clothes, but everything was completely in order

As he continued looking he found a photo album, it seemed old since it had some dust

He removed the dust that it had and decided to open it, there was almost nothing interesting just photos of you, some from when you were little and others from your birthdays

But there was one that caught his attention, you were in a park with a girl, it seemed to him It was strange that you had left since you never left the mansion

He was also very bothered by the approach that girl had with (name), who did she think she was to touch her sister like that?

But if he was honest, in that photo you really looked happy...

You didn't have that forced happiness like in all the photos, in this one it was seen that you really felt happy with that strange girl

He put aside the album and went back to searching through your things to see if he could find something else

Some of your drawers were full of board games full of dust, he remembered that once you asked him to play one with you but he simply ignored you and said that you had time for children's games

A soft voice took him out of his thoughts

"What are you doing in (name)'s room?"

Cassadran asked, looking at Damian with doubt. She thought it was strange that he was in your room since she thought she was the only one besides Alfred who knew your room.

"Something that doesn't matter to you."

Damian answered abruptly as he continued searching through your drawers.

"You seem too worried about her to be going through her things without permission."

Cassadran spoke again. She thought it was strange that none of the family members were around the house, but she didn't pay much attention and decided to go to your room to greet you. But she was surprised when she found Damian searching through your things.

"So what? It doesn't matter now that (name) is missing. I don't think it will bother her. Besides, it's for research purposes."

Damian was getting tired of Cass's insistence, because out of nowhere he is so worried about his privacy. Were you two close?

"Missing?"

Cassadran repeated in surprise, that answer hit Cass hard, she never imagined it would really happen, were you able to leave the mansion? Although if she was honest you had reasons to leave this fucking place

"Yes, my sister is missing and apparently I'm the only one who cares about her and tries to find some clue, so go away you're just bothering me"

Damian let out a snort of annoyance before resuming his search through your things

"She's your sister now?"

That answer took Damian by surprise, what the hell was she referring to

"What..."

"She's your sister now?" Cass repeated again before speaking again "you always left her aside, well, everyone left them aside and I include myself but it seems hypocritical to me that you want to blame others when you are also guilty, you always look to blame others for your problems because you are an egocentric and selfish person who only thinks about himself, you don't care about her you just want to have a reason not to feel bad about yourself"

Those words left Damian speechless, he hated to admit it but she was right although he would never admit it out loud

He simply looked away and focused on continuing to search pretending as if Cassandra's words hadn't mattered to him

Cass turned around and left the room before giving Damian one last look

Deep down she hoped you were okay wherever you were, but if you were truly lost she was going to do whatever it took to find you, she wasn't going to allow herself to lose another important thing for her, not anymore

_

Tim was jumping from building to building trying to find some clue about you, but there was nothing. He had been investigating criminals, villains or gangs all night but no one knew anything about you.

At this point the guilt was drowning him, he felt like the worst brother in the world. How could he forget someone so important?

Most likely you are now in some dangerous place, alone and scared thinking that no one will go looking for you because you are not important enough for them.

But he will do everything possible to find you, I promise.

He decided to stop at the top of a tall building so he could rest. He felt the worst. He had been patrolling all over Gotham for more than 4 hours but had found nothing. At this point he felt like he would never find you. No...no, if he found you he should not lose hope. You were somewhere in this place...he just had to find out where.

He felt something fast approaching him. Before he could react correctly and dodge it, a supernatural force ended up throwing him against the fire escape of another building.

Shit... that hurt, he was sure he broke his back or some rib, that thing that pushed him had too much force, it was clear that it was not a criminal or villain, they were too fast and strong to be one

But before he could get up he saw how a black mass with a strange figure approached quickly

It was easily the size of a damn bus or bigger, whatever it was was not human, that black mass reminded him too much of someone, he felt that he knew that figure from somewhere

But before he could think that large figure ended up hitting him again

It seemed as if that thing had something personal with him like some kind of hatred or resentment

Tim tried with all his strength to recover from that last blow, he had to warn the others about this thing and to come quickly before this strange creature taken from a horror story finished him off

With his last strength he grabbed the communicator and sent a signal for help before that thing hit him again now with more force causing his body to hit a wall

It seems you already have your first victim in your hands, you were going to finish off all those who made you feel miserable and you were going to make them feel the same pain that they made you feel

The original (name) had already died, the only thing left was this creature full of resentment and hatred

You were going to destroy every person who stood in your way and if that meant having to destroy the city or the world you were going to do it

"MADOKA PLEASE DON'T GO" aahhh reference 😭🙏💀

Sorry if it's too short or something, I hope you enjoy this shitty chapter

You can leave me questions or anything about this AU, I'll be happy to answer them🙏

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

Platonic Yandere!Batfam x Weird black neglected!reader

You're a little bit weird—well, not just a little bit, but you're normal compared to your "family," those weirdos running around in masked costumes beating up the mentally ill. At least you have hobbies that don't endanger the public, like spending your time on the Internet spreading misinformation and having online arguments. You enjoy Discord calls with your friends and trolling Discord mods. It's just too fun! Plus, with the Batcomputer, you can dox almost anyone in the country. You spend most of your time in your room; there's no need for family bonding when you have your anime husbands to keep you happy. You're like an enigma in the house; you only appear when your stomach growls and when you need a proper meal that doesn't contain Dr. Pepper and spicy chips that might burn your insides. Your interests go from niche to unknown fandoms—so small that the author lets your self-insert become an actual character. Trickets and buttons from all types of fandoms decorate your bag like a museum. Thank God for Bruce Wayne's money; you wouldn't have half the merch you have now. But at school, you're also unknown—just the weird, geeky kids who hang out with other weird, geeky kids in your small circle of friends. You remember once you tried to invite Damian into the group because you knew he liked manga back when you were hopeful and naive. The little gremlin denied it and called them "childish." He literally reads shoujos, and this was the day you were going to introduce him to Cardcaptor Sakura—that little hater. But ever since then, you have kept your distance. Your brother Tim had the same interest; you tried to bond over My Hero, showing off a plush, only for him to tell you, "That show was mid," and it made you buckle to your knees. You tried to bond over books with Jason; he told you to read real books and that comics were for kids. You wanted to strangle his thick neck. Dick just didn't know anything about anything—he's too old. The girls just didn't care much. Barbara told you to grow up, and Stephanie gave you that. "Wow, that's really cool..." smile. You knew she didn't care, and Cass would rather train than hear you ramble about power ranger crossovers, but then again, how could you relate to them there superheros, And you're just one weirdo it makes you want to rip out your dreads and scream. You try so hard, but you're still an afterthought, just another body in the house and another mouth to feed. At least you can vent about it in your Discord servers or cry about while listening to vocaloid, maybe some Mitski for extra kick. But who were they anyway? You were way too cool for them, and they just don't understand your swagger. But maybe the people at the galas will appreciate your interests; then again, you'd rather not talk to old, rich, white people with laughs that cost 500,000 dollars and 20 cents.

[thegreatstoryteller]

Female to Male Fridays!

The Great Shift: Meeting the Parents

“Are you sure you’re ok with this? We can still head home.” Jenny muttered. Clearly a bit nervous staring down at her boyfriend.

“Babe. It’s been almost a year since the Great Shift. I told you. Just because I’m unshifted, doesn’t mean I don’t want to meet your parents.” Youseff said smiling.

Jen and Youseff had met in their freshman year of college and immediately became close. They joined similar clubs, volunteered at the same food banks, and eventually friendship blossomed into romance one fateful summer night! The couple knew nothing could get between them and the love that they found… and a few years later that included the Great Shift. While Youseff remained unshifted, Jen Shale wasn’t so lucky.

They had agreed to meet at her sorority when the craziness of the Shift happened. Youseff was more than a bit surprised to find a larger older man in his 40s sitting nervously on Jen’s bed waiting for him! Since then many revelations have been shared with the couple. The first was Youseff coming out to his girlfriend as bi! He never had the courage to say it before and didn’t know how to share that part of his life with his girlfriend, but the shift offered a unique chance that worked out well with the couple. Two. Jen realized she was in a sports medicine professor who was quite in shape! He apparently was father to three student athletes on campus… and luckily her feelings for her boyfriend hadn’t wavered from the shift. A fact that they both enjoyed learning the first week of the Great Shift. Eventually the two became more comfortable with each other even buying a pair of matching pajamas!

It took quite some time for the world to get back in order. During that entire time communications were able to be set up with most families. Youseff’s family had many linear shifts, a term used by most of the world when your shift put you into someone very similar to your original body. His dad was a man his own age. His mother was a woman a few years younger than her. The only difference was his younger brother who now keeps telling Youseff to call him the bigger brother when he shifted into a former professional athlete. 

Jen’s family… was another story.

“And that brings us to today. Jen. I’m serious. I want to meet them. I know you’ve talked to them, but I haven’t. And when they invited us over for the holidays I thought it’d be the best chance to get to know them.” Youseff said hopefully, placing a hand against Jen’s cheek and training the thick salt and pepper stubble that was ever present no matter how close she shaved.

“I know- I know… but I told you before the shift that they were a bit much… and, well, now since the shift… they are still that! I guess… just… more…” Jen muttered nervously. A feat she seemed to still master despite her new commanding baritone. 

“They can’t be that bad.” Youseff said before knocking. And that’s when they heard heavy steps approaching the door.  

A handsome muscular man answered the door! He wore long pink dishwashing gloves and an apron! Aside from that he seemed to be wearing nothing else. The small potted flower he held seemed to be thriving!

“You must be Youseff! Jen has told us so much about you! Come in! Come in! I was just washing some dishes and watering the kitchen plants! We’re so glad to meet you. You can call me Margot! I’m Jen’s mother, or rather her second father!” Margot laughed. The man before them had a deep voice and almost a bro like tone. The motherly introduction he gave at odds with his gym bro form. 

“You must be hungry! I’ve been making lots of food these days. This young man I became had quite the appetite. And who could blame him. I’ve felt the urge to go to the gym almost every day of the week! Anyway, I just keep blabbering away! Have a mini quiche!” Margot led them to the living room where a small plate of appetizers awaited them.

“Wow, these are amazing Margot!” Youseff said digging in. I always wondered where Jen got her amazing cooking skills from.

“Awww! Jen! You didn’t mention your man was a little charmer.” Margot giggled as Jen blushed. 

“Mooom! Stop! You’re embarrassing me!” Jen complained burying her fuzzy face in her large hands. Her mom was always like this. If it wasn’t telling embarrassing stories about Jen, it was finding an excuse to show off her body. Ever since Margot got her new body she had been more than happy to show it off. She would say, “Well this young man clearly wanted to show off his muscles, who am I to cover them up!”. So bouncing around the house in her classic apron was just the way she dressed these days.

“Shush Jen. My little girl will never be too old for a little humor. Just because you have more grays on that head of yours than your father did pre shift, doesn’t mean you can’t laugh a little.” Margot teased.

“Speaking of where is Mr. Shale? Youseff asked.

“Well he’s always in the garage these days. When he got that 20 year old gymnast’s body, he’d become obsessed with the sport! I’ve got some biscuits to take out of the oven. You two should check on him.” Margot offered.

“Anything to get out of this conversation.” Jen groaned pulling Youseff towards the side of their home. As they opened the door to the garage they could see a handsome black man flexing in the mirror, wearing a tight singlet. The chalk on his hands implying a recent gymnastics routine.

“Jen! There’s my little girl turned big man!” Her dad said cutting his flexing short and heading towards Jen. Mr. Shale now was the shortest one in the family at 5’1. With his daughter at 6’0 and his wife at 5’10, the household tended to tower over him. However, he was more than happy with his new body.

“Hey dad, enjoying your gymnastics or whatever?” Jen half heartedly asked.

“Yes I am! I tell ya, being a few decades younger is great! Sure beats my beer belly and sore ankles. A 20 year old body like this is flexible. You can ask your mother if you don’t believe me.” Mr. Shale winked.

“Dad! Oh my gosh! NO! I brought Youseff here! Please don’t gross him out.” Jen screamed.

“Oh so this is the young man that’s caught my daughter’s eye. You can address me as Mr. Shale or sir. DO I make myself clear?”  Mr. Shale looked up at Youseff who just nodded. Despite the size difference between them Youseff was clearly intimidated by his dad-like tone. 

“Yes sir!”

“Good man. I guess I have you to thank for helping our dear Jen finally get some more manly clothes? For some reason she didn’t want my help with a new wardrobe.” Mr. Shale shook his head disappointed.

“Yeah! We actually had a lot of fun going to the store and finding clothes that fit. The toughest part was finding shoes in her new size.” Youseff conceded.

“Youseff!” Jen blushed. She knew it was true. With her larger feet, she realized just how difficult it was to find footwear that fit. The largest most places went up to was size 15. Her now size 18 feet were tough to find anywhere!

“Sorry babe, but it’s true. Plus you said you had a great time shopping. Like old times, remember? You said that you weren’t sure we’d find a single pair, but when we went to the Big and Tall store, they had a few shoes your size! Even sandals!” Youseff explained.

Jen just shook as her dad applauded Youseff’s resourcefulness!

Before long the family was finally all together to share a meal! Jen’s parents were loving her boyfriend, though he could see that she was clearly embarrassed throughout the whole dinner.

By the time they left Youseff was driving them back to their apartment, where he asked. “Jen? Are you alright? I… I’m guessing that night wasn’t the most pleasant for you?”

Jen just nodded and hugged her boyfriend. Her broad frame embracing him with a tight squeeze. “My parents just take a lot out of me. Before the shift they were overbearing in a different way and now… well now they are always just so comfortable in their new bodies! My mom started going to the gym almost every day with her old book club. Each of them became some kind of fitness influencer. And my dad! He won’t stop telling me how proud he is to have a son now and that I need to start acting more manly. I don’t get how they can be so well adjusted to all this! I… I thought I was getting there. With you… being this kind of man feels easy. Even more exciting at times too.”

“I do love your mustache.” Youseff noted, causing Jen to giggle.

“See. It’s stuff like that. You always make me feel like your partner… and… I guess I need more time before I start feeling like a member of my own family again and not some older hairy guy.” Jen admitted.

Youseff kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry I insisted we meet them so soon. I was so ready to take our relationship further and I was so nervous to meet them. But I forgot to consider how you were feeling about your parents. From now on, we can just focus on us.”

“I like that plan.” Jen smiled kissing back.

“Good. Maybe we can start with a pedicure tomorrow. I know you’ve been itching to try that out with your big new feet.” Youseff teased.

“Ha! These big new feet would love to get a pedicure. Maybe a foot massage later too!” Jen smiled, wiggling her big toes. When she was with Youseff she realized, maybe she could get used to this big body.

[littlelamy]

hey queen was wondering if you could do an angsty rafe fic don’t care what the topic is just need my soul to be crushed tbh…

anyway love your work😛😛

lamy's note: thank you bby!! i hope i did it justice! 💗

the evening clung to the air, heavy and suffocating like a storm waiting to break. you stepped into the mansion, your heels clicking against the marble floors, echoing in the quiet stillness of tan lines and rosegold hues. everything about tonight felt off. rafe’s texts had been sporadic, distracted. but you’d convinced yourself it was just his usual mood swings—the volatility that came with his name, his family, his demons.

“just come over,” he’d said earlier, voice low like he was speaking through gritted teeth. you’d asked if everything was okay, but the curt reply and abrupt end to the call told you everything you needed to know. he was pissed about something. probably ward. maybe topper. or… maybe you.

anxiety gnawed at the edge of your thoughts, a sharp-toothed beast sinking into your resolve. still, you went. because it’s rafe. and you’ve never been able to stop yourself when it comes to him. his pull was magnetic, a gravity you couldn’t escape no matter how much it burned.

but as you approached the living room, your heart sank. voices. hers.

sofía.

your pulse quickened, thundering in your ears. you knew sofía had been hanging around more. her smile always too sweet, her touch lingering a second too long when she’d brush rafe’s arm at parties. you’d pretended not to notice. pretended to trust him. because rafe promised you, over and over again, that he was yours.

but now, as you turned the corner, you saw it.

rafe’s back was to you, broad shoulders taut under the strain of whatever this was. sofía stood inches from him, her hand on his chest, and before you could even process what was happening, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his.

for a moment, it felt like time stopped. your lungs seized, your vision blurred. the room tilted like you’d just stepped off a spinning carnival ride, nausea and disbelief crashing into you all at once.

“rafe,” you choked out, voice cracking under the weight of betrayal.

his head snapped up, his blue eyes wide with shock. “baby, it’s not—”

“this isn’t what it looks like!” sofía interrupted, a perfect picture of feigned innocence, but you saw the glint in her eye, the slight curl of her lips. she wanted this. she wanted you to see.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you spat, glaring at her. your hands were trembling now, the fight-or-flight adrenaline coursing through you making every nerve hum with raw energy. “are you seriously trying to act like i didn’t just see you?”

sofía shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. her expression was maddeningly calm, like she was toying with a piece of prey. “he didn’t kiss me back,” she said smoothly, like that somehow made it better.

“get the fuck out,” rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous. the venom in his tone made even sofía hesitate for a split second before she gave a mocking smile and sauntered out of the room, hips swaying like she’d won.

silence hung between you like a blade, sharp and ready to sever whatever fragile thread was left.

“you’re unbelievable,” you finally said, your voice trembling, barely containing the torrent of emotions surging within. “she’s been throwing herself at you for weeks and you just… what? let her?”

“no!” rafe took a step toward you, his face a mess of desperation and guilt, but you recoiled, and it hit him like a slap. “baby, i swear to god, i didn’t—i wouldn’t. she kissed me, i didn’t even—”

“but you didn’t stop her.”

he froze, his jaw tightening as your words landed. “what?”

“you didn’t fucking stop her, rafe.” your voice cracked, the dam breaking as tears spilled over despite your best effort to keep them at bay. “how am i supposed to believe you when you just stood there?”

“baby, please.” his voice broke, raw and pleading. he reached for you again, his hands trembling now, but you stepped back, shaking your head. the distance between you felt insurmountable.

“i trusted you,” you whispered, the words bitter on your tongue. “i fucking trusted you.”

“and you still can,” he insisted, his voice rising with desperation, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you’re it for me. you’re the only one, i swear. she’s nothing, okay? she’s fucking nothing.”

“but i’m supposed to just ignore what i saw?” your voice rose too, the pain clawing its way out of your chest, demanding to be heard. “how many times do i have to wonder if i’m enough for you, rafe? if you even fucking want me?”

“you are,” he said fiercely, the raw intensity of his words cutting through the tension. he stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until you were backed against the wall. his hand cupped your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “you’re everything. i need you to believe me.”

you shook your head, fresh tears spilling over, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “i don’t know if i can.”

his hand dropped, his expression crumpling as the weight of your words crushed him. “don’t say that,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. “don’t fucking say that.”

“then prove it,” you said, your voice trembling but firm, the storm inside you raging. “prove to me that i’m not wasting my time loving you.”

his eyes searched yours, frantic, his chest rising and falling as he tried to find the words. and for the first time, you saw it. fear. raw, unfiltered fear. because he knew. he knew he was on the verge of losing you, and for once in his life, rafe cameron didn’t have a plan to fix it.

and the worst part? you weren’t sure you wanted him to.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (1/???)

Here I aaam! Remembering that the posts will be every Saturday.

So, enjoy it!

*I'm a little drunk rigth now, so, I'm sorry if you find mistakes*

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: A serie of events makes you fall into the good graces of two older women.

Hey! I've a masterlist

Fascination

You wake up to the first rays of sunlight slipping through the gaps in the curtains. Your bedroom is small, just 23 square meters, but it’s the only space in the world you can truly call your own. A study desk pushed against the wall, shelves crammed with books and notebooks filled to the last page, and plants scattered in every corner—ferns, succulents, and a small cactus that stubbornly clings to life even when you forget to water it.

After stretching, you get up and head straight to the window, where your plants greet the day. You talk to them in a soft tone as you mist them, almost as if expecting a reply. “You look beautiful today. I promise I won’t forget you again.”

Lucky, your overly talkative black cat, meows at your feet. He wants nothing but your attention, and you oblige, stroking his head with a tired smile. “Good morning, Lucky. Seems like you’ve got a lot to say, huh?” He meows back, and you laugh.

In the comfortable silence of the morning, your mind drifts, as it often does, to the past. You grew up in the suburbs, in a small house that was always full. Your father did his best to raise you and your five older siblings, but there was a gap that was never filled: your mother. She left when you were just a child, and though no one in the family spoke openly about it, her absence was a constant shadow in your life.

You remember the nights when your older siblings would laugh and argue in the living room, while you, the youngest, hid in a corner with a book or a notebook. Writing was your escape, your way of creating a world where you had control, where mothers didn’t leave and bad things always had a solution.

She left when you were little, leaving behind you, your five older siblings, and a father who never knew how to handle her absence. You remember the nights when the silence of the house was broken by questions no one dared to ask. Why did she leave? Was it us? Was it me?

No matter how hard he tried, your father couldn’t fill the void she left behind. He worked all day, came home exhausted, and did his best to keep the house running, but affection and kind words were never his strong suit.

“You’re strong. You don’t need to cry over this,” he’d say every time tears threatened to spill. Gradually, you learned to swallow your tears and convince yourself that you needed to be strong, even when everything inside you wanted to collapse.

Her absence shaped much of who you are today, though not in a way you like to admit. It’s hard to look in the mirror and not feel... inadequate. You wonder if she left because you weren’t good enough, because you weren’t good enough.

These thoughts are like shadows that appear at the most unexpected times, especially when you try to open up to someone. Intimacy is terrifying. You fear that if people truly know you, they’ll abandon you, just like she did.

In school, this made you shy and reserved. You always felt like a puzzle with a missing piece, unable to fit in. Your siblings tried to shield you from the worst, but they had their own battles to fight.

You were the youngest, the “baby” of the house, and yet you never had the chance to be treated as such. While they laughed and argued, you hid in your room, writing stories that transported you to worlds where mothers didn’t abandon their daughters.

This absence also gave you a fierce determination. You promised yourself that if no one was there to take care of you, then you would take care of yourself. You studied late into the night, devouring books on screenwriting and filmmaking from the public library.

When the college acceptance letter arrived, it felt like the world had paused for a moment. You’d made it. The first in your family to set foot on a university campus. Despite the pride, the insecurity is always there, lurking. The fear of not being good enough, of failing, of being discarded. You work hard because you feel you have something to prove, even if no one asked you to.

The sound of the bell above the door announces another day of work at the small café. You walk in, adjusting your apron with a resigned sigh. The air smells comforting, like fresh coffee, but the weight of the shift ahead is always present. You do everything there: serve tables, clean counters, even organize the stock. Your boss is an unpleasant man, known for his sexist jokes and invasive behavior. But you need the money, so you swallow your anger and keep going.

América, your coworker, is the opposite of you. Rebellious and fearless, she confronts the boss without hesitation, even knowing it could cost her the job. You make an unlikely team, but somehow it works.

As you wipe down the counter, you hear the sharp click of heels echoing through the café. The sound has a weight to it, cutting through the usual hum of the room. A barely perceptible pause spreads through the space, as if the air itself had been suspended for a second. It’s not just curiosity—it’s reverence.

Your gaze lifts almost instinctively, and it’s impossible not to notice the woman who just walked in. Tall, with perfectly styled dark hair and a black blazer that looks tailor-made, she exudes power. But it’s more than that. There’s something in the way her eyes sweep the room—a sharp coldness, as if she could dissect everyone there with just a glance. And people notice her. Some whisper her name, others try not to stare too long.

You swallow hard, trying not to seem intimidated. But when her eyes finally land on you, it’s as if the world around you has disappeared. She doesn’t look away, and the intensity of that moment makes your stomach churn. For a split second, it feels like she knows exactly who you are—all your fears, insecurities, and dreams laid bare before her.

Summoning what little courage you have left, you adjust your apron and force a smile you’ve practiced hundreds of times. “Good morning, what can I get for you today?” Your voice sounds calm, but your heart is racing.

The woman continues to stare at you, silent. Her dark eyes analyze every detail: the slightly worn apron, your hands gripping the notepad too tightly, even the stray strand of hair that escaped your bun. It’s unsettling, as if she’s assessing every tiny aspect of your existence.

“A caramel latte... and a black coffee. No sugar. To go.” Her voice finally breaks the silence. It’s low, gravelly, like distant thunder, and carries a strange familiarity—as if she’s used to being obeyed without question.

You nod, trying to stay professional. But as you prepare the orders, you feel her eyes on you, watching every move. The weight of her gaze is almost unbearable, like a test you didn’t know you were being forced to take. Your hands start to tremble, and an anxious heat spreads through your body. The feeling of being judged grows.

When you turn to hand over the drinks, the tension in your muscles is so tight that your hands falter. Before you realize it, the hot coffee cup slips, spilling the brown liquid all over the woman’s immaculate white blouse. The sound of the cup hitting the counter is muffled by the low, controlled sound of frustration that escapes her lips—not a scream, but a deep, restrained noise.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, your voice trembling. Grabbing napkins in a panic, you lean in to clean up the mess but freeze when you see the stain spreading across the expensive fabric.

The murmur in the café grows louder. Someone lets out an audible sigh, while another mutters something about “the mighty Rio” being treated so carelessly. The name hangs in the air, and only then does it fully hit you.

You knew she seemed powerful, but you hadn’t realized you were standing in front of Rio Vidal—one of the world’s most renowned visual artists. Like her wife, Agatha Harkness, she’s an icon. Together, they’re one of the few openly gay couples to dominate and be celebrated by the industry. Her fame precedes her, and now you’ve just spilled coffee on her.

The woman doesn’t say anything immediately, but her eyes—once analytical—now seem to pierce through you. There’s something terrifyingly calm about the way she looks at you, as if she’s deciding how much of a reaction you’re worth.

Before you can stammer out more apologies, your boss’s voice cuts through the air. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he shouts, his anger exploding. “How can you be so clumsy? A client of this caliber, and you do this?! I should fire you right now!”

The embarrassment spreads through you like the coffee on her blouse. Your eyes well up as you try to explain, but the words won’t come. All you can do is look at the woman, hoping she’ll say something—anything.

She, however, doesn’t even glance at your boss. Her eyes remain fixed on you, as if he doesn’t exist. Finally, she breaks the silence with a low, sharp voice: “That really isn’t necessary.”

Your boss stammers, surprised. “But, ma’am, she—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Her gaze silences him, and for the first time, you see a man who thrives on authority shrink back.

You try to catch your breath, your face burning with shame. With a thread of courage, you murmur, “Please, come with me. I—I can fix this.” Your voice falters, but there’s something in your insistence that makes her tilt her head slightly, as if weighing your determination before nodding.

In the restroom, the silence between you is heavy but not empty. You grab the spare blouse you always carry and try to gather your thoughts, but when you turn around, the air seems to leave your lungs.

The woman unbuttons her blazer with precise movements, and when she removes the stained shirt, she reveals a black silk blouse so delicate that the light highlights the curves of her collarbone and the edges of her lace bra.

Your gaze involuntarily drifts to her shoulder, where the skin reddened by the coffee looks almost fragile. The sight is intimate in a way you weren’t prepared for, and your face burns.

“I... I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have...” you begin, but your voice falters. Your mind is torn between the embarrassment of the accident and the hypnotic presence of her, which seems to fill the small space of the restroom.

“Do you always get this nervous?” Her question is unexpected, her voice low and laden with something you can’t decipher. It’s almost a challenge, a test, and her gaze remains fixed on you, as if expecting more than a simple answer.

“I... I don’t know. Maybe?” You look away, shrinking slightly as you hand her the clean blouse. It’s cheap fabric but carries the faint scent of your homemade perfume. When her fingers brush against yours as she takes it, a shiver runs down your skin, quick and unexpected.

She puts on the blouse slowly, unhurried, and her words follow like an echo: “You shouldn’t apologize so much. Especially when you don’t know what for.” The statement is intriguing, almost disconcerting. Your heart races, as if you’ve just stumbled upon something you don’t fully understand.

Before she leaves, you blurt out, the words tumbling out in one breath: “Please... let me wash your blouse. I want... I need to make it up to you.”

She pauses at the door and turns, her eyes locking onto yours once more. There’s something different now, a genuine interest, almost calculated.

Without a word, she pulls a black card from her pocket, elegant and scented with a faint woody aroma. “When it’s ready, come to this address.” Her voice is low but layered with meaning you can’t interpret.

She leaves before you can respond, her posture impeccable and her steps controlled, as if every movement were rehearsed. You’re left alone in the restroom, holding the card that feels heavier than it should.

Rio Vidal.

The name echoes in your mind. A short, strong name, as enigmatic as she is. And for some reason you can’t explain, you feel like you’ve just opened a door to something that will change your life in ways even the worst coffee spills couldn’t predict.

A few minutes later, you gather enough courage to leave the restroom. Your heart is still pounding in your chest, as if trying to remind you of the disaster that just happened.

You find your boss standing near the counter, wearing the same disdainful look that always makes your skin crawl. But something is different today. He doesn’t explode into shouts as you expected.

“Rio Vidal. The Rio Vidal—” He crosses his arms and sighs, as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say, “—said it was fine. And she was very clear that you shouldn’t be punished.”

You blink, confused. The black card in your hand feels heavier now. Why would she do that? Was it pity? Some kind of veiled charity because of your desperation? Or... something more?

The woody scent of the card wafts up to you, a tangible reminder of the woman who, even with coffee spilled on her expensive blouse, had remained impassive and enigmatic.

“Get back to work before I change my mind,” your boss grumbles, but his tone has lost its usual edge. You don’t argue, just tuck the card into your pocket, still feeling every embossed letter like a secret waiting to be unraveled.

[...]

You practically run to the university. Your legs ache, but it doesn’t matter because today is important. When you finally reach the worn-down building that houses the film department, you can barely catch your breath. The room is packed with anxious students, and excited whispers fill the air.

“You’re almost late!” Darcy whispers, pushing a notebook aside to make room for you. Her eyes are wide, nervous. “Agatha Harkness is already here.”

Her name makes your heart race, in a completely different way from the panic you felt before.

Agatha Harkness.

The legend. The queen. The woman who made actors cry on set and screenwriters question if they were good enough to write even a single line of dialogue. She was a monster… but undeniably a genius. Everything that came from her hands was masterful, and you secretly harbored an absurd admiration for her.

Peter, sitting in front of you, whispers to Darcy, “Do you think she’s going to rip someone’s heart out today? She did that the last time she visited a university…”

Darcy, next to him, makes a face. “On the first day?”

“Without a doubt,” Peter replies, shrugging.

Before you can respond, the door swings open. The sound of her heels is the first thing that fills the sudden silence. And then she enters.

Agatha is everything you imagined and more. Tall, dressed in an impeccable purple suit that seems to radiate authority, with a smile that borders on cruel and eyes that scan the room as if evaluating every soul present. Her presence is a punch to the stomach, yet at the same time, something in you feels magnetized by her. It’s impossible to look away.

She wastes no time with warm introductions. Instead, she tosses a stack of papers onto the desk and begins speaking. Her voice is deep, firm, and filled with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

“Writing is an act of courage. And from what I’ve heard, many of you have been content with mediocrity.”

The students exchange nervous glances. Darcy practically sinks into her chair beside you. You, on the other hand, feel your heart race even more. There’s something hypnotic about the way she speaks, as if every word is carefully sharpened to cut.

“Now, here’s what you’re going to do.” Agatha steps up to the blackboard and writes something with an elegant pen. “Write a scene. Any scene. But make it something worth reading. Because if I think you’re wasting my time…” She lifts her gaze, and the silence that follows is more threatening than any word. “—your nonexistent careers won’t even start.”

Agatha picks up the first stack of papers and starts reading in silence, her eyes moving rapidly from side to side. The room is absolutely silent, so quiet that the sound of students breathing feels deafening.

After a few seconds, she lets out an almost exasperated sigh and lifts a paper, holding it up as if it were evidence of a terrible crime.

“Who wrote this?”

A girl in the back of the room timidly raises her hand, almost regretting existing.

Agatha narrows her eyes at the paper, then at the girl. “Is this a love story?”

The girl shakes her head, mumbling something about the plot being deeper than it seemed.

“No. It’s not.” Agatha cuts in, her voice as cold as steel. “This is a cheap fanfic disguised as a script. Characters with no substance, dialogues recycled from a teen drama. Where is the humanity? Where is the real conflict? This isn’t writing. This is a murder of art.”

The girl seems to shrink into her seat.

Agatha tosses the paper onto the desk and picks up the next one. This time, she doesn’t read for long before looking up. “Who thinks it’s acceptable to start a scene with ‘Once upon a time’ in an academic assignment? Are you trying to sell an idea or put a child to sleep?”

A boy in the front row tries to justify his choice, but Agatha raises a hand, cutting him off.

“I’m not here to hear excuses. I’m here to see talent. And so far, I’ve seen nothing worth my time.”

The silence in the room is palpable. You see Darcy whisper something to Peter, probably something like “Yeah, definitely heartless,” but you can’t focus. Your own script is in your hands, and the weight of the paper feels like lead.

Finally, your turn comes. With trembling hands, you hand the sheet to Agatha Harkness, feeling as if you’re handing over a piece of yourself. She takes the paper with an almost deliberate calm, and for a moment, you’re sure she’s going to toss it onto the “failures” pile without even looking.

But then, something in the title seems to catch her attention. Her eyes, previously indifferent, narrow slightly, and she begins to read.

Seconds turn into eternities as you watch her. The room around you fades away; all you can hear is the sound of your own heart pounding against your ribs. Your mind drifts back, inevitably, to the moment you wrote those words—the weight of the story, the piece of your soul you decided to share.

Agatha turns the page. Once, then again. Her silence is like a knife. You don’t know if this is good or bad.

When she finally finishes, she places the paper on the desk. Unlike the others, she doesn’t discard it immediately, but she also doesn’t show approval. Her eyes lock onto you, assessing, and there’s something new in her expression: a trace of curiosity.

“Interesting.” Her tone is neutral, but there’s something hidden in it—a hint of intrigue, perhaps? She leans forward slightly, crossing her arms. “Are you trying to tell a personal story?”

Your face burns instantly, and you feel the weight of all the eyes around you. Still, you find the strength to nod in confirmation, even as shame nearly swallows you whole.

“Hmm.” Agatha raises an eyebrow, pressing her lips into a thoughtful line. “You have no technique. No structure. The writing is messy, almost amateurish.”

Her words cut deep, and you bite your lip hard to keep the bile from rising in your throat.

“But…” She pauses, looking at the paper with unsettling intensity. “You have—” then, she focuses on you, and seeing those ocean-blue eyes so close makes your body tremble. “—something.”

Her choice of words is as vague as it is provocative, and you feel the weight of that “something” hanging in the air between you. She narrows her eyes, as if trying to figure out exactly what it was in the text that caught her—or in you.

“Stay after the bell rings.”

Her voice is final, like a sentence, but there’s no hostility. She dismisses you with a slight wave of her hand, and you feel a mixture of relief and anxiety as you return to your seat.

While the others hand in their scripts, you remain restless, trying to decipher Agatha’s expression and the reason behind her words. What in your text could have caught her attention? The room around you is filled with muffled murmurs, but in your mind, it’s as if you’re trapped in a storm.

As soon as the bell rings, only three people remain in the room besides you. The silence is dense, heavy with expectation, as Agatha moves with the same deliberate calm as before.

Of course, she already knows exactly what she’s doing. This special, hand-picked mentorship was clearly a strategy to appear more "kind" to the public, even though, so far, there had been nothing friendly about her approach.

You watch as she begins the individual feedbacks, calling Darcy first. The girl in front of you seems to be caught between hope and terror but agrees to step forward. As Agatha starts speaking to her, you try to distract yourself, but you can’t stop your eyes from wandering back to the director.

She is... magnetic. Even as she crushes Darcy’s creative dreams with precise, cutting words, there’s something about her that simply demands attention. And then it happens.

For a moment—or perhaps for all eternity—her blue eyes meet yours.

Your throat goes dry instantly. It’s impossible to interpret what’s in that gaze, but it hits you hard. Curiosity? Judgment? Or something else? You try to look away, but it’s as if you’re trapped. She stares at you for only a few seconds before returning to her conversation with Darcy, as if nothing had happened. But you know it did.

Your heart pounds so loudly it feels like it echoes in the empty room. Nervousness is consuming you, but there’s something else, a sensation you weren’t expecting. A tightness in your stomach.

Desire? Nervousness? Anxiety?

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to take a deep breath and organize your thoughts, but it only makes things worse. It feels like she has pulled a piece of the air around you away with just that look.

Time moves slowly. Agatha finishes Darcy’s feedback, moving on to the next student. And then, when your turn finally comes, you don’t know if you’re ready—or if you ever would be.

She calls your name firmly, and you stand up. Your legs feel weak as you walk toward her, carrying the weight of her expectation and your own desire to impress her.

“So,” she begins, crossing her arms, her sharp gaze settling on you. “Let’s talk about what you wrote.”

As soon as you sit before her, Agatha picks up your sheet of paper, holding it carefully, as if she were carrying something precious—or something dangerous. She doesn’t say anything right away, just fixes her eyes on the text for a few seconds before beginning to read again, this time out loud:

"One day, I had a dream about my mother. She was married to the man she truly loved, and without children. There, I had never seen her so happy."

Her voice is deep, but it carries a softness you didn’t expect. It’s as if she’s savoring each word, analyzing every nuance.

When she finishes, Agatha places the paper on the table with a controlled gesture and looks directly at you. The silence that follows seems to last an eternity.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of that gaze, as if she could see every secret you tried to hide.

“Is your mother the main character here?” The question is direct, blunt—like everything about her.

You feel your face heat up, looking away. “I... maybe?” you murmur, the words hesitant.

“No need to lie,” she interrupts, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “The text screams it. Every line, every word choice… it’s as if you were exorcizing a ghost. Tell me, is that what you tried to do? Exorcize the guilt of loving and hating at the same time?”

The brutality of the question leaves you speechless. You shift in your chair, uncomfortable, but she doesn’t seem inclined to ease the tension.

“Did she leave you?” Agatha presses, her eyes locked onto yours, as if she could pull the truth out of you by force.

You hesitate but finally let out a shaky sigh. “Yes.”

For a moment, her face seems to change. Something in her gaze softens, but only for a fraction of a second before she composes herself again.

“And yet, you chose not to hate her.” She tilts her head, as if studying a particularly intriguing piece of art. “That is… rare.”

“I think that… she did what she thought was best for her,” you reply, your voice almost a whisper. “I don’t blame her for seeking happiness, even if it hurt me.”

Agatha remains silent for a few moments, as if processing something. There was something in the text—or maybe in the way you spoke—that seemed to touch an old wound in her. A shadow passes over her face, but she quickly pushes it away, replacing it with a neutral expression.

“You have talent,” she declares, breaking the silence. “Still raw, but it’s genuine. And, more importantly, you have courage. The kind of courage I’m looking for.”

You blink, confused. “Looking for?”

Agatha leans forward, her eyes gleaming with dangerous intensity. “I’m assembling a team for my next project. I need minds that think like yours—that see beyond the surface and aren’t afraid to explore the shadows. Would you be interested?”

Your heart races. Working with Agatha Harkness? The woman you admired, even feared? It was more than you could have imagined, but the answer was obvious.

“Yes,” you respond quickly, barely able to contain the excitement in your voice.

Agatha smiles, and the gesture is as enigmatic as the rest of her. “Good. Get ready, little gem. I’m going to shape you piece by piece," The way she spoke was hypnotic, pulling you in. “and it will be… painful.”

As soon as you answer affirmatively, Agatha pulls something from the pocket of her purple blazer: a business card. It’s blue, with purple lettering in an elegant cursive font. The floral scent of the paper fills the air as she slides the card across the table toward you.

“Come to this address tomorrow,” she says, her voice firm but low, as if each word were chosen with care. “Seven at night. And don’t be late.”

You take the card with trembling fingers, its weight feeling heavier than it should. The moment you touch it, a wave of déjà vu washes over you. The texture, the scent, even the sophistication of the design remind you of the card Rio gave you earlier.

Two women so different, and yet… so similar. Both had a presence that seemed to capture the room, leaving you breathless. Both seemed to see through you, as if they could decipher your deepest thoughts with a single look.

You feel your heart speed up, confusion mixing with excitement. Why had these women, so powerful and enigmatic, captivated you so much? Rio had left something in you—a sense of unresolved mystery. Now, Agatha was doing the same, but in an even more intense way.

“Something wrong?” Agatha’s voice cuts through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present.

“N-no,” you reply quickly, slipping the card into your backpack. “I’ll be there.”

She only tilts her head, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before turning and leaving the room. Her silhouette disappears through the door, but the weight of her presence still lingers—heavy, inescapable.

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, a single question echoes in your mind: What the hell were you getting yourself into?

And more importantly, why couldn’t you stop feeling excited about it?

~*~

Y/n... How lucky you are, huh?

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

[anything-4-0ur-moony]

since people hate american marauders, fuck you, they’re now all from various states and most of them are involved in greek life in some way shape or form

barty says he’s from nyc but he’s a fucking liar. he is from an even richer even more pretentious part of upstate new york but one person assumed the city when he said he was from new york and he decided that was cooler and rolled with it. in a frat mostly to piss off his dad, always drunk or on something, still has a 4.0

dorcas is ACTUALLY from nyc. she’s majoring in polisci but is minoring in fashion cause it’s fun and she’s good at it

marlene is from a tiny town in tennessee, very conservative, VERY christian, really comes into herself at college although there is a LOT of religious trauma to work through

mary is from south carolina, she’s very much like a southern belle, make sweet tea that will rot your teeth type, 1000% in a sorority. she’s studying english or education and minoring in art, probably painting focused but she won’t be an art teacher

james is THE frat bro, like his dad and his dad’s dad and his dad’s dad’s dad were in this frat. he will be president eventually but for his freshman/sophmore years frank was president (james has a bit of a crush on him and did not realize) he’s studying sports medicine or social work and plays soccer

the black brothers are from massachusetts they went to some disgustingly expensive private schools, different schools though, either because sirius became awful after going to boarding school or because of trans!reg, your choice.

sirius joined the same frat as james, it’s the rival frat to his father’s so there’s some shit there. he isn’t on the soccer team because soccer wasn’t “sophisticated enough” for the blacks (he can fence and ski like a motherfucker though) but he does play soccer recreationally

regulus is studying law or finance or business or something equally awful because his parents made him, it’s soul crushing and he hates it but he is really good at it (as he is everything) he wants to study philosophy and will eventually switch when he gets out from under his parents thumb

lily and snape are from new england, i can’t think of like a specific place but it’s smaller and poorer, lily would be in an academic sorority but snape has a vendetta against greek life (cause he didn’t get any bids) and has also made lily very against it (hence her hatred for the marauders) her issues with petunia stem from pet not getting into the college, asking lily to stay behind with her, and lily just needing to get out of that small town

everyone loves texas remus but may i offer you like farm kid montana remus, his family has enough land and he was always busy enough that he never really got to interact with kids his age, maybe an accident with an animal that gave him his scars. he goes to college and joins a frat because growing up almost completely alone, that idea of unwavering brotherhood really appeals to him. he’s studying classics (shocker) which causes some fights with his dad who wanted him to do something more agricultural

peter is from illinois, it was a big deal for him to move out out state for college and join a frat since no body really expected anything from his life. he’s studying math. i think his storyline would kind of be like california by chappell roan, he really wanted the city to work out but it’s just not and he wants to go home. the city brings out the worst in him and he ends up becoming the worst version of himself to try and be liked

evan and pandora are from florida but moved all over because of their dad’s business. pandora is studying art (duh) with a minor in philosophy which is how she meets reg. evan is studying engineering, i’m thinking mechanical but i’m not too sure

[slimepuparibaba]

Chaos in Linkon: AU where each of the LADS guys have an MC and also they all know each other

I want to make something like Chibi Linkon Report except it's with me and my friends and sisters MCs alongside the Love Interests and they all know each other

The MCs are like this:

Xavier's MC is one of the best sword wielders and an overall kind and caring hunter who helps people and is just as much a Disney Princess as Xavier who loves to garden and loves animals... but also she's a chronic insomniac and cannot sleep for her life, appears at Xavier's bedroom door like a sleep paralysis demon at 3AM, standing there silently, not wanting to wake him up so she just stands there. Her average amount of sleep is 1 hour. It's bad. It's really bad. Please help her. It's not even nightmares, it's just she literally cannot sleep.

Zayne's MC is seen as a role model in the workplace for her maturity, her poise, a reliable older sister figure to everyone... also she cannot taste anything, her taste buds don't work, so she likes the most extreme kind of food, accidentally gave Zayne the food she prepared for herself, it was way too fucking spicy to actual inhumane standards. Also, has a slight fear of doctors, just does not like visiting the hospital, going to checkups, etc. Zayne literally has to coax her for any of her check-ups with a date or a movie night after the fact. Her visits would be less frequent if she just stopped overworking herself so much (workaholic).

Rafayel's MC is beauty and grace, always wearing a smile and it's rare to see her upset about anything, a very cheerful person! She loves music, loves the ocean, perfect compliment to Rafayel! ...but also she is actually very scary, loves tragedy and horror and thrillers and slashers, and one time Rafayel walked in on her in the kitchen as she was holding a knife and there was red on her face (it was from some ketchup, but she looked terrifying). The moment she stops smiling is the day Linkon will be destroyed. Also, she cannot draw.

Sylus' MC is a temperamental girl that's sharp-tongued and strong-willed, as well as very headstrong. Sylus of Onychinus is her mortal enemy... until they're in a private space, then she's constantly seeking out his attention and getting pampered by him. Jumpy, actually a cat, and only fights Sylus because that's her love language apparently. She also has a corkboard in Onychinus' base solely for her insane ramblings about any conspiracies about Ever or the Aether Core and has lost sleep explaining it to him (and he just watches before putting her to bed).

Caleb's MC is the sweet, adorable little sister figure everyone loves, and is relatively shy at first glance but very friendly and a bit of a nerd! She also makes plushies for her friends! ...but also touch Caleb and you're dead. No, seriously, touch him and you're dead. She knows everything about Caleb, she has known him since they were kids, if anyone even thinks of hurting him or taking him away from her, they are dead. Touch him and you're dead. Did you know she made a plushie of him to keep her company while he was away, and that she stole one of his hoodies? And by one, we mean multiple? Do not touch her gege. Touch her gege and you're dead. That is her gege, her gege is hers, he is literally hers, she is just as much his as he is hers, do not fucking TOUCH HER GEGE—

Basically, all the girls are the same but also slightly different from their love interest. They compliment each other well.

Also the boys regularly hang out with the girls and it's funny because of how much of a found family all of them seem to be.

The girls all already see each other as sisters, so they're very close and like to spend time with one another. They give each other advice, drop by each other's apartments... they were all with each other during the initial days of the shelter due to being experimented on for the Aether Core (Yes, all of them have Aether Core fragments and are deemed Experiments 001-a, 001-b, 001-c, 001-d, and 001-e. They're part of the same Experiment Line due to their aether cores being so similar to each other.) Each girl has a super strong resonation with their partner. They can only exist in a universe where their partner is. This timeline is unique because all of them are now existing at once in one place at the same time, which is an abnormality and why Ever wants them so bad.

The boys "hate" each other with every fiber of their being, typically finding ways to insult each other or poke fun of someone. But also they all are definitely brothers in arms and do care for each other (somewhat, they would never admit it). Despite not knowing all the details, they know of each others' circumstances. All agree that if the time comes, they'd put aside their differences for the sake of their loved ones and try to reach a conclusion all of them would be satisfied with.

They're a mixed friend group that do hang out pretty often, and one of them somehow named themselves the "Aether Core Investigation Team".

I wanna post more about this AU and maybe make small drawings or comics of them cuz I just think it's fun.

Also Caleb mentioning there was an Experiment 001-f off-handedly to the guys and the guys immediately questioning who the fuck it is, where she went, as well as who their soul resonates with and why no one heard anything about them, only to say he was the only one who remembered they existed because all the others in the Experiment 001 line died and forgot. 001-f just randomly disappeared after that, so he does not know who they are or where they are anymore or if they even exist. AKA 001-f will be made once the 6th LI comes out and we finally coax one of our friends into finally playing the game.

ALSO FUN FACT: ALL MCS ARE NAMED AND HAVE BEEN MENTIONED SOMEWHERE ON AO3 BEFORE, BUT I WAS NOT THE ONE WHO WROTE ABOUT THEM! IT WAS MY SISTER! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA FIND OUT WHERE, IT'S A FIC FROM CALEB'S MC'S PERSPECTIVE :D

[respectthepetty]

Fah is better than I could ever be, and regardless if he is black, blue, or bi-colored, he is a full Blue Boy in the final episode, which is why Rak feels safe with him.

He is right there with Rak to take care of his grandfather, and he is being very polite to Rak's dad (when he doesn't need to be!).

And in Blue Boy fashion, he is already up before everyone else to grab food and make sure everyone is okay.

I love this angel of a man!

And I'm going to claim that Yellow Yal Rak is back in yellow for the moment his father openly accepts their relationship.

Because the boys are going full circle back to the start of their relationship; therefore, I think they are back in their colors: blue and yellow!

Rak's mom agrees with me because the lunch she makes for Fah has a blue sticky note.

And the one she gives her son has a yellow sticky note. Thanks for joining the color agenda, Mom!

But even more, the boys are in love, so Rak wears pink on the beach while Fah stays in his blue.

Then, the lighting department went into full gear and gave me this beautiful blue lighting for Fah.

And hit me with yellow lights as he stared lovingly at Rak.

Look at their colors!

Look at the way they love each other!

Look at the blinding light!

And the lighting department decided to go for a double because when they got back in the room, the yellow lighting continued behind Fah.

While Rak got the blue lighting.

Then they got busy mixing them.

You earned that paycheck, lighting department!

And they deserve a bonus for this neon heart light that I want to see in every show until the end of time!

Because it was the perfect transition to these two color-coded boys to finally get to the "in love" part of their story!

Surprising no one, Black Brooder Real has red on his back for his Red Rascal Hia when he directly asks Hia to make it official and be his boyfriend.

The emerging pink says "yes" and so does Hia!

But Rak still needs to finish his gift to his Blue Boy before the families meet each other.

And I am once again claiming these are their colors regardless of what actual colors they are. As far as me and my color agenda are considered that is dark blue and light yellow.

Thank you for vindicating me, Rak, with your gift!

So now in the final moments, we get twenty million cameos from all of the Domundi actors while Lee gets his man.

Hia and Real also deliver this amazing line, "Our communication skills are improving and so are our kisses" *growth*

And these two crazy kids continue with their "Sky x Sea" theme even though it should clearly be the Sky x Sun.

But it doesn't matter because they are color-coded boys in love and they got their happy ending!

Wait . . .

Fah never wore Rak's yellow!

[bubblez-bubble]

Guys.

Natsu leaving Lucy with nothing but a note was way sadder than you think.

The last words Lucy ever heard from her father she didn't even actually get to hear, she read them on paper.

So imagine how devastated she was that Fairy Tail disbanded and she went home to find a note from Natsu that he was leaving without her. (Honestly I think I have that switched, please correct me if I do.)

But just like when her dad died, when Natsu left she felt like she had no one left and no home to go back to anymore, so she packed up and left for Crocus to start over.

Now I don't know if Layla got the chance to speak to Lucy with any final goodbyes before she passed, but let's believe for a moment that she didn't and that she left Lucy with a letter explaining how much her mother loved her like her father did. Yes the circumstances are different, but also bare in mind no parent wants to see their child suffer, so forcing Lucy to watch Layla die slowly and painfully probably wasn't on Laylas agenda.

So it's plausible she also left Lucy with a letter.

Which also makes her writing letters to her mom and dad after they die even sadder, even though she knows they'll never get to read them, that was the note they left her on.

So with that mind, it stands to reason that Lucy subconsciously associates receiving a letter from someone as a goodbye is a final goodbye and she'll never get to see them again.

Which could explain why she was so distressed about Natsu leaving her with a note instead of talking her face-to-face. She probably would've been more understanding and less upset about Natsus decision had he actually talked to her.

Sure there may have been a "let me come with you" back and forth, but if Natsu had told her no and explained why, she probably would've been able to let him go easier with that understanding.

But because at least one, potentially two people, had left her with no more than a letter as a final goodbye, it's possible that Natsus "harmless" note was actually extremely emotionally damaging for Lucy and maybe even traumatizing. Because people that leave her with letters are people she never gets to see or hear from again.

Now you could argue Natsu left a note and not a letter, but pen on paper is still pen on paper and words that'll never be spoken aloud.

On the flip side to this, a small part of me feels that Natsu leaving Lucy with a note was also a call back to the time Lucy left him with a note when she went to confront her father.

Except, if that's the case, it almost makes it hard to feel bad for Lucy.

In Natsus note he explained he and Happy were going away to train and even specified how long they'd be gone.

Lucy's note simply said "I will go home."

That's it.

No timeline of when or if she'll return.

No explanation why.

Nothing.

"I will go home."

Which makes Natsu and the others panicking and going to get her back make a lot of sense because that makes it sound like she's going home and staying put to protect them.

Which would've been sweet if that's what she was actually doing.

In my opinion, her note should've said something along the lines of "I'm going home to stop my father, I'll return soon." or something to that degree.

The only reason it's easier to feel bad for Lucy is because unlike Lucy who specified her location (kind of), and made it easier for them to find her (because obviously if you ask enough people about an affluent family, chances are somebody knows where they live), while Natsu gave no direction at all, just that he was leaving to train and would be back in a year.

Each of their notes complimented each other in a way, each leaving out details the other made sure to include, almost as if Natsu remembered how freaked out he was when Lucy left with a note and made sure to include the details she hadn't before, but forgetting to mention the details she did give them, or perhaps, the more likely option, he didn't quite yet know his destination because he was traveling to train and just couldn't give her one.

Which their notes being the exact opposite of each other's on almost opposite ends of the series is like their relationship itself.

Lucy, a bright, intelligent, beautiful, and emotionally fragile girl who knows who she is and where she's going in life and shes happy with it, and then there's Natsu, not exactly the smartest, canonically considered ugly (because the people of their world are fucking blind!), and very stoic and self preserved with his emotions for the most part (unless it helps him unlock some important plot device power up), he struggles with who he is or which direction his life is heading, all he knows is he needs to get stronger.

She's calm, he's impulsive.

She thinks with her head, he acts with his heart.

Even their living situations are complete opposites, which, a little psychology lesson real quick, actually reflects on their mental states. Lucy's apartment is always cleaned and organized just like her thoughts while Natsus house is cluttered and dirty like his thoughts.

These two were literally made to compliment one another, right down to how they took off with nothing but a note.

With that in mind, it's very sweet that they compliment each other so well to that degree, however it still doesn't change the fact that it's possible that to Lucy, Natsu's note felt like a final goodbye like she had received from her father and potentially (not canonically) her mother.

I know this is a little scattered but it all came back to the note in the end at least. 😅

Thanks for coming to my very scatter-brained Ted talk.

[eggfriedricedwasian]

Ive seen things where people have kids who are dark haired and eyed at birth and turn light haired and eyes when they get older or vice versa.

I headcanon Janet with blonde hair and green eyes and Jack with black hair blue eyes.

Im using this on Tim.

Tim was born with blonde hair green eyes and looked like Jack as a baby, but when he got older, around 4ish, he turned black haired and blue eyed and started looking like Janet.

His parents were both in a love hate relationship with this change. On one hand they want him to have their colors and look like them...

On the other hand they miss when he used to look like the other parent.

Just imagine:

Tim going through old pictures in his gazillion boxes of pictures, the family is helping him.

"Who's this baby? Steph's?"

Someone asks. They look over to see Duke holding a photo of a blonde baby, smiling a gummy smile with curly blonde hair and green emerald eyes looking brighter than a kryptonian in the sun.

"No.. That's.. who is that baby?"

Steph asked very slowly. Guess they forgot to tell Duke that Steph's daughter was a sensitive topic amongst them.

"Steph gave up her daughter at birth, Duke. And it was a traumatic experience for her so we don't talk about it."

Bruce informed.

"O-Oh! I'm sorry."

"It's okay, you didn't know"

She waved him off with a smile, but everyone still wondered who the baby was.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

Tim replied from inside his closet. He walked out upon no reply, setting down another box filled with camera equipment and saw all their confused faces.

"Who's baby is this?"

Duke turned the picture and Tim looked at it closer.

"Oh!"

Tim smiled, taking it and putting it next to his face.

"It's me!"

He smiled just as bright as the baby, which happened to be him, in the picture.

.

.

.

"WHAT!?"

The family, including Alfred, stared jaw dropped shocked at the guy.

The baby in the photo, smiling oh so brightly like the sun, green eyed, blonde curly hair, with the cutest little red polka dot dress on, was Tim, who had straight-ish black hair and blue eyes, didn't smile as brightly as the moon, who only gave smirks and grins, and was wearing a long sleeves under a Limp Bizkit t shirt with very baggy jeans.

"Yeah.. Genetics! Ya know..?"

"Explain."

Jason demanded.

"Well, up until I was 4-ish I had my dad's face but my mom's green eyes and blonde curly hair, but then it turned black and my eyes turned blue and straight-ish and I started looking more like my mom."

He rubbed his neck sheepishly.

That started the searching of Tim's baby photos. They'd organize the Bat photos and the hero photos later, right now they needed to find all of the blonde hair green eyed baby Tim photos.

It was no secret that Tim was trans, so when all the photos of a little girl in dresses and skirts showed up they weren't phased. It was hilarious to see all the pouty faced pictured of Tim in dresses.

The photos did get put up around the house with Tim's (begrudgingly(willingly)) permission.

Dick wanted him to bleach his hair but he refuses to damage his hair.

But also imagine this:

The older that Tim gets, the blonde comes back. He still looks like his mom, but his slowly starts turning blonde again, and his eyes start having a greener tint/hue to it.

The first to notice was Bart.

Bart was braiding Tim's rather ling hair when he points it out.

"Hey Tim, your hair's got some blonde in it!"

"What?"

Tim runs to the mirror and looks in it. Yep. Sure enough his hair was growing some blonde strands. And now that he looked, his eyes looked more green than it's normal blue.

"Oh my gosh.."

He calls Bruce.

Bruce who was in a JL meeting.

"I'm in a meeting."

"B! Im going blonde again! Ans my eyes! They're turning green!"

Tim says, somewhat panicked, somewhat excited.

Bruce blanks. Because.. what. What do you mean his baby boy, who he loved staring at the blonde and green eyed baby pictures of, was resorting back to that color.

"...really?"

He asks very hesitantly at first.

"Yeah!"

Tim turns his head down, showing his scalp. And there, right there, were several prominent, yet blended, strands of blonde growing in a curl pattern amongst the straight black locks.

Bruce just about cries right then and there.

Because then Tim does a close up of his eyes. And yep. His eyes have a but of green in them.

"That's great, sweetie. But I'm in a meeting right now."

"Oh! Sorry!"

He hangs up.

Bruce doesn't.

He's still stuck on the call smiling like a sappy parent whose kid just did something so small yet so touching. There were tears in his eyes and none of the JL knew what to do.

[fbfh]

did you know that Dean wakes up one morning and realizes he has a fucking bombshell of a wife/husband/spouse, a cozy (slightly rural) suburban house, and not one but three fucking daughters???? Did you know that he woke up one morning to toddler giggles and little kid bickering and baby babbling????? and your girls come charging in hushing their little giggles so they don't wake up mommy and daddy and so OBVIOUSLY he has to pretend to be asleep so he doesn't foil their plan. he focuses all his energy on keeping his face and body relaxed, keeping his breathing even. they're whispering and babbling and Dean peeks an eye open and looks at the love of his life and these three angels with their daddy's attitude and their mama's heart. they have your eyes and his smile. they're... the best parts of both of you, and there's something entirely new and beautiful in each of them too.

Bobby Dean is your oldest, and her 4th birthday is just around the corner. She's 3 and 3/4 right now, and won't let anyone forget it.

Your second is Jodi John, or JJ informally. She's fought her way half way through the terrible twos and is already getting a head start on the whole 3 going on 13 thing.

Mary Cass, or Cassie, is your youngest. She's just over a year old, and wants to do everything her big sisters do.

And Dean is looking at your little girls, and at you. He sees the way the morning sunlight dapples in through the window and illuminates their tangled hair and disney princess nightgowns. Your face is all puffy from sleep, and you still smell like the apple pie you made yesterday.

it's real, he realizes. that pipe dream that apple pie life.

you gave that to him. you did that. you turned his deepest, most unspoken desires into a reality like it was nothing. and every ounce of joy and love and peace he feels every moment of every day, he owes it all to you. You try to tell him on occasion when he gets all sentimental on you, he deserves it. he deserves every good thing he feels, and he's so great with the girls, he's a natural dad and you couldn't possibly dream of a better husband to do it with.

Because at his heart, Dean is a family man. He's your family man.

[writingonleaves]

to not know who i am, but still know that i'm good long as you're here with me - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x original female character

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, nothing much else i can think of!

inspired by + title: i like me better by lauv

word count: 6.4k

author's note: hello everyone!! i feel like i've been in such a rut lately but i'm glad i managed to write this one out! this is for the lovely @wyattjohnston for her winter fic exchange 2k25. demi, thank you as always for your hard work in putting this together and i hope you enjoy. sorry that it's a few days late! to everyone, please let me know what you think!!

*****

When Maia Flaherty left her usual lunchtime coffee run with a number from one very Jack Hughes, she didn’t really quite know what to think. 

“No pressure,” he had said with an easy smile. “I just think you’re pretty and the glare you gave that couple that was making out at the table next to you sold it for me.”

As she stares out on her train ride home, she’s deep in thought. This might be just a one date thing and then they find out they have nothing in common and they move on. But she knows herself. She doesn’t fall fast, but when she falls, she falls hard. What if she ends up falling harder than him, setting herself up for heartbreak. But she knows that’s also unfair to him, especially because she doesn’t know him. She appreciates his boldness in asking her out, but she doesn’t understand how he can be so confident and sure that he wants to go on a date with her. To be fair, maybe he’s only looking for something casual, to which she has even less of an idea of how to handle it, because she has never done casual and doesn’t think she could do it. 

As she’s walking the streets back to her place in West Village, she thinks about how to approach this. Knowing her, she’s too curious to not text him and she probably will think on it over the weekend. But, should she protect herself and go into this as just meeting a friend or go into this romantically? She admits that he is cute and she was the slightest bit charmed by him, but she knows that she knows nothing else about him. She takes the time to look up some of his highlights of his career (he had dropped his Instagram handle to her “just so you know I’m a real person”) and she knows that he’s good. Almost annoyingly good. As a University of Minnesota alum, she’s familiar enough with hockey as a whole. She stalks his Instagram and doesn’t find anything much besides posts with family, friends and teammates. Pretty average. But she’s still weary. 

Monday morning rolls around, and on her train to work, she takes a deep breath, clicking on his contact and copy and pasting what she had written last night. 

hi!!! it’s maia from the cafe. if the offer still stands, i’d love to go out on that date 

Not even a minute later, and she gets a response. 

what a wonderful text to get on a Monday morning

the offer absolutely still stands. what’s your schedule looking like this week?

not around during regular people work hours so monday-friday 9-5 won’t work

my weekend is pretty empty atm but idk if that works for you? i’m assuming you have games this week

no games this weekend, for once. all weeknight games.

lucky timing

lucky indeed. you around Saturday for lunch?

works for me!

you’re in jersey right? i can come out to you if that’s easier

are you kidding me?

i’m not gonna make you come out to me, especially because I’m the one who asked you out

where are you in the city? I’ll come to you

She smiles to herself.

I’m in west village, but i can meet you anywhere 

i’ll do some research after practice and get back to you?

sure

i also can suggest some places as well!! 

appreciate it. i got it though. i’m the one who asked so I feel like it’d be unfair to ask you to plan

Huh, she thinks, being surprised again. She doesn’t have much to compare to, but she can’t remember a single date she’s been on where she hasn’t been the one planning.

okay lmk if you need my help! no rush we have a whole week 

(Jack has a break in a morning practice and he’s just staring at his phone with the biggest smile on his face. His teammates are all making fun of him, but he pays them no mind. It’s not new for them to poke fun at him for texting girls, but he knows, he just knows that this one is different. 

He also kinda likes the idea of “we.”)

kinda wish we didn’t

oh?

saturday is so far away 

you’ll survive

She gets into the office just then and her phone is forgotten as she’s thrown into spreadsheets and meetings. It isn’t until 4 p.m. where she has the mental energy and time to look at his responses. The last text he had sent was two hours ago.  

i found a place. well, a couple

i asked some of my friends who know the city better than I do

*screenshot of list in Notes app*

i tried to find places in different parts of Manhattan, mostly in West Village. i don’t know where exactly in that area you are and how easy or hard it is for you to get wherever

sorry, just realized I’m spamming you and you’re probably working

I’m so sorry i left you hanging work was literally insane until now

honestly all of these places sound wonderful

i’ve been to a couple of them before so tell your friends they have good taste

any one in particular you like?

you choose

since you’re planning it after all 

lol

i really don’t want you having to travel that far

i literally live in nyc so if I want to see any of my friends who don’t live by me I have to travel far

and you’re literally coming from jersey

i’ll be fine with any choice you make

seriously 

He chooses one of her favorite Greek food joints about 10 blocks from where she is and she tries to put it away in her mind. She still has this whole week to go. She’s known for years that she gets overwhelmed and stressed if she thinks ahead occasionally, and this is definitely one of those times. 

(There’s a game on Wednesday night, and her best friend and roommate Carrie urges her to put it on TV in the background while they’re eating dinner. Carrie knows next to nothing about hockey, so Maia tries to explain it to her. But most of the time, she’s quiet and her eyes are zeroed in on 86. Or trying to, because everyone skates so fucking fast. He scores a goal and assists another, and she knows that that’s literally his job, but she can’t help but feel something watching him skate around so confidently. 

She’s always respected the skill it takes to play hockey. Skating is hard. But the hockey attitude wasn’t always something that she loved. She understands that she’s projecting a lot of unwarranted judgement. But she doesn't think it’s all based on lies.

As the minutes wind down in the game, she zones out. She really doesn’t understand how or why this literal superstar of the sport just approached her and after knowing literally nothing about her, asked her out. This shit doesn’t happen to her. She also knows the usual crowd that hockey players go for. She’s not blonde. She’s not a model. She’s not anything like that. 

What does he want from her?)

*****

She wakes up Saturday morning a bit groggy, thanks to the glasses of wine her and Carrie had the night before. She goes through her morning routine, but decides to forgo the coffee and make a smoothie instead. She usually likes to sip on her coffee for hours rather than down it all in one go. And she knows if she downs it, she’ll start shaking. 

She doesn’t need to be shaking today. 

Carrie stumbles out when Maia just leaves the bathroom and offers to make a smoothie for her. With a yawn, Carrie nods as she slides past her to go into the bathroom. 

It’s 9:48 a.m. They’re meeting right at noon, so she has a bit of time. Her phone buzzes right after she finishes cleaning the blender. 

good morning! see you soon

She just sends back a couple of emojis, before scrolling around on her social media accounts, sipping on her smoothie. It’s just the waiting now that’s making her more nervous. 

She already knows what she’s gonna wear. An olive green sweater she bought recently that she’s been loving, black leggings, brown booties and earrings that she got years ago when she studied abroad. She’s leaving her hair down and putting some light makeup on. Nothing crazy. This is literally lunch. And she’s not gonna overthink for a boy. 

Carrie proves to be a good distraction, simultaneously hyping her up, assuring her and talking about other things to keep her head level. She walks to the subway station and goes on the train, airpods in. This is all routine. The way there is no stranger to her, often meeting up with her brother for dinner around the area. 

She checks the time. On time. 

She approaches the restaurant’s front at 11:57 and decides to walk in and grab a table. She stops in her tracks when she sees that he’s already there, in the corner by the window that she usually loves to sit at. He’s wearing a gray sweater and blue jeans, a baseball cap flipped backwards on his head. She waves off the hostess and heads in his direction. 

He looks up from his phone and immediately locks it, standing up. She smiles in greeting and he comes around to grab her bag as she shrugs off her jacket. She thanks him softly, to which he just smiles back at. As she’s sitting down, he pours out some water.

“You didn’t get lost getting here?” She jokes. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not that directionally challenged. Just not used to it.”

“That’s what you get for living in Jersey.”

“Oh. So that’s how we’re gonna play this?”

And that just sets the tone for the rest of the date. It’s…surprisingly easy. The follow up question immediately is if she’s from the city, to which she snorts and says “absolutely not,” but she’s been living here for over two years now. She grew up in Buffalo, she says, and went to college at University of Minnesota, to which he, of course, widens his eyes. “You went to Minnesota, and you’re not a hockey fan?” She rolls her eyes. “When did I say I’m not a hockey fan?” She talks about how yes, she went to a couple of games when she was there and they were always fun, but she wasn’t necessarily an avid fan. 

He talks about growing up in Toronto even though he was born in Orlando and then going to Michigan and how hockey was literally just his life from a young age, especially with parents who were also involved, as well as an older and a younger brother growing up to play too. Sure, she knows all of this (she couldn’t help herself and did enough research), but it is nice and different to hear from him directly. She does slip for a second and makes fun of his private school upbringing (“It tracks.”) but the shocked delight on his face lets her know that he doesn’t take offense. 

As they order the food and it comes and they start eating, she lets herself be charmed. She didn’t expect him to be so…normal. Normal in the way that she often forgot that he was one of the best hockey players in the country. Normal in the way that parts of him remind her of her closest guy friends. But then he would mention something about his career or just a random detail in his life that would make her remember. 

She notices that he also is very aware of how much he talks. It’s natural for her to ask more questions, because that’s just how she’s wired, but he turns questions back to her that excite her or make her laugh, and then she goes on a minor tangent. It’s very back and forth. Balanced. 

She’s having a really good time. 

She expected him to be more…straight-forward in terms of flirting, due to how he asked her out, but he’s not. He seems a bit nervous at times even, chuckling adorably and avoiding eye contact, but then he says something that’s so just so incredibly confident that makes her flustered or let out a scoff of disbelief. 

Before they know it, they’re done eating. She protests when he immediately grabs the check and pulls out his card, to which he just playfully glares at her for. She does relent and thanks him, and she’ll never forget the boyish smile he gave her. 

They’re both on the same page, not wanting their time together to end quite yet, lingering to leave. And then she suggests grabbing a coffee from a place around the corner and walking to a nearby park. She teases him, asking if he’ll get cold to which he scoffs at (“I’m basically a Canadian and I live at the rink. I’ll be fine. Will you?” She laughs. “I was born and raised in Buffalo. Don’t worry about me.”) 

They grab coffee (to which she puts her foot down and pays and he lets her), him a black coffee and her an iced chai, and she leads them leisurely to a nearby park. It’s a little chilly, but it’s not windy which is good, and they find an empty bench and sit down, their conversation and battering just coming so incredibly easy. Even to the point where sometimes, she’s not necessarily calling him out, but she’s challenging some of his thoughts. She’s not shattering his confidence at all, but definitely subtly giving him a reality check and just being honest.

And not even purposefully. It’s just how she is.

(He really appreciates it, actually. It’s been awhile since someone who he’s just met isn’t afraid to challenge him off the rink. He loves the attention and always has, and she’s giving that to him, but there’s also something innate in her that’s so grounded and in turns, grounds him.)

But it’s also different. It’s different when he randomly throws out a compliment here and there, saying how he loves her laugh and how cute she is. The way he’s paying attention to everything she’s saying. The way he just can’t help but chuckle almost incredulously because she’s so much more than he imagined, even though he’s the one who asked her out. 

Before they know it, it’s almost 4 and they’ve been chatting the whole time. Yet somehow, it still feels like they could keep going. She walks him to the nearest subway station since it’s on her way home. She gives him a farewell hug and he follows his gut and kisses her on the cheek, promising to text her. She smiles one more time before turning to walk back to her apartment.

When she gets back to her place, Carrie’s there and ready for a recap. She says everything she can remember them talking about, which is a lot, while Carrie just listens carefully. Throughout it, she’s trying to downplay it, probably for self-preservation purposes, looking back. Carrie lets her dwell on it occasionally, but also interrupts when needed to try to assure her friend that she’s a catch and there’s a reason he asked her out in the first place and she can’t play herself down like that. 

What she knows for a fact at this point is that she likes spending time with him, and she does have romantic feelings for him. Everything else? She has no idea. She has no idea if they’d pair together well. She has no idea what he wants from this. She has no idea how he actually feels about her, because he could’ve just thrown out those compliments because he’s naturally flirty. It wouldn’t surprise her. And god, she can’t help but let her mind wander into his career and being in the spotlight and how that just affects…everything.

She just doesn’t know. 

(Meanwhile, he returns to an empty place, Luke out with some friends for the night. He can’t stop smiling, replaying the whole day in his head. She’s just so much more than he expected, able to keep up with his quips, often beating them. She laughs and smiles so freely. She’s so damn smart. She’s beautiful. 

He’s had his fair share of hookups and casual things, but this? This is different. It’s scary, he thinks, that he’s this invested after one date. It’s unfamiliar territory, and there’s so much more he wants to know about her. 

He needs to know everything he can about her. Before she figures out that she’s way too good for him.)

*****

Four weeks pass, and they haven’t seen each other. There have been some sporadic texts here and there, but with the chaos of both their jobs and then Thanksgiving, it hasn’t accounted to more than that. 

(She’s trying to get over it and let it pass. He wants anything but that)

On an early December evening, Maia’s just finished cleaning up the dishes when she gets a call. When she sees his name, she blinks. She clicks accept.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Jack.”

She can’t help but chuckle a bit. “Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

“How are you? How was your Thanksgiving?”

“I’m doing okay. Thanksgiving was good! I got to go back home for a few days. How about you? Did you even have a break?”

“Not really. I had some family come to watch some games though, so that was nice.”

“I’m sure it was,” she hums. 

“Listen-I…I know it’s been awhile.”

“Almost a month.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out guiltily. “I-I’m really sorry about that. I’ve…the season’s just been so crazy and, yeah. I’ve been meaning to reach out sooner, but just, like. Yeah. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she replies automatically. “I get it. Your schedule is crazy. I feel like you have a game every other day.”

“You’ve been keeping up?” He teases lightly. 

She rolls her eyes. “A bit more than I used to, sure. But that really doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs a bit, before settling down into a serious tone. “If you have time, or if you even want to, because I totally understand why you wouldn’t, I’d love to go out again. I just, I had a really good time with you last time. Again, I know I…if you say no, I get it.”

It’s silent for a couple of seconds, but she knows her answer. “I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she smiles to herself at his surprised tone. “You surprised?”

“A bit. I mean, I kinda fell off the face of the planet. I would understand if you didn’t want to see me again.”

“Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“When are you free?”

He sighs. “This week? Not much, unfortunately. I’m only around for dinner tomorrow and Friday, and then I’m gone for a few days on a stretch of away games.”

“Wanna do tomorrow?”

“You around?”

She snorts. “I’m not as busy as you are, Mr. NHL. I’m free most weeknights.”

He lets out a low laugh. “Okay, yeah. Tomorrow night’s perfect. I’ll actually be in the city in the afternoon to meet up with a friend so I’ll just stay and meet you around there.”

“Oh good. I don’t have to pretend I want to go to Jersey.”

“This again?”

She laughs. “I can choose this time. Do you know where you’re meeting your friend?

“Yeah. I have his address. Hang on, I’ll send it to you.” Seconds later, her phone buzzes and she briefly looks at the location on Google Maps. 

“Oh. Battery Park. That’s close to where I am. You must really like this friend if you’re willing to travel that far. It’s a pretty long way from Newark.”

“Right? That’s what I told him. So, tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah. I can figure out a place and I’ll let you know tomorrow morning the latest if that works? What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything you like.”

“Jack.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, okay. How does ramen sound?”

“Perfect. I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll text you,”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Tomorrow comes, this time at a lowkey but busy ramen place where they’re sat side by side and their knees are touching. Jack’s hair is out this time, and the waves are falling across his forehead and she just loves the way it looks. He notices the two rings she’s wearing as one quickly catches a light in the restaurant. They continue on from the last time they talked but this time, swimming the surface of deeper conversations. 

She talks about her constant doubts about her job and how she sometimes just wants to pick up and movs somewhere else and start new. He talks about how he knows he’s good at hockey and knows this is the only path for him, but how he recognizes that outsiders look and sometimes see a sell-out or someone who doesn’t work hard. But he’s learned to just put his head down and play and to do it well. That’s something she can also relate to. 

She talks about how her relationship with her older brother is one that she’s found to be very grateful for, especially because they’re so far apart in age. A lot of who she is is based on his personality. He talks about being the middle child and being close in age to his brothers, and how competition was always just built into every activity they did. He’s realized, especially as he’s gotten older, how much he appreciates his brothers and having all three of them being in the same league, with Luke on the same team, and going through similar experiences but also completely different trajectories. 

(Somewhere, they both take a few sake shots and Maia’s not quite drunk, but buzzing, her laughter more free and her face redder).

Even semi-intoxicated, she decides not to ask the questions she really wants to yet that focus around them and what they are, unclear of where they stand. They’re sitting so close to each other and she relishes in it, wanting more. When she runs a hand through her hair to push it back, she notices his eyes flickering at that action, which means…nothing. She has to break away eye contact sometimes because he’s just staring at her so intensely. 

No wonder he has girls wanting him left and right, she thinks. She’s kind of no better. 

Towards the end of the night (he paid again and she only let him after he said he would let her pay next time. Next time), they plan out vaguely when they’ll see each other next. He’s away for the next week or so, and she just shrugs. She gets it. It would be naive of her to think she can change it. “I’ll let you know the second I land,” he says, and she just nods. She then jokes that maybe their next date could be skating, and he rolls his eyes, though he takes it into consideration. When he asks if she’s serious, she snorts, “I mean, sure. But you’re not gonna have to teach me how, if that’s what you’re going for.” He laughs. Loudly.

When they part ways, he hugs her tightly and for a long time. She breathes him in subtly, her eyes fluttering shut when she feels him press a lingering kiss on her forehead. 

Maybe that’s when she should’ve asked. Because that act was way too intimate to feel friendly. But she didn’t, and she watched him walk away, chuckling as he turned around to shoot her a parting wink. 

She went to sleep that night, somehow, with so many thoughts circling around her mind)

*****

Maia has an idea of when he’s landing, so she’s not surprised when she gets a call on a Thursday night.

He seems a bit out of breath, and she asks him if everything’s okay. Everything’s fine, he says. He just landed back in Newark and is heading home. He cuts to the chase, and asks if she’s around the next night. She blinks, because she knows he has a game. He clarifies. Is she around after the game? (“Or for the game,” he adds quickly. “If you want to come, I can get you tickets.”) While she’s flattered, she knows that’s crossing a line at this point and she politely turns down his offer. But yeah, she says. I’m around after. What’s up? He asks if he can take her out on a date. And she knows her answer (it’s obviously yes) but she says only if she’s allowed to go to him in Jersey. He protests immediately, but she shuts him up (“Both of our dates have been way closer to where I am. It’s only fair, Maia.”) 

It’s gonna be a late night date, since the game (assuming no overtime) won’t end until at least 10:00. He’s not sure what he has in store, but she’s okay with not knowing. The only thing he assures her of is that he’ll drive her back into the city afterwards. Traffic should be light, so she doesn’t fight him. 

(That should’ve been another hint that this was something worth pursuing. She has a hard time letting go of control of plans, especially with people she hasn’t known for awhile.

She trusts him already)

When he hangs up, she thinks for a second. He had told her during their last date that he would let her know the second he landed. 

And he did. 

Huh.

*****  

The next night, she’s nervous. 

Dinner’s already been eaten. She caught the first period of his game, but had to leave to catch her trains to meet him. With encouraging words from Carrie paired with some hype up music, she’s on her way.

When she steps out of the station on this abnormally warm December night, she immediately sees him leaning against his car. His hair is damp from the shower he probably just took, and he’s sporting a peacoat over a sweater and blue jeans. 

He perks up when he sees her and she practically skips over to him. She smiles and pulls him into a hug, and she feels him press a light kiss in her hair. 

“Hey.” She says softly. 

“Hi,” he mutters in her hair, pulling away to lean down and place a kiss on her cheek. “It’s good to see you.” He opens the door for her as she slides in, and she’s thankful that she followed her instincts and dressed comfortably in her beloved Minnesota sweatshirt, stifling a yawn as she thanked him. She puts on her seatbelt and leans back, watching him climb in. 

He turns to her, “Wanna aux?”

“Are you sure?” She asks, already fiddling around to connect her Apple carplay. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He chuckles, looking behind him to pull onto the road. 

She shrugs. “What kind of music do you want?”

“Whatever you want.”

She snorts. “You don’t mean that.” She scrolls through her playlists and debates on which one to do. “I saw that you guys lost. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he replies automatically and she catches his eye and gives him a look of doubt. He corrects himself. “Okay, it’s frustrating, but none of that right now. I wanna hear about you. How’s your week been? Did that thing with your boss get resolved?”

She blinks. Right. She had mentioned that briefly when he called her earlier in the week. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I don’t know. You gotta learn which battles to fight, you know? This one is one I don’t have to win.”

He nods with a soft hum, stopping at a red light. “Do you like milkshakes?”

She chuckles a bit at the change of topic. “I don’t mind them.”

“Wanna get some right now?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No,” he admits. “Because I want one.”

“That can’t be on the diet plan you athletes have going on.” 

“Oh, it definitely isn’t. Worth it though.”

“Do they have oreo or cookies and cream?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.” He grins, and she takes a couple seconds just to watch it. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Thanks for coming out to Jersey at 10 pm.”

She chuckles. His heart drops to his stomach. “I had nothing else to do on a Friday night.”

He snorts. “Yeah, okay. I don’t believe that.”

“Really?”

He shrugs.

She leans back into her seat. “I don’t have the energy to hang out with people every night. Respect to the people who do. That’s just never been me. I can sit for hours and not talk to anyone.”

“You’re an introvert, then.”

“Is that surprising?”

He takes a second to think about it. “Yes, one, because you always talk about your friends so I know you have a lot. And two, because we literally talked for four hours on our first date.”

She shrugs, looking straight ahead of her to get the courage to respond. “There’s very few people in my life who I can talk with for hours.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky, then.”

She looks back over to him, watching as he shoots her a quick smile before he focuses back on the road. “How’s your week been?”

“The usual. Practices and games and travelling in the west coast, so I’m a little jetlagged, which isn’t great.”

“I didn’t realize that you guys play games like, every other day. Which is dumb, because like, it makes sense, but that just sounds exhausting. What am I saying though? It’s literally your job.”

He laughs softly and she tries to ignore the warmth spreading across her skin. “It can be tiring, for sure. But yeah, I love it, you know? Wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Just then, they pull into this small, unassuming diner and roll right through the drive-thru. He orders a chocolate milkshake and she gets an oreo one, and before he can think about it, she forces her credit card in his hand. He laughs and relents, and they pull out and are back on the road quickly. She sips on her milkshake and smiles to herself, not even asking where he’s driving them to next. 

(She thinks they could be anywhere and she’d still want to keep talking to him forever. He thinks that practically every worry in his life could fade away if he could look at her smile for the rest of his life)

He rolls up to one of his favorite views in Jersey of midtown Manhattan, finding an alcove and backing his car into it. Hamilton Park. They both get out and all she can do is stand there and admire the stunning view, milkshake in hand. She’s literally breathless. The last time she remembers feeling like this is when she saw the Pantheon for the first time nearing midnight with her brother when they were in Rome in 2022. She doesn’t notice him unlocking the trunk and setting up the backseat with blankets and pillows until he softly calls her name. 

(When her eyes met his, the glow of Manhattan in her eyes, he swears to this day that his heart skipped a beat. He was hers already then)

They settle into the makeshift couch, not quite touching but really freaking close. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says softly, just looking at the view. 

He hums, his eyes flickering between the view he knows too well and the girl who makes him feel better about who he is simply for just being around. It sure is. 

She lets herself admire the view silently for a minute or so more, before she can’t take it anymore. “Jack?” She asks, still looking out. 

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?” 

Wrong answer, if the unimpressed expression on her face is any indication. She nudges her knee with his. “Come on. You know exactly what I mean. What are we doing? What are we?” 

He shrugs, trying to ignore the frogs in his stomach. He should’ve known she was gonna bring it up first. She’s too smart not to. “I-I like you. Wouldn’t have chased after you if I didn’t. You-you’re amazing, you know that? I don’t think you realize how much you can just stay on someone’s mind. I know this is only our third date, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life and I like who I am when I’m around you.” 

She swallows, pausing to sip her milkshake and wiggling into the blankets. He thinks she’s adorable. “I haven’t liked someone in so long. I thought I forgot what it felt like. But then you asked me out and I see a text from you or hear you through my phone or see you on TV, and I’m like oh. I think I remember what it feels like now. It feels like this.” 

He has to take a second because oh, maybe her dreams of becoming an author aren’t just words. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She swallows again. “But I, I can’t do casual. I never have. I really, really wish I could

sometimes. So if that’s what you want, I can’t do it.” 

“What makes you think I want casual?” 

She snorts, “Because you’re a hot and talented hockey player? You can’t blame me for making the assumption.” 

“You think I’m hot?” 

Maia smacks him in the stomach. Jack laughs. She takes a breath. It’s now or never. “I just, I know you have girls in your DMs and your comments and everywhere else that are prettier and maybe could give you more of what you’re looking for or something that’s not…me.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She lets out a small noise and smiles slightly. “Thanks. But, I-I know that you have so many options. I won’t be hurt if I’m not the one you choose.”

He taps her knee so she’s paying attention and listening to his next words. “I-I’ve done casual before. I don’t think I can do that with you.” 

“You can’t? Why not?” 

“Well, A, because you don’t want to, which leads to B, I don’t want to. Not with you.” It’s his turn to swallow now as he looks at the skyline. “I really, really like you, Maia.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“All in?” 

“All in.”

“You completely sure?” She interlaces her hand in with his and raises his knuckles up to her lips. He’s utterly floored. But he’s nervous. And she can sense it. 

“Yes. I just…it’s, I’m not trying to backtrack. I mean, you’ve already seen some of it. Like, during the season, it’s intense. Game every two or three days, practice pretty much everyday, stretches of roadies and being away. I feel like, not that I doubt you or us or anything, but that’s not, I won’t be around as much as I should be. How is that fair to you?”

“Yeah, I mean, yeah. I figured that from the first day. I get it. Well, as much as I can get it. I’m sure it’s gonna be tough. I know it will be.” She squeezes his hand, leaning on his shoulder. “If you’re willing to try, then so am I.”

“You’re too good for me.”

She scoffs, grinning as he places a kiss on her temple. She places her milkshake by her side, summoning up some courage. She adjusts herself so that she’s fully facing him, and he just watches her intensely. With her white BU crewneck, a blanket around her shoulders, hair falling just past her shoulders, and the soft smile on her face, his mind goes quiet. Peaceful.  

She kisses him first. Innocently and softly, before pulling back to gauge his reaction.

He responds quickly, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips against hers again. They’re both smiling into the kiss and everything feels calm. He wraps a hand around her waist as she maneuvers her hands around his neck, playing with his hair. She’s so lost in him that she doesn’t really realize that she moves herself so that she hovers over his lap, knees on either side of his hips. He has his hands placed on her lower back.

He lets out a low groan, “Baby.”

Her brain short circuits, both at the nickname (she’s always flinched at it before, but she loves the way he says it) and the timbre of his voice, but she has enough sense to pull away. They’re both breathing heavily. “Sorry,” she breathes out, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. She closes her eyes. She needs a second. 

“Don’t be,” he says, bringing her face back up to his and brushing his thumbs on her cheek. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been wanting to do that since the minute I saw you.”

She chuckles, sliding off of him and settling into his side, staring out at the skyline again. “You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“I kinda knew if I kissed you before knowing what we were, it would be more heartbreaking if you rejected me.”

“If I rejected you?” 

“Yes.”

“In what world would I have rejected you?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad it’s not this world.”

She keeps herself from rolling her eyes, and just leans up to kiss him on the cheek. Because, you know, she can do that now. 

(That night, staring out at the stunning skyline of a city she has grown to love, with the warmth of the blankets over her legs and over her shoulder, a boy she was very quickly growing to care for deeply pressed by her side, telling her he feels the same way, she felt lifted. Free.

Unstoppable)

(When he drops her home, it’s 1:18 a.m. and she doesn’t want to get out of the car. With the way his hand has been attached to her thigh, it seems like he doesn’t want her to get out either. But he has an 11 am practice tomorrow and he just had a game. He’s exhausted. 

He kisses her once, twice, a third time before letting her go. As soon as she steps through the lobby of her apartment building and out of view, his grin practically splits his face. He smiles all the way home)

[ghostsandfools]

Okay guys. Okay. OKAY.

I just went back and watched a couple of the astral related episodes that have released in the past few months and I have a LOT to say.

I don’t think we realize how messed up the astrals truly are. Like, they seem to have noble goals and all, but oh my goodness.

Okay, lets walk through Lunar’s entire life story real quick:

The first episode of TSAMS came out on March 24, 2022. That was a little less than three years ago now. Let’s just keep that in mind.

When Lunar was created, his entire purpose was to serve Eclipse. I’ll be honest, I’m not too familiar with early TSAMS. I joined the fandom a bit late. But Lunar underwent constant emotional and sometimes physical abuse from Eclipse. He was constantly belittled, made to feel worthless, and in the end, Eclipse killed him in front of somebody he cared about. His entire purpose was to serve Eclipse, and suddenly that purpose had been taken away from him.

Lunar was remade in space, granting him the ability to use star power. Gemini then came down to Earth to evaluate if he was a threat and train him in the ways of star power. In the very first episode they appear in, Castor asks Earth to “please leave Lunar alone and stop talking to him.” Earth obviously refuses, but this interaction is still interesting. It’s strange that their first instinct was to try isolating him from his closest family.

Castor and Pollux began training Lunar and eventually becoming closer with him. Lunar was freaked out at first, and it seems like he didn’t really enjoy his training at first, but eventually it kind of took over his life. Star power was his entire purpose. And when he began to develop feelings for Gemini, it only became a bigger part of his life. His personality and goals for the future revolved completely around star power. It was his new purpose in life.

Lunar messes up a couple of times and begins to fear what will happen if he lets his power get out of control. First he attacks Bloodmoon, then kills Eclipse. Killing Eclipse was the especially interesting event here. Afterwards, Gemini makes it very clear to him how much he’s fucked up. They tell him his life could be on the line, that the other astrals want him DEAD, and they seem to be withholding their affection. They don’t spend as much time with him, saying they’re busy with his court case. Killing someone is a bad thing to do, so it makes sense for Gemini to distance themself, but I think we should remember this.

And then, it just stops. Taurus tells him that if he can’t move on from his trauma with Eclipse, he can’t continue to train.

This is detrimental to him. He doesn’t know what to do without a purpose. Eclipse abused him, but he also gave him something to do. He gave him someone to be. His entire identity was serving Eclipse. And now, he thought he had moved on from that. He had a new purpose now, to serve Gemini, to train as an astral and make everyone proud. And now he’s suddenly being told that he can’t anymore? That if he doesn’t get over his trauma (which is exceptionally difficult to do) he won’t be able to train anymore?

And so he makes a mistake. Another very big mistake. He pursues negative star power, he hurts Earth, he’s temporarily shunned by his family. It’s a big mess, he goes to jail, he’s put on trial.

And do you know what Libra does to punish him? She finds him guilty and takes away his star power.

So… This whole time. This entire time, they could’ve taken his powers away. And yet, they didn’t. Why is that? Why is it that they let someone like him, who has been shown to lose control, keep these powers?

Alright. Let’s take a look at the astrals. Let’s take a look at what they’re really doing here, because I think it’s interesting.

I’ve talked about this before, but the astrals operate like a cult.

Lunar is traumatized. He is emotionally broken and he has no idea what to do with his life. He’s just experienced death and lost his purpose in life, and now he has no idea what to do. And all of the sudden, the astrals appear.

Cults will often prey on people who are going through a rough time, as they’re much easier to manipulate and control. Not only that, but when they did appear on Earth, as I mentioned earlier, Castor asked Earth to “stop talking to Lunar” so they could evaluate if he was a threat. Cults will often isolate their victims away from their family and friends. Obviously they didn’t go through with this step, Lunar kept in contact with his family during his training, but it’s clear the astrals will use isolation as a way to control people. Remember when Nebula tried to befriend Earth and Taurus immediately scolded her for stepping out of line?

Next, they trained Lunar. They told him he’d have to leave behind this life on Earth, that he had a bigger purpose now. He wasn’t just an Earthling anymore, he was special. He could become somebody noteworthy if he trained hard enough. And they got closer to him, went on a vacation with him, spent time with him. Eventually they even pursued a romantic relationship with him.

But during this time, it was clear that they weren’t being completely honest with him. If he asked to many questions they’d say “you aren’t far enough into your training to know that yet.” They’d withhold information from him, yet another method often used by cults. They kept him enticed with the promise of something more. If he could get his emotions under control, if he was just a bit stronger, maybe Gemini would like him then. Maybe then they could be fully honest with him. Maybe then he’d be truly worthy.

They stayed committed to him. When he was in trouble, they went to court for him. They trained him diligently, stood up for him, they were always by his side. They cared for him.

And then, of course, disaster struck. They stopped training him. Lunar felt lost, he made a mistake, he had everything taken away from him. He lost his family, his friends, his partner. His entire life fell apart.

But think about why this all happened. They could’ve taken his power away. They could’ve come down to Earth, taken his powers away immediately, and been done with it all. None of this needed to happen.

I don’t think Lunar was justified when he killed Eclipse, and I don’t think it was okay for him to attack Earth either. Trauma isn’t an excuse to hurt people. But Lunar hasn’t had a break within the last two years.

First it was Eclipse, then the astrals, Bloodmoon, Nexus. He was abused every day for years, he died, he was brought back and began spiraling into depression, and then he was indoctrinated into a cult. Now he’s messing around with dark star power and getting himself into trouble.

And even now, he’s trying to be better. He’s been torturing himself, putting himself in that machine Moon made where he listens to his loved ones berate and verbally abuse him. Why? So he can impress Gemini. So he can have a purpose again.

TSAMS is the kind of show that’s meant to go on for a long time. The action has to happen FAST! But because of all the fast paced action, Lunar has been in multiple traumatic situations with no real breaks for two straight years now, and i think it’s messed up. He’s made a lot of mistakes, but he’s trying his best. I feel bad for him.