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hannie-dul-set · 26 days ago

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the ethics of belief — [p.sh].

SYNOPSIS. you’ve been noticing some signs that park sunghoon seems to have a problem with you, and you’re resolute to getting a straight confirmation or denial from him rather than taking the signs as they are and believing in the worst. it’s less troublesome that way. you’d much rather believe what he’d say than spend the remaining two and half-years mulling over something that doesn’t even matter.

meanwhile, park sunghoon also harbors his own unvoiced beliefs about you and your person. the issue arises when that belief starts to fester under the seams of certainty and doubt— a firm credence denied from the opportunity of validation.

and that’s when the belief of oneself usually starts to fall apart.

PAIRING. park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. college! au, classmates! au, strangers to one-sided enemies/academic rivals to friends to lovers to exes to [redacted], romance, angst, hurt/comfort, humor, drama, inspired by my nth reread of the manhwa “cheese in the trap.” WARNINGS. swearing, an initial unhealthy dynamic that gets better with time, misogyny, daddy issues LMAO, dishonesty, ulterior motives HUAHA, self-sabotage, talks of insecurities, so much academic dumps and word vomits, the mc’s are political science students that enough deserves a warning, more tba. WORD COUNT. est. 15-20k. preview 2.5k.

TAGLIST. i will be completely transparent and say that i may or may not even get to finish this HAHAHAH nevertheless, if you’re interested, just shoot an ask/dm/reply!

NOTE. i am.....up to something yet again HHAHAHHAHA. was really inspired to write something like this after rereading cheese in the trap!!! it took me while to decide which kpop boy i should subject to my whims this time, and idk why i even bothered mulling it over when hoon was literally the perfect fit for this perfectionist, passionate, paranoid male lead 😔😔. quite different tone than the fics i usually write (quarter life crisis time). anyhow, i hope this piques your interest! enjoy!

preview under the cut.

“YOU’RE SITTING ON THE COUCH, WHEN YOU HEAR A KNOCK. The police have arrived to arrest your spouse— for murder. This accusation comes as a total shock, but their fingerprints were found on the murder weapon. Your spouse insists they’re innocent. Should you believe your spouse, even though the evidence against them looks damning? This, class, is a classic example of an ethical dilemma.”

There is a guy from your major that you’ve recently come to notice.

“Discussed by Alex Worsnip, this question covers the ethics of belief through various lenses, including evidentialism and pragmatism—”

Well. It’s not as if you’ve never noticed him before.

“It was W.K. Clifford who coined the term the ethics of belief in his 1876 book under the same name. He forwarded the evidentialist view of belief in determining the correct, or moral, way of viewing a situation or problem�� that is, by believing things based on the evidence at hand. However, this is not the only perspective we can use to anchor our respective belief systems.”

It’s just that for the past two months you’ve known him, you’ve noticed that his behavior around you has been quite…odd, in comparison to the rest of your peers.

“Now, let us go back to the problem I’ve presented earlier. Hmm. Let’s see the attendance list—”

He was the first person you were introduced to during the pre-academic-year-get-together when you came back after spending the previous semester in a government sponsored exchange program to the U.S. In fact, it was very hard not to notice him, considering that the moment you arrived at the event— late, because you had to spend the entire day unpacking your studio the hours prior— he was a new face surrounded by a notable amount of people from your year.

And your first impression of him was simple.

“—is Park Sunghoon present?

(“This is Sunghoon! Park Sunghoon! C’mon, say hi!”

A tall, good-looking, well-off, popular guy who apparently also has a great personality. Sim Jaehyun’s introduction of Park Sunghoon seems to have maxed out on adjectives. He apparently also transferred to this program— Bachelor of Arts in Political Science— at the same time you left for your exchange program. He, after one once-over amidst the crowded scene, is someone you’ve concluded that you’re better off simply retaining as an acquaintance and a classmate because of the very adjectives Jaeyun described him with.

Popular, after only a semester of being here. Carries with him a crowd of people. That’s far too troublesome for you to voluntarily deal with.

So, for your own benefit, the smart decision is simply to never go further beyond being on polite terms with Park Sunghoon.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Ah. Yes, hi.”

“Now, don’t be awkward! Everyone already knows each other except for the both of you. You two should put in the effort to get closer.”

There’s a slight lag to Park Sunghoon’s smile. You smile back, scanning the rented venue for Kim Yeondu— closest friend since first semester and is trying to recruit you into the Strava cult— else you’d be a few minutes, few tequila shots too late from saving her from embarrassing herself on the first unofficial day of the semester. Nam Deokhwan seems to have already gotten the ball rolling and passing around drinks. Choi Nari is yelling at you three to come join for a group photo.

An exhale from you, you tighten your smile and flicker your gaze back to your new acquaintance, who looks like he’s also ready to get this awkward introduction over with. Jaeyun is the only soul in this three-person liminal space that’s even somewhat enthusiastic.

At last, Park Sunghoon extends out a hand for a shake. “Let’s get along,” he says.

“Sure,” you politely reply.)

“Present, sir.”

Your eyes trail off from your notes, all the way to the other side of the lecture hall, several seats away from you to look at the only individual standing amidst the sea of seated students. “Your spouse has been accused of murder with damning evidence.” Prof Yoon flickers the slide back to the previous one, the question printed on the projector screen. “Should you believe them or not?”

There’s a polite smile on his face— an easygoing yet comfortable air. His posture is as straight as it can get. His profile is something artists would want to transfer onto canvas. “I would believe the evidence presented against my spouse’s testimony, Professor Yoon.”

You click the end of your pen, pointing the inked tip towards the paper with a hum.

“Care to expound?”

Sitting next to you in the hall is Yeondu, who has her eyes locked straight onto Park Sunghoon as he begins his answer. “The phrasing of ‘should you believe’ them rather than would implies a moral obligation of belief. In this scenario, what I’d want to believe does not matter. Even if my spouse had been, for example, loving and kind throughout the course of our relationship, the existence of police-discovered evidence that they had committed the crime of murder would overpower any emotionally-driven feelings of belief that I’d have.” You hear her sigh a little. Dreamily even, with her elbows propped up on the table and palms cupping her cheeks. “Evidence points us towards the direction of the truth, therefore there is no question but to believe in it.”

“Jesus, I have not registered a single word he said, but fuck, he sure sounds hot as hell when he talks smart.”

You laugh a little. You’re not one to deny that Park Sunghoon is indeed smart, handsome, and has the voice of an angel. But none of those are the sources of his difference in his behavior towards you. At least, you don’t think it is.

“Very good, Sunghoon. Your take is a clear evidentialist perspective towards the dilemma.”

A prompt from your professor, Park Sunghoon nods and returns to his seat, eliciting some murmurs from everyone else around. You set down your pen. You straighten your back.

“I’d like to hear if anyone has a different answer.”

You raise a hand.

“Yes?”

All eyes are on you—

“Thank you, sir. While the evidentialist point of view might seem the most rational, I’d like to argue otherwise.”

—including Park Sunghoon’s

“I do not disagree with the moral burden of who I should believe. And in this case, I should believe my spouse. Not because of love or the fact that we are in a relationship. Regardless of the individual, the principle that everyone is presumed to be innocent until proven guilty beyond rest still stands.” You begin. You direct your attention towards Professor Yoon as you continue speaking. However, your peripheral notices something interesting. “Given that the situation is provided that the evidence is simply presented in testimony by a police officer outside the court, it is still yet to be verified and judged by the court of law. The same goes with my spouse. Therefore, until the law declares them guilty or otherwise for the crime of murder, I would choose to believe my spouse over anything.”

Park Sunghoon had been preparing to raise his hand. And he does. “May I ask her a question?” he asks. Professor Yoon nods at him to go ahead, and— when Park Sunghoon turns his head to direct his attention towards you— it fails to slip under your notice.

That annoyed look in his eyes. Bothered. Discomforted.

“Do you argue that we have the ability to choose what we believe?”

That’s the very reason why you can’t help but notice him more than you’d like.

“We have no control over the beliefs we carry. If we have that ability, then the concept of doubt would not exist, and this dilemma would not exist, either.”

Another round of murmurs arise. You nod and smile. “That’s a good point. However, I still stand with my argument.” What is up with that look of irritation? What is his problem? “We may not be able to control our beliefs at will, but our belief systems are shaped by our principles, morals, and experiences, are they not? My principles of justice alongside the experiences of a healthy and loving relationship would lead me towards believing him above anything else. This is not an argument based on emotion. Upon marriage, a moral obligation towards your spouse is conceived.”

You see him flinch. His brows furrow, a counter-argument already brewing in his mind.

“Should the time come that your spouse is indeed proven innocent, and your belief stood against them, then I’d say that you have failed your moral obligation.”

Unfortunately, the opportunity to fire it is stripped away the moment he opens his mouth. “That is a very good argument. I believe Mr Park Sunghoon has more to say, but unfortunately, we don’t have enough time to discuss things further. You two may take your seats.”

It seems like both you and Park Sunghoon get the similar idea to give each other one last glance before sitting back down. You, offering a smile and a nod of acknowledgement after sharing a fruitful discussion. Him, masking that previous expression of annoyance by mirroring yours, followed by an immediate turn around— head snapping back in front as if he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer.

Seriously. What’s up with him?

Yeondu scratches something onto your abandoned sheet of paper the moment you release a breath and sink back into your seat. Whoa, that was an intense exchange, she wrote. Pay attention, you scribble back with a soft hum. Though, you’re not exactly one to talk because although you’re looking at Professor Yoon and trying your best to listen to her talk, the recently concluded exchange with the man in front has gotten your mind wandering.

“As much as I’d like to hear discussions of other common ethical dilemmas such as the trolley problem, it seems like we only have around five minutes left for today’s class. However, this isn’t our only opportunity for discourse.”

All evidence points towards the idea that Park Sunghoon has a problem with you.

“Next week is the College Field Day, so we won’t be meeting. The week after that, we will be having a debate.”

But you’re not one to jump to conclusions. So until you get a confirmation from Park Sunghoon personally—

“Please see the screen for your groups. I will be posting the guidelines and propositions on our MIS immediately after this class, so please be guided. Once you’ve checked your groups, you may be dismissed. Thank you.”

—you’d much rather hold your suspicions at bay for the time being.

“Ah, fuck me, I’m with Deokhwan! What about you, where’s your— oh! There you are. You’re grouped with Jaeyun and—” It seems like there’s a magnet constantly pulling your vision towards one side of the lecture hall today. Park Sunghoon seems to have read the list at the same time as you did, registered the names listed, and looked over to you at the same time as you did. “Sunghoon! God damn, did Prof Yoon even randomize this? This is crazy. Thank god we’re not fighting against your group.”

At the same time as Professor Yoon takes her leave, the rest of your classmates also slowly trickle out of the lecture hall, while some have opted to remain inside. Park Sunghoon and the rest of the people surrounding him seem to have opted to leave. He already has his bag slung over his shoulder, chatting alongside Jaeyun and Nari and Jongseong and a few others.

You’re still unsure if you’re simply being sensitive, or if he does indeed have an issue with you. Quickly, you gather your things as well. Yeondu shoves her ethics book into her tote bag and locks arms with you. “Anyway, where should we eat? Jiyeon said there’s pork cutlet on the menu today.”

Uncertainties are troublesome. It gets your brain churning more often than you’d like, expending energy more inefficiently than you’d like.

“Do you mind waiting for a second?”

And you’re not very fond of troublesome things.

“I’ll go meet with my group mates first.”

So wouldn’t it make the most sense to just ask him directly?

Yeondu tells you to take it easy, but lets you off with a wave. You march up to the group moving towards the middle aisle dividing two sides of the lecture hall seating. They walk down the pitched flooring, on the way to the bottom of the hall. You cut off that opening. Park Sunghoon’s steps stutter mid-speech at your sudden appearance. Jaeyun releases a surprised whoa. “Park Sunghoon,” you greet. He blinks his widened eyes in response. “Jaeyun, too. Sorry for the interruption. Are you guys heading out for lunch? I was hoping to schedule a meeting time for us first so we could start researching for the debate.”

The initial surprise subsides in the air. Jaeyun breaks the awkward silence with a laugh. “Whoa. You’re way too diligent, dude! Prof Yoon hasn’t even posted the propositions yet.” He nudges his friend for some backup. However, Sunghoon— seeming to only have shaken off his stupor a few moments ago— agrees with you, instead.

“She’s right, Jake,” he says, nudging back his friend, and Park Sunghoon’s eyes trail away from his friend to you, a practiced, polite smile covering his face. “How about we meet later after class at the campus cafe? That way, we’d have more time to sit down for a discussion.”

“Hey, you guys can talk this out later! I’m starving!”

You notice Sunghoon’s smile stiffening for a second. Only for a brief second and you look over to the scene behind his shoulder— a group of evidently impatient and irritated friends, mostly emanating from Nari, who’s leering right at you. You ignore them. You respond to Sunghoon with an expression mirroring his own. “Sure, that’s fine with me,” you say. “My classes end at four.”

“We both finish by four-thirty!” Jayun shutters in, throwing an arm around Sunghoon’s neck, grinning widely with the conversation finally coming to an end. His gaze is already glued to the door. “Alright, we’ll see you later. C’mon, guys. Lunch, lunch, lunch!”

Jaeyun passes you by with a friendly pat on the shoulder. Jongseong nods at you and walks ahead. Among the rest of the group walking past you, you feel one of them bumping into your shoulder, by accident or otherwise, yet even that falls far under your notice in comparison to the first person that passed you by.

It was from the corner of your eye, but you’re sure that Park Sunghoon’s smile disappeared with the roll of his eyes the moment he took the step down and walked past your sight-line.

You caught that. Without a doubt.

“You done? C’mon, let’s go eat!”

Yeondu skips over to you after your mini-meeting, tugging you by the arm out the door, but your mind remains on the two levels of the lecture floor aisle. In spite of the evidence pointing towards Park Sunghoon’s masked distaste towards your person, your personality, your existence— whatever, it’s not the time to ask him about it yet.

Until then, you’ll have to table your judgements and how you intend on dealing with him.

the ethics of belief. © hannie-dul-set, 2025.

#park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon x you #sunghoon x you #park sunghoon angst #sunghoon angst #enhypen college au #sunghoon college au

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hwaslayer · 2 months ago

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the space between us three (jyh) | two.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 4.3k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, the cliché coffee incident pls forgive me lol, parents pushing expectations, honestly not much but an intro to y/n and her family - bit of a filler chap!

"Can you visit mom and dad this weekend with me?" You nibble on the rest of your ramen while you wait for your brother to respond. You're currently sitting on a table outside near the trees, taking your lunch under the shade.

"Can't. I have plans with the boys."

"Wonwoo." You sigh.

"What? I promise, I'll head up there the weekend after. You can come with if you want. Sorry. I just planned this ahead of time and can't go back on my word now."

"Fine." You sip your water and toss your trash onto your tray before standing and throwing it into the appropriate bins.

"What, has mom and dad been on you again about us not visiting?"

"Kinda, yeah? You know how they always make passive aggressive comments because we don't come to see them often." You grab another cup of coffee, taking your time mixing it with half and half and some sugar. "It's always 'you two are always too busy for your parents!' or a 'it doesn't even take long to visit your parents!'" Your younger brother sighs as you quietly hand over some cash to the mobile coffee shop attendant.

"I know, but they also don't understand we've got our own things going on, too."

"I guess, yeah." You lick your lips and take a small sip, being careful enough to not burn your tongue from the scorching temp. "We really should do better, though."

It's not that your parents were bad. In fact, your parents were amazing. They had brought up both you and your younger brother comfortably and happily, sending you both to the best schools and supporting you until you two were able to fully walk on your own two feet, soar high with your own two wings.

It truly was just life.

You had gotten busy; always working at the hospital, growing from the bottom up, barely taking any of your vacation or sick days. If you did, it was because you had to or else you'd reach your max, or because you truly were rotting away in your death bed from a bad flu or food poisoning.

Otherwise, you were always at work. You were always with your girls. You were always going to lagree or bootcamp style studio classes. You were always doing something to occupy your time— mainly work. And the same thing goes for your brother, younger than you by 2 years.

He's just a boy.

But, he's your brother and you're incredibly close to him. He was always listening, was always good growing up. Would always protect you, especially from dumb boys and fake friends. He got good grades and went to college overseas before moving back home and settling down. Since then, he's always learned how to be on his feet— barely ever staying stationary. He, too, was always out with his boys. Working as a full-time software engineer, working out. Traveling when he gets the chance. Dating every now and then. But, you do love that he's living life and spending time with good people. He seems to have a good balance between his work and personal lives, which makes you happy.

It's just unfortunate that you two can't seem to manage slipping in more time with your parents. You both had agreed to do better about it, especially with your parents getting older.

"Are you still gonna see them this weekend, or are you gonna wait for me?"

"Yeah, I'll pop in for a second. I already told them I'd swing by."

"Hm." He hums. "Tell them we'll stop by for longer next weekend."

"Yeah, after I get the earful first."

"They won't." He clears his throat. "So, how's work been? Ate lunch well?"

"Yeah, I did. Work's been kinda crazy. They're opening this new department at the main hospital and it's expanding into the pediatrics side, too. We've been gearing up for it."

"Oh, really?" You nod as if your brother can see you.

"Yeah. They've been working with adult patients for their two studies, but they're going to start their pediatrics study soon. Pending on the IRB approval. But, once that's all good, they're hoping to secure their first patient, and we need to have everything ready to go."

"That's pretty cool."

"It is, but kinda hectic. Too many moving parts and people involved. It's a lot to keep up with."

"I'm sure you'll handle it well. You always do." You let out a small sigh before checking your watch and slowly walking back towards the peds hospital.

"Hope so. Work's been okay for you?" He chuckles.

"Same old! Nothing much has changed. Not like that, anyway."

"I see. So, what happened to that one girl you were seeing recently?"

"Uh, we're just better off as friends."

"Better keep that to yourself before mom starts setting you up on blind dates."

"Same goes for you. She'd probably go for you first. Been tryna marry you off." You roll your eyes.

"It's not my priority and she doesn't get that."

"She wants a grand baby and lowkey, I kinda want a nephew or niece to spoil, too."

"You're no help." He snorts. "Anyway, I gotta head back to my office and get some work done, I got a big meeting for that new department later today."

"Alright. Well, text me when you get home and try to take it easy."

"I will, you too, punk." Wonwoo chuckles. "Love you."

"Love you too!" And with that, the call ends. Your eyes are glued to your phone as you continue to walk back towards the hospital. The weather isn't too bad today, a slight breeze hitting your skin to balance out the warmth from the sun. You continue to switch between keeping your eyes in front, back down to your phone as you scroll through social media to catch up to things you've missed over the past few hours. When you finally get into view of the familiar building and the side lobby entrance, you slip in and head straight to the elevator without paying much attention— especially when it dings and slides the doors open for the individual behind to step out. You feel a soft thud; your body slightly coming into contact with theirs, causing some of your coffee to spill out of the opening on the lid.

"Oh— oh shit, I'm so sorry!" You look at the tall figure, wide-eyed as you survey his outfit to make sure your coffee didn't spill everywhere on his jacket.

"You're good." He says, eyes coming down to his jacket. There's a few drops of coffee dripping down near the zipper, but nothing that can't be fixed.

"I'm soooo sorry." You repeat as you dab a napkin at his jacket.

"No, seriously. It's fine. You're good." He laughs, brushing you off in a friendly manner. "Nothing laundry can't fix."

"Still another piece to add to your load." You look up at him and slightly pout. "Sorry."

"Maybe just be careful next time?" He gives you a small smile before he brushes past and out of the elevators. You realize he's got his large hand still propped up to prevent the elevator doors from closing on you, and you can't help but feel extra embarrassed. You do a tiny nod before he lets out a small chuckle and walks away, allowing you to be in your peace as you slip into the elevator and watch the doors close in front of you.

It just had to be him.

you: i almost spilled my coffee on a really cute guy ☹️

wonwoo: he'll def never come near you again. way to go sis 💗

you: you're a piece of shit

wonwoo: 🥰

You click your teeth and sigh as you step out of the elevator and onto your floor. You had been working as project manager supporting the pediatrics unit for about a year and a half now, starting at the hospital a few years ago as an admin associate and slowly working your way up.

"What? What's wrong, hun?" Your coworker and also one of your childhood bestfriends, Noeul, chimes in. She works as an HR manager, but her team sits nearby— giving you two the numerous opportunities to chit-chat and catch up in between meetings and tasks.

"I almost spilled my coffee on some really cute guy." She purses her lips together before giving you a toothless smile.

"I mean, you didn't, right?"

"No. Maybe a few drops. Now he'll have another piece of laundry to add to his load. All because of me."

"That's a good way to be memorable." You sigh. "I'm sure he wished he got your number."

"Wow, you're the complete opposite of my brother and I love that." She laughs.

"Of course, I'll always support you."

"How'd your meeting go?" She shakes her head.

"I don't know. So many sensitive issues. I think they only keep escalating and getting worse."

"Are you still dealing with that one manager and her staff member that weren't getting along?"

"Yup. That's exactly the thing that's getting worse."

"Sheesh. I hope they find middle ground soon, or at least find new avenues so they don't have to work with each other."

"Hope so too!" She looks at you. "When's your big meeting with the hospital people?"

"Hm." You hum and check your watch. "In the next hour." You settle at your desk and she follows along, sitting on the edge of the corner. "My inbox blew up over lunch so I gotta take care of a few things before I head over." You sip on your coffee.

"My busy bee." You give her a look. "Goodluck! Let me know how the meeting goes. I've gotta file a few reports and hop into a few other meetings myself. I'll see you later for a quick break?" You give her a small smile.

"Goodluck to you, too." She blows you a little kiss before she's prancing away to her desk, greeting people on the way over. You busy yourself before you need to start packing up and heading over to the main hospital, drowning in a few urgent emails that came in over your lunch break. Time sure flies when your brain is scattered everywhere, your to-do list seemingly never-ending and tossing you in a million different places at once.

You gather your things about 10 minutes before the meeting, which, doesn't give you much wiggle room in case you get lost. You don't go to the main hospital often, and you're not even sure if you have access to the room or how all of this would work. You are familiar with a few people also attending the meeting, but they're equally just as busy and are probably coming from other commitments.

You let out a small breath as you power walk over to the main hospital, happy you're at least getting your steps in for the day. You trickle into the huge lobby along with others, turning towards the left where the elevators are located. You press the button, waiting alongside a visitor as the elevator makes its way down from the 6th floor. You step in and patiently wait off to the side, checking your work calendar on your phone to make sure the meeting was indeed today.

Why does it feel like you're the only one heading over?

Were you the only one late at this point?

You step out of the elevator once you make it up to the 7th floor, pausing in your steps because— where the fuck do you go now? It was such a maze in this hospital, you didn't know whether to go left or right; the numbers on the doors skipping from one number to another. You turn to you right just because you go with your gut, hearing a trail of soft voices as you finally see a group of people heading towards a huge conference room further down [and definitely closer to your left had you just turned that way]. You pick up your pace, nodding and sending soft smiles to the familiar faces that catch you through the window of the room as they settle into their seats. Rushing over, someone is stationed at the door— probably waiting for you to make it inside.

"Thank you— oh, hi." You look up at the same, tall figure you damn near spilled your entire cup of coffee on.

"Hi." He gives you a toothless smile as he holds the door open for you. "Well, at least you aren't ramming into me with your cup of coffee this time." He jokes and you can't help but feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

"Yeah, mm'sorry about that still." You wince and slightly pout.

"I'm just joking. No worries. It happens." He smiles down at you, waiting for you to walk into the conference room. You give him another subtle, short bow before slipping into a chair on the opposite side of the table. You watch as he greets people coming into the room, a bit confused as to why he's still standing by the door until he finally sees the face he's been looking for.

He's got some kind of wit, some charm. Can't deny it's pretty attractive.

And to your surprise, he plops down in the seat next to you, followed by one of his team members [the said face he'd been looking for] you assume.

"Hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all." He gives you another toothless smile before eyeing your badge.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He puts out a hand for you to shake. "Yunho."

"Nice to meet you as well, Yunho." You shyly respond. "At least I don't have to call you the guy I almost spilled all my coffee on anymore."

"Yeah, no." He laughs. "This is Taehyun, my team lead. Taehyun, Y/N." You and Taehyun give each other small, curt bows just as the higher ups step in and settle at the front of the room.

"Hey everyone! Thanks for meeting. I know everyone is super busy so it's much appreciated." Yoori says as she flips her laptop open and pulls up the agenda slide on the powerpoint presentation. The meeting kicks off with small introductions around the table since a lot of people hadn't worked together like this, especially you and a select others mainly supporting pediatrics. When Yunho introduces himself, you find yourself enjoying the way he speaks. He's got a deep tone, but nothing off-putting. He speaks lightly and positively, chuckling in between statements.

Yeah, he's def got a witty charm to him.

When it's your turn to speak, you can feel Yunho's eyes from the side. He's paying attention and listening closely even if these are quick introductions to the team. He notices the way you shyly smile at those around you, still managing to speak clearly and concisely despite your nervousness that's physically manifesting in the way that your hands tug on the material of your jeans, fiddling with your fingers underneath the table in between the conversation.

Cute.

Then, after the light, airy introduction portion, the presentation gets a lot more technical, and you find that you're actually more involved in this than you expected. You're being asked to oversee the development of the clinical trial room in the pediatric wing, along with scheduling biweekly meetings to discuss updates. Making sure all required attendees are at the meetings and driving things forward. Coordinating across calendars, providing updates every step of the way.

And things seem to be picking up, moving real fast. Things were stalled and slow just a few months ago; now, it's all gas, no brakes.

When it comes to dealing with the ordering structure and IT developments, Yunho takes the lead and discusses the current updates and how they're still figuring out a few tweaks. Yoori is diligently taking notes on her own laptop, along with everyone else who is clarifying through questions of their own.

"Y/N, can you please work with Yunho and his team and the clinical informatics team to make sure the patient ordering enhancements will be taken care of and pushed through? Along with securing the data storage and network? I'll send you the list of required attendees that need to be at each meeting to help push these efforts forward. Let's prioritize this and try to get that done within the next week." You nod, glancing over to Yunho afterwards. He's got his chin resting on the palm of his hand and his eyes dart down to you. His brows perk up before he gives you a tiny, toothless smile. You feel your hands get sweaty from the look alone, so you divert your attention back to your laptop— typing up the rest of your notes on the side. Yunho can't help but glance over at your incredibly organized notes and the way your emails are categorized; all the folders within folders.

Never-ending folders.

Definitely Type A.

He does like that, though. Can't help but feel a little endeared by it.

As the hour long meeting progresses, you feel yourself getting slightly overwhelmed by your growing task list. You can't help but feel an itch to get to your desk to scribble in your planner and get your thoughts organized.

And as soon as the meeting ends, you cut out with quick goodbyes before rushing over to your office. Yunho was hoping to catch you afterwards to talk a little more, but he watches as you leave, the opportunity now a long gone thought.

"Where'd you go?" Sian, your other good friend, asks. She's in the finance department, and typically comes over to check in with you and Noeul, especially when she has to drop off some mail for the peds hospital. "You and Noeul were both gone."

"I had that meeting, remember?"

"Oh shit, yeah. How'd it go?"

"I don't know." You plop onto your desk and let out a huff, pulling your planner from your bag before pulling up your notes in the cloud on your desktop computer. "So many things to do and everything feels so urgent." You've already got a few people to meet, along with pushing the operational aspect of this huge project. You've got your hands tied.

"Wow, they're moving fast with this."

"Yeah, very." You shake your head as you write out your thoughts, suddenly pausing to look back up at her as she fiddles with the figurines on your desk. "Hey, do you know the IT managers well?"

"Most of them, yeah."

"Do you know Yunho?"

"Jeong Yunho?" You shrug since you didn't really catch his badge on him. "He's the only Yunho I know of. How could you not know him?"

"Girl, I'm mostly on the peds side, I rarely come to that end." You giggle.

"He's handsome as hell. Tall. Super nice and helpful. Him and his team are so good about coming to the rescue ASAP." Sian nudges you and wiggles her eyebrow. "He's a single dad. I believe his daughter is 10? 11? Probably 11."

"Mm, dad of a pre-teen girl."

"Hey. He's making it." Sian shrugs. "Heard he's a really good father despite losing his wife years ago. I'm sure it must have been incredibly hard." You nod.

"Yeah, I can only imagine."

"He's good friends with Park Seonghwa from marketing. I think they're besties or something." You nod.

"I only know Seonghwa from the one interview I did with him when we did the remodeling project at the peds oncology unit. After that, barely have spoken a word to him."

"He's a little hottie, too. But, I heard he's got a thing going on with Yoori."

"Yoori? Like.. Director Yoori?" Sian nods.

"They're so weird about it, though. Definitely not known publicly, but people have seen them out together a select few times. Or, seeing Seonghwa go to her house."

"Nosey." You laugh.

"Well, it's definitely a small world around here."

"Hm." You hum. "So interesting, especially after I just saw her. I would have never suspected."

"What about Yunho, though?"

"First, I almost spilled my coffee on him this morning." Sian nods.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"I'm not that clumsy."

"Mmkay." Sian laughs. "How much coffee?"

"A few drops." You make a face. "And then he ended up being in the meeting and sitting right next to me."

"See, big hospital but small world." You chuckle.

"Feels like college."

"Yeah."

"Speaking of Yunho." You furrow your brows when you see a little notification pop up in your Slack app.

yunho: hey!

you: hi there! you found me!

yunho: 😀 sorry, i tried to catch you after the meeting but you rushed out.

you: oops, yeah. i just had a few things to catch up on.

yunho: all good! do you wanna schedule some time to meet before scheduling the wider meeting with everyone else? i can walk you through everything so we're on the same page.

you: sure, yeah! that'd be helpful. i'm pretty free next week. i just prefer not to schedule anything over lunch if it can be helped. 😅

yunho: i'm the same, don't trip. lol. i'll send you an invite for early next week. what time do you get in usually?

you: mm, around 7:30-8am.

yunho: hm, wanna do 10am on monday then?

you: good with me. ☺️ thank you, yunho!

yunho: sure thing!

"Aw, he even went out of his way to message you." Sian watches you exchange messages from behind.

"Girl, please? We need to talk about getting the patient ordering system together and fixing all the infrastructure for the peds unit."

"Sounds like you'll be working with him closely? I'm actually kinda surprised his team is on this. Not saying they aren't great, but they're a bit smaller and support other departments." Sian ponders for a bit. "The other IT teams are pretty swamped though, now that I think about it. They probably have the best bandwidth right now."

"Who knows. But, yeah. I guess so. His team lead was also there."

"Maybe you'll get close to Yunho."

"Maybe I won't and just get my job done while minding my own business."

"Y/N. You're single and he's single, don't be so quick to cut him off just because he has a kid. You should put yourself out there again." She teases and you roll your eyes.

"Get out." She snorts. You hate that she's a little right about it; it had been awhile since you were in a serious relationship. You might've messed around with an old college classmate a few times, but it was so casual it ended up fizzling out all by itself and that was that. It's not like you had any bad relationships, either. They just weren't a fit, but you didn't hold any bad blood towards each other. Your mom was tired of it, though. She was hoping you'd finally stay in a serious, committed relationship— one where you'd end up walking down the aisle, settling down in a nice family home, one or two little ones running around [or more, she wouldn't be mad about it]. Maybe that's why you also dread visiting home, because she never fails to remind you that she's waiting, and that time doesn't wait for anyone. She gives Wonwoo a piece of it, too.

Just not as much as you.

It's always this game of comparison, trying to one-up her friends in some fashion. It's frustrating to deal with. She didn't understand that you were good with where you were at. And even if you did long for a partner and affection in that sense, it's not like you could wish for it to happen and change your life overnight. These things take time. These things need to develop naturally, wholeheartedly, genuinely;

It wasn't your time yet, you guess.

"Anyway, are we still having our little girls night at your place tomorrow?"

"Mhm. Just gotta visit my parents first then I'm all yours."

"Ah." She nods. "Is your brother coming along?"

"Nope. Next weekend, though."

"Goodluck, sweets. Tell us all about it when we come over." Sian looks at her watch. "I was gonna try to wait for Noeul, but I guess she got caught up in some things. I should head back." You nod. "See you tomorrow, my love."

"See you." She smiles before giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze and turning on her heel to take her walk back over to the main hospital.

As the afternoon rushes by, you're able to dock off a few more things on your list before feeling satisfied enough to call it a day. You decide you're a little too tired and worn out to be driving elsewhere for food, so you'll pop into the main hospital cafeteria.

wonwoo: did you spill your coffee on anyone else today?

you: no 🫥

wonwoo: [sends money]

wonwoo: go get a massage or something dude, relax

you: are you serious?!

wonwoo: yeah. 🙄 got a lil bonus from work, so if i'm eatin, you eatin too i guess.....

you: best brother award 😭

wonwoo: u don't mean it

you: i do!!! ily!!! 💕 i'll never call you bighead again!

wonwoo: yeah u def don't mean it

You giggle to yourself, feeling comforted by your brother even at a distance. The thing about your relationship with Wonwoo is that you two were always sharing in each other's ups and downs— good days, bad days. There was never any competition or need to feel like one had to do better than the other, thankfully; and this was a prime example of how close you and your brother were. You truly can't wait to hang out with him next week. You adore him to bits.

As you head back to the main hospital to grab food for dinner before leaving for the day [you definitely prefer the food there], you catch Yunho speaking to one of the nurses on her way out. She's blushing, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear while she laughs. Yunho looks nervous, but he's keeping himself pretty composed by the way he's smiling and laughing along with her. You brush past them quickly, and you aren't sure if Yunho noticed you or not— not like it matters, anyway.

He was definitely asking her out. And by the looks of it, she said yes. She had been wanting to say yes for awhile.

Welp, there goes the really cute guy you spilled coffee on.

It wasn't your time yet, you guess.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months ago

Text

wake up and smell the ozone, guys

[ Sebek and internalized racism / Sebek and his place in the Diasomnia found family / Sebek and his capacity to love / Sebek and the love of literature ]

wake up Wake Up WAKE UP

DO YOU REALIZE WHAT'S GOING ON??? ? ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? ? BECAUSE I'LL TELL YOU, I'LL TELL YOIU WHAT 'S GOING O N

Do you remember... Lilia's farewell party????? In 7-34, he takes us aside and says this: "Then if you truly wish to repay me, would you indulge a little request of mine? There's a freshman in our dorm, Sebek Zigvolt... It's been half a year since he started here, but I have yet to see him make any friends in the freshmen class. [...] I wouldn't ask [you to be friends with him]. Just... If you notice he's ever stuck at some point during your time here... I would ask that you card soldiers give him a little nudge."

When Sebek runs over shortly after with berry juice for Lilia, Lilia invites him to toast with his fellow first years (Ortho included): "These people will be your rivals and classmates until you graduate. You should take this chance to bond with some students from other dorms."

Of course, Sebek adamantly refuses to do so at that point in the story. "While I appreciate your consideration, I haven't the slightest intention of being friendly with these shallow people. [...] I already have more than enough training partners between Silver and our fellow Diasomnia students. Feeble humans are naught by deadweight! There's no need to be chummy with them!"

We are now well into book 7's Heartslabyul update and it is only now that I realize WE'RE FULFILLING LILIA'S REQUEST FROM ALL THE WAY BACK THEN IN 7-34.

Firstly, Sebek is already having his entire worldview shaken because he is exposed to the terror hie liege, his idol, Malleus, has brought about. The person he dedicated his life to and worked so hard to better himself for is misusing his powers to force his will upon others, including his own retainers. And then Sebek is given a taste of his own medicine when he meets a younger version of his grandfather in Lilia's dream. Baur calls his own grandson "human" and acts suspiciously towards him because of Sebek's race (refusing to trust him, refusing to eat food he prepared, etc.). Sebek, who is hateful and others non-fae, is now the one receiving hate and being othered by the grandfather that he loves and admires. He is experiencing the discomfort with being the target of the behaviors that he himself engages in irl. These two events are challenging Sebek's beliefs and how he sees the world. He's being forced to recognize that Malleus isn't perfect, and how it feels to be persecuted and rejected on the basis of one's race.

Sebek is taken aback by the attitude of dream!Baur and doesn't exactly know how to react (though he continues to act in ways to try and earn his grandfather's praise). Silver has to intervene and remind Sebek that, in real life, Baur doesn't despise him and to not let this get to him--but it's clear that this experience still bothers Sebek, as he grumpily responds with the usual DONT BELITTLE ME, OF COURSE I KNOW THAT tsundere response. Many of the other events Sebek experiences in Lilia's dream also call into question the nature of racial relationships, and, at times, puts Sebek in the shoes of the one defending the partnership between humans and fae. For example, some Silver Owls demand to know why we're siding with the fae, and Sebek declares back that whether human or fae, it doesn't matter because at the end of the day, they fight against those with bad intentions.

When we finally transition into the dream hopping segment of book 7, I noticed that Sebek has very targeted interactions with specifically the first-year characters--the very same group that Lilia asked to help him out if he ever gets stuck. For example:

Sebek spends a prolonged period of time in Lilia's dream with Silver (a human he does like), Yuu, and Grim (two newcomers that he has to get adjusted to). Together with them, he unravels an unspoken about part of his country's history. It's kind of like traumabonding/j

Sebek relies on the technomantic support of Idia and especially Ortho (who helps them navigate to new dreams in combination with Silver's UM). He has to acknowledge that this is a specialty of Ignihyde and not something that he, a student of Diasomnia and a first year, could achieve on his own. It humbles Sebek and forces him to depend on others instead of trying to brute force the task by himself. He's physically INCAPABLE of doing so.

In Epel's dream, he appears very tall and muscular. However, Sebek chides Epel and recalls that, at Lilia's farewell party, Epel was praising Lilia because although Lilia has a similarly small stature, he never once failed to be at Malleus's side. Back then, Lilia had told Epel that physical prowess has nothing to do with a mage's strength. Later on, Sebek even praises Epel's style of fighting despite Epel being a first year. Moreover, Epel has a 70-80% success rate at casting his UM--which shocks Sebek, who has not yet mastered his own. Here, he is learning that humans that present as small and weak can actually be formidable fighters with skill that surpasses his own. This is notable because Sebek often pushes himself to train hard physically and mentally to be the best possible retainer and may have insecurities about being a magical late bloomer.

In Jack's dream, Sebek makes a big fuss about the injustices Diasomnia suffered back in book 2 due to Savanaclaw's nasty plot. He makes it clear that he won't forgive them even now--but then Jack says it's understandable given that his dorm members were playing so dirty. Sebek expresses surprise that "there are people like Jack" in Savanaclaw. He's acknowledging that even in a dormitory that Sebek had previously pegged as all underhanded ruffians, there are people who have a moral compass and go against the grain. After all, Jack was the whistleblower in that incident and still to this day realizes their actions were wrong. This shows Sebek that not all members belonging to a group are the same.

In Deuce's dream, Sebek and Deuce bond over books. Deuce shares happy memories that he has with a popular children's book from the Queendom, and this inspires Sebek to want to read the book irl. He also suggests that Deuce pick out or recommend a book for Yuu and Grim, which is similar to what Sebek does for his own loved ones (like Silver). Here, he is sharing his interests with a non-fae in a sort of cultural exchange.

Update: In Ace's dream, Sebek butts heads with Ace in an attempt to rouse him from his dream. Ace resists and counters by saying he doesn't want to listen to someone who looks down on others. He honestly points out Sebek's character flaws. Ace also mentions that Malleus should accept the consequences of his actions, which could also apply to Sebek, as Sebek's attitude has made a lot of his peers dislike him. After Ace departs, Sebek is faced with this question from Ortho: if it was not Malleus responsible for their circumstances, would he really be trying as hard as he is to stop him? Sebek cannot give a proper response to this. By attacking his flaws and how his overly proud nature makes others dislike him, Sebek is being forced to face and reflect upon his weaknesses in character. Furthermore, in Riddle’s dream, Sebek is able to accept responsibility for jumping to conclusions (assuming Ace would betray him) that he makes the decision to sacrifice himself to clear the way for Ace and the others to run. Prior to book 7, Sebek would NOT stick his neck out like this for anyone but Malleus. HE’S GROWN SO MUCH.

I know I've critiqued the pacing of book 7 a lot (particularly when it comes to the dream segments), but I find it really ironic that, of all characters, Sebek is the one with the most spread-out character arc... Lilia's and Silver's arcs were mainly crammed into Lilia's dream, we haven't seen Malleus for several tends of chapters now (so he only ends up being present in the beginning and end of the book), and then you have Sebek pacing himself in this marathon 🤡 even though Sebek is also the one in Diasomnia that's the most in a rush to "grow up" and "be better" (so much so that even his UM is associated with wanting to quickly rush to someone and/or to be immediately stronger).

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kumkaniudaku · 7 days ago

Text

Just For You

Summary: Terry and Patrice give each other lasting nicknames.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

"Terrence and Patrice, you're married. Any objections?"

None from Terry. A few from Patrice, but what was new? She always had objections. Ms. Cole answered each of her star pupil's questions in extreme detail before sending the pair home as a fictional married couple exploring the semester's section on personal finance.

It was Terry's idea for them to work together on the weekend at his house, citing weekday football practices as too much of a hindrance to after-school instructional time. His sophomore year came with another growth spurt to a towering 6'1", and he couldn't let the new length or extra muscle go to waste. The fight for starting receiver had only just begun.

Patrice hated falling behind. The thought of letting days pass without tracking toward their project's completion ate away at her. She allowed Terry to have his way, but under one condition: they'd work all morning on Saturday to knock things out in one day.

He scrunched his face and ran a hand over his haircut. "Patrice, that's a lot. We can't stretch it to two days?" He thought again for a better solution when she started to open her mouth with a rebuttal. "What if we talked on the phone and finished up Sunday night! Then you only have to leave home once!"

"Take it or leave it, Terrence. One day or a little bit every day after your practice."

With Saturday morning SportsCenter's top five clips playing on the television while they sat beside each other, their feet and legs jutting out from beneath his mother's coffee table, it was clear he'd taken the offer with a few concessions. Highlights stayed on during homework.

Patrice sat still and quiet while she watched Terry twirl a pencil between his fingers and squint at the instructions on their project syllabus. Late morning sunlight streaming through the living room window brought out the honey color in his eyes, her favorite part of the blue-green pieces of art she pretended not to sneak glances at when they spent time together. His brows furrowed to create little ripples at the center of his forehead. Three. She always counted them when he made his focused face.

If anyone didn't know him, he'd look like an intimidating man at least five years his senior. But Patrice knew Terry was mostly a gentle giant. He spoke softly as if the sound of his own voice was scary, opened doors, laughed on occasion, and remained polite day to day. Compared to the other boys in his grade, Terry was a saint—a saint slowly creeping his way into Patrice's day-to-day thoughts.

Terry's shoulder brushed against Patrice's as he shifted on the floor, making her shuffle further away to avoid the goosebumps populating her forearm. Terry glanced over, concern replacing the focus in his eyes. "You okay? Did I hit you?"

"No, I just didn't wanna be so deep in your space." Partially true. The why was her secret to keep.

Terry shrugged. "It's cool. You're not bothering me." She never was. If he were honest, Terry wished she would bother him more. Come over more, show up to more games, and stay on the phone a little later when he called under the guise of missing notes from class, knowing the only thing he missed was her voice. He scooched closer to her, leaving a sliver of space between them. "So, I think you're the breadwinner in this scenario. Sixty-thousand a year ain't half bad. You must be a professor or something. Talkin' them students' heads off, I'm sure."

"Shut up," Patrice laughed as she elbowed his side. "You aren't far behind! Your $45k gets us to a combined $105k. That's more money than I've ever seen."

Her compliment of his pretend income pulled a closed-mouth smile from Terry. "Yeah, well, how do we spend it? Says here we need to budget our combined monthly income between bills, discretionary spending, and savings." Quick mental math helped him tally their post-tax income. "That's $3,204 bi-weekly. Just under $7000 a month. I think we can handle that."

"Let's start with housing and work from there?"

"I'm following your lead."

One hour of hard work and bickering netted the play couple one outcome they could agree on. Terry thought it'd be best for them to choose a modest three-bedroom dwelling with a low mortgage to fit their housing needs and free up funds for two cars. Though Patrice wanted a bigger backyard for her garden, she relented when her mate pointed out she'd get the better car and a summer vacation if they were wise with their monthly spending. One night out a week, $500 a month in "fun funds," and a strict savings schedule left them more than enough money in their reserve to consider children in their plan.

Brain fog stemming from a quietly growling belly made Patrice stretch her arms high about her head and whine. "Can we take a break? I'm a little hungry."

"I can make you something!" Hearing the extra eagerness in his own voice felt like a punch to the throat for Terry. Embarrassment had him scaling back to save face. "It's just a PB&J. You don't want me using the stove. Or you can wait 'til my mom gets home. She usually does crawfish on the weekends."

"Shoot, let's do both! I've never had crawfish before."

Not ever having crawfish was a cardinal sin in Terry's household. If his parents found out Patrice had been living a life without experiencing their family specialty, she'd be forced to camp out until every piece of corn, sausage, potato, and crustacean was consumed. Terry logged the reference in the back of his mind for later use as he made his way into the kitchen.

While Terry focused on the even spreads of peanut butter and jelly on his mama's "good" bread, Patrice took her time mosying around the large living room to acquaint herself with her surroundings.

Expensive trinkets and books she'd never read lined the cubby spaces on one side of their large wooden entertainment center. On the other, family photos told the Richmond family's story. At the top, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond posed in formal attire with big smiles to celebrate what Patrice assumed was their wedding day. Another shelf featured photos of twin girls with encased baby booties in the middle. She smiled at their big afro puffs and chocolate-covered faces while they enjoyed dessert at Disney World. Then, she spotted it. Perched on a stack of photo albums, a little boy decked in Spider-Man gear from head to toe stretched himself in the hero's signature squat. But those eyes were unmistakable. Little Terrence was clearly on a mission to save the world. Or his backyard, at the very least.

In awe of how cute Terry looked as a kid playing make-believe, Patrice reached out to grab the frame for a closer look. That was him, alright. Terry still had the same toothy grin that crinkled his nose at the bridge and made his eyes close from the rise of his cheeks. Ears too big for his body stood out even more than they did ten years later. He may have been smaller in stature and much more upbeat than the brooding teenager in the other room, but after a year of friendship and a little secret pining, she could recognize him anywhere.

Immersion disarmed Patrice's senses, giving Terry ample space and opportunity to sneak up on her. "That's funny?" His voice cut through the silence, making Patrice jump and turn to catch the sly smile on his face. "That was my fifth birthday. I can't remember why I didn't get a party, but I guess I still had fun that day."

"It's cute," Patrice complimented. "I didn't know they made masks for little kids with adult-sized heads."

Payback from her jab tasted perfectly sweet on her tongue, like her Nana's homemade apple pie. Patrice watched Terry roll his eyes and shake his head before pulling the glass photo frame from her hands and placing it back in its rightful spot.

He pretended to laugh along before kissing his teeth. "Come get this sandwich before I change my mind, girl."

Terry would never change his mind, no matter how hard he tried to pretend or fight back the smile revealing his top row of teeth. Patrice had a free license to pick with him, and, on occasion, he'd join in to further solidify their friendship.

Lighthearted rounds of the dozens meandered into winding conversions dominated by Patrice's favorite secret chatterbox. He ran through team drama a mile a minute, only taking breaks to chew and ask her intentions for the remaining pretzels on her plate. She granted him permission to clean up her portion and his if it meant he'd keep talking.

"So, you like orange?" His abrupt change in subject turned Patrice's passive listening into active confusion. He pointed at the scrunchie on her wrist to clarify. "The color, I mean. I noticed you wear it all the time. I was just wondering if it's your favorite."

Patrice fiddled with the ponytail holder, looking for anything to keep her from making eye contact with Terry. Knowing she was being watched excited and terrified her with equal intensity. "Um, yeah. It is."

"How come?"

"I don't know, really. I think because of how the sky turns orange when the sun's going down in the summertime. That's always been pretty to me." Terry committed the information to memory with a quick head nod, letting awkward silence scream into Patrice's ear until she forced out a follow-up question. "What about you? What's your favorite color?"

Terry thought for a moment. "Blue, mostly. But like Carolina blue. If you get too dark, it's like the Patriots, and I hate the Patriots."

"Dang. Soooo, no tickets to see Tom Brady for our fun money, huh?"

"Well, I ain't say all that!"

Stomach-busting laughter derailed all thoughts of returning to the second half of their assignment. Instead, they chose to take a nose dive into each other's likes, dislikes, and anything in between. Terry had to know Patrice's birthday for…research purposes.

She scribbled the date on his mother's wall calendar. "April 23rd, remember? Shakespeare's birthday!"

Fitting. Terry stored the date away in the section of his brain reserved for important things like stats and Lil Wayne lyrics for good this time.

"What's your favorite food?"

"My maman's étoufée," Terry answered, whistling from the memory of last Thanksgiving. "I can't wait to go visit next month!"

How Patrice wished to visit with him and experience even the smallest taste of the dish, brightening his smile more than she'd ever seen before.

Back and forth they went while time morphed into more of an abstract concept than a rule governing the physical world. Terry's favorite film? Remember the Titans. An obvious answer for obvious reasons, but Patrice loved to hear his explanation anyway. Patrice's plans for her future career? A teacher, high school English more specifically. And, if she found the time, she'd get her PhD and teach other teachers how to teach one day. Her commitment to learning and school was admittedly odd to Terry, but still, he found her passion for it magnetic.

In their own world, Patrice and Terry were free to be themselves in every imperfect way. Nothing was too nerdy or too weird to discuss. And, if it got close, they knew to keep each other's secrets.

Gathering plates for cleanup, Terry rattled off his umpteenth question. "What's your middle name? Wait! Can I guess?" Patrice smiled and pushed for him to take his best shot. "You look like a Nicole."

"No way! How'd you guess that?"

"Every Black girl's middle name is Nicole. Or Marie. It was a 50/50 chance."

"It was a 50/50 chance," Patrice mocked before kissing her teeth. "What's yours? Michael?"

Terry smirked at her attempt to get him back. "Nope. It's James. Me and my dad have the same one."

"I guess that's kinda cool." Curiosity turning the wheels in Patrice's head robbed her of seeing Terry trying to hide his smile and reddening ears from her view. "Do people ever call you TJ, or is it always Terrence or Terry?"

Hardly anyone called him Terrence. His full first name was his mother's go-to when he was in trouble. In school, teachers faithfully called him what existed on the roll sheet. But, those closest to his heart knew him as Terry and nothing else. The divide between Terrence and Terry was his way of telling friends from foes. TJ, though, was new and interesting.

Thinking for a couple of seconds yielded no results. "Nah, I don't think so. You can have dibs if I give you one."

Decisions decisions. Alternate names gifted by little boys never went well for Patrice. Four Eyes, Girl Urkel, and Stilts still haunted her well past elementary and middle school. The potential fallout from another botched nicknaming debacle wouldn't deter her from having something special between them.

"Fine," Patrice relented, grumbling enough to pull a laugh from Terry. "But nothing about my physical appearance. Or food-related. Or downright mean. Or Pat. I hate Pat."

Her heavy southern twang exaggerated all of her demands, eliciting a laugh from Terry as he shook his head. "You know, usually, people don't get that much say in their nicknames. It's kinda the whole point."

"Yeah, well, this ain't one of them time, so tread lightly."

Terry lifted his hands in surrender, not wanting to squander his opportunity to deepen their connections. If rules existed around what he could and could not call her, so be it. "What about…P," he prosed after a few seconds. "Short and simple."

"And unfortunately already taken by my mama. Try again."

"Patty? Like LaBelle. Y'all both kinda mean but in a cool, old lady way."

Patrice's annoyed eye roll sharply contrasted with Terry's impish grin. Payback was officially his again.

"Terry, I swear! Be serious!"

Relenting, he tossed out another option. "Okay, okay," he laughed. "For real this time. How does Treece sound? Just the second part of your name." Terry watched her mull over the idea, his smile growing when she offered no immediate rebuttal. He nudged her shoulder and smiled when she forced a sour expression. "Nah, you like it! Treece! Treecey! Big Treece!"

Listening to Terry rattle off variations of her newly minted nickname, the sound from his lips sounding like her mother asking who wants a second helping of ice cream or Usher singing to her and her alone through her radio's speakers.

"You know we sound like twins now, right? TJ and Treece?"

"That's what we should name the kids."

Missing context caused an invisible record to scratch, forcing Terry to quickly correct himself. Kids? They'd just reached good friend status. Patrice opened her mouth to question Terry, but he beat her to the punch with an explanation.

He emphatically waved his hands in front of him, trying to sweep the misstep into the ether. "For the project! I meant kids for the project!"

"Right!" The project. Duh. Patrice tried to recover cooly from what she was sure looked like utter panic with a dash of hopefulness on her face. "The kids from the project. Which –"

"We should get back to. It's gettin' late. Unless you stayin' for crawfish tonight?"

Dancing eyebrows and an irresistible grin slowly turned a firm no into a maybe before Patrice could stop her lips from moving.

She sighed, giving in to the barely there push of peer pressure. "I'll call and ask my mom," she grumbled. "Is the phone in the living room, TJ?"

"By the couch, Treece."

Special names reserved for private use added another layer to a friendship blossoming by the day. Terry stood in the kitchen for a second longer to try out Patrice's new moniker alone, flexing different inflections and how it sounded next to his. Treece and Terry. Terry and Treece. Treece Ellis. Treece Richmond.

The last one earned a few repeats until Patrice's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"No luck on crawfish, TJ! I've got to leave to babysit my brother tonight!" she hollered from the other room. “Come on so we can finish! We gotta get one of these kids on paper and budget for their Spider-Man birthday party!"

Terry chuckled and shook his head. She'd never let him live that down. "Alright. I'm coming. You're a real demanding wife, you know that?" he shouted back with a smile.

Treece Richmond. He could get used to that one.

—————-

Reply if you'd like to be tagged in future work!

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @ghostfacekill-monger @nyifly22

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months ago

Note

AITA for not introducing my friends to my boyfriend?

I (F15) have three best friends (who are my age) that I go to school with. We do everything together, we have a lot of the same classes together, and even outside of school we spend a lot of our time together to study and just hang out.

There's a boy at our school that I kind of had a crush on and my friends were ALWAYS telling me how much he liked me. He was always giving me gifts, and inviting me out to go to the movies and stuff with him.

But recently I started dating someone. He's our age but he doesn't go to the same school as us, so they don't know him. I like my privacy, and I didn't want them to go nuts and start bugging me about him all the time, so I kept it a secret.

They kept asking me why I never went out with the boy from our school, and eventually they realized I was dating someone else. Now, every time we hang out, he's ALL they talk about.

We barely get any homework done because they're constantly asking about him. Asking who he is, where he's from, what he looks like, begging me to introduce them to him.

But the problem is he's kind of a weird guy. He's not a bad person or anything, he's just really protective and he can be pretty blunt and loud (he doesn't understand the concept of "inside voice"), but deep down he's actually a really sensitive, caring guy.

I was fine with not telling them, but now they're totally freaking out because I mentioned his temper, and now they think he's some kind of horrible jerk, and they're really annoyed and worried that I won't let them meet him.

So AITA for not introducing my friends to my half demon boyfriend Inuyasha?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality #fandom aita #inuyasha

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shutuperce · 1 year ago

Text

your fall 2023 byler reading list 🍂🍂

BIG BYLER FIC REC DUMP cause i haven't been writing a lot but i HAVE been reading and y'all need to read these! hope u enjoy as much as i did <3

got your spell on me, baby - @astrobei -Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 7,919

TW: none

'To be fair, Will’s costume is great, now that Mike knows what it is. And, okay, wait-

“Oh, this is so good. This is so good.” Max points at Mike, wheezing. “Because you’re dressed as-”

Will’s still looking straight up at the sky. The length of his neck is very, very flushed. Mike can feel his entire face going redder than Vader’s lightsaber. He clenches his hands into tiny little fists, and says, around a groan: “I’m not Han Solo, guys.”'

THE halloween byler fic. the party at college, bi lucas sinclair content, halloween party shenanigans.

these nerds, using star wars to flirt 🙄

background lumax & their amazing couples costume, el & will power sibling duo!!!

bowie references to heal the soul

all in all one of my favourite getting-together fics for this time of year :)

what a match: i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet - @perexcri - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 28,150

TW: guns, blood, gore (just demodogs though no human gore)

'One month ago, if you had asked Will Byers what he’d do if Mike Wheeler threaded his fingers through his hair, looked him dead in the eyes, and started leaning in for a kiss, he wouldn’t have said this.

He wouldn’t have said he’d be staring right back into those yawning dark eyes, one hand on Mike’s waist, the other against his cheek. There wouldn’t have been any lightning in his veins or blood rushing in his ears.

He wouldn’t have said that Mike Wheeler would be tilting his head in the opposite direction, eyes widening just the slightest as if asking permission, his mouth slightly parted.

He wouldn’t have imagined it at all.'

SO SO GOOD. apocalypse post s4, background jancy and platonic stobin, interruption trope x10000 so it's SO SATISFYING at the end.

WILL WITH A GUN.

jonathan & mike solidarity <3

all in all amazingly well written mike and will being blushing messes. love them. fluff in the apocalypse.

take my hand, wreck my plans - @parkitaco - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 6,297

TW: discussion of past trauma

'"I am not taken," he says out of habit, even though he kind of is. He and Will aren't together - he blushes at the thought - but they do spend an awful lot of time together, and Mike doesn't ever find himself wishing he was anywhere else. "Will and I are-"

"Ooh, I didn't even say anything about Will!" Max crows. "Oh, this is excellent."

Mike hides his face in his hands even though she can't see him. "Oh my God. Can you put Lucas back on, please?"

Max cackles in to the receiver, the sound fading as Lucas presumably wrenches the phone out of her grip. "We gotta go, Mike," he says, laughing a little. "Max has class and I'm driving her."

"Tell her she's the worst," Mike grumbles, fiddling with the phone cord.

"Say hi to Will for me!" Lucas sings, and hangs up before Mike can protest.

Mike groans and flops back on his mattress. It's going to be a long year.'

part of a series!! byler college au, friends-to-lovers, background party friendship, AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES. OH MY GOD, THEY WERE ROOMMATES??

taylor swift title... do u really need any other persuasion

the whole series is just AMAZING. mike & will getting a break, living together at college and figuring shit out <3

i might be hoping about this - @astrobei - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 15,321

TW: none

'Will lets out a small squawk as Mike’s hand— his very cold, very freezing hand— finds its way around the blankets and under his sweater. “I’m sick, you weirdo,” he says, half-laughing into the side of Mike’s head, “I have a fever.”

“I don’t care,” Mike mumbles, “you’re warm and I’m cold. This is nice.”

“You’re going to get sick,” Will tries, for the umpteenth time, but it’s pointless. Mike Wheeler is stubborn and hardheaded and he never does anything halfway— not even this.'

established byler at college!! so yeah i have a love of college byler and this is one of my top fics for sure. 2nd astrobi fic on this list because i love their writing <3

will gets sick, mike takes care of him. need i say more?

silly goofy guys living together & doing silly goofy domestic shit

this fic makes me SOFT.

accidentally on purpose - @itsromeowrites - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 5,019

TW: none

'It starts out with a kiss. An accidental kiss. Because Mike is sleepy and Will is pretty, and who can really blame him? And then there's another one, just as accidental. But the third? Well, that may be a little more on purpose.'

literally smiling so hard at this fic. like hello. soft secret boyfriends and loads of party content, all the kids are okay <3

established byler, how the party finds out. all fluff all the time. jonathan attempts the Talk. mike has no idea what's going on. et cetera.

background lumax, lucas & dustin being lil shits together, and el using her powers to cheat at splashing games. all in all a good time!

and if I get burned, at least we were electrified - anonymous - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 14,958

TW: none

'“I’ll leave you be until lunch,” Max starts negotiating, nodding at him as if that’s a good deal. Which—considering it's Max, it is, but Mike doesn’t want to give in just yet. She sighs. “I won’t laugh about the sweater anymore. Or the weak disposition that gives you stupid allergies all the time.”

Mike’s frown deepens, but she wasn’t as mean as she could have been, so he’s gonna take it. He needs to get this out anyways, or he’s going to keep running in circles as if stuck in a hamster wheeler—an accurate representation of his brain when it comes to Will, really. He presses his lips together and tries to figure out a subtle, non-funny way to say it, but he comes up blank.

Fuck, whatever: “I almost kissed Will. Again.”

Max actually has to cover her mouth with her hand, disguising a worryingly loud snort with a cough. The teacher turns their way and stares, then goes back to explaining the exercise on the board. Mike scribbles it down while Max gets herself under control.

Screw his life.'

senior year, post-vecna. the party being friends but also little shits to each other.

madwheeler bandmates!!!

will steals mike's entire closet

they are Dumb Idiots who are mutually pining from afar

and other lovable tropes. takes place in november so good fall vibes :)

#perce reads #byler #byler fanfic #fic recs #byler fic recs

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cuttergauthier · 1 year ago

Text

Fresh Start

Jack Hughes x Female Edwards Reader

Warning: cussing, fluff

word count: 1.0k

let me know what you guys think🤍

I was starting my last year of University, I used to go to the University of Michigan but after a bad break up I ended up transferring to Columbia University.

Columbia university is only a few minutes from Jersey, the team my brother was drafted by. My younger brother and I are pretty close, I could have stayed in Michigan and spent my last year with him there, but I needed a change, and to be somewhere I wouldn't run into my ex.

My brother will be in Jersey in a few years and I can't wait.

Since my brother started playing for the Michigan Wolverines he became close with his teammates, he’s pretty close to Luke Hughes, who was also drafted by the New Jersey Devils, now there roommates in Michigan, Luke playing in his last year before he joins his brother jack in Jersey who already plays for the devils.

Because both Luke and Ethan got to Michigan at the same time, along with a few others they stuck together, and are really close.

My brother introduced me to his teammates and I became friends with them, mostly the older ones. Now when I told the guys I was transferring to Columbia they were all sad but they understood why. Luke and Ethan both made it their mission to tell Jack, Luke’s brother to make sure he looks after me, they don’t think I know but it was pretty obvious.

Last summer when Ethan was invited to the Hughes Lake house, they also invited me, since according to Luke I became like a sister to him. That’s where I met Jack for the first time, Luke introduced us. Jack and I didn’t talk much that summer but I know for a fact that Ethan and Luke told him to look after me when I was at Columbia, I’m not stupid even tho both Ethan and Luke are younger than me, ever since my break up they’ve been protective.

Now I've been in Jersey for about a month and a half. University started a few weeks ago, Jack came by my apartment during my second day here, he said he wanted to show me around but I knew Luke told him.

Jack showed all the best places to go to in New York, he also introduced me to his teammates, they're all really nice and welcoming, so is Jack.

Ever since I got here, we’ve been spending a lot of time together when he doesn’t have practice and I’m not busy with homework.

Today is Wednesday. I had class from 8:30 to 10 a.m. This morning, Jack had the day off so he asked if I wanted to hang out after class and I agreed.

I just got back to my apartment. It's now 10:30 p.m. Jack said he’d be here at 11 a.m. so i went and changed out of my jeans and put on a pair of black Lululemon leggings so I could be more comfortable.

Once I was done I went and sat down on my couch, I turned on Netflix and put on the new season of Outer Banks so I could watch before he got here.

Thankfully I didn’t have any homework to do since I finished it last night. Ever since i’ve gotten close to jack i started to get feelings but there’s nothing i can do about it since i doubt he feels the same way. My brother will be his teammate in a couple of years and I also don’t want to make things weird between them.

At around 11:02 a.m. there was a knock on the door, I paused the show and went to open the door.

“Hey, this is for you” Jack greeted me smiling with an extra coffee in his hands, when I opened the door.

“Hey, come in and thank you, you didn’t have to get me a coffee” I replied smiling and taking the coffee from him, while opening the door wider so he could walk in, once he did I closed the door. Jack took off his shoes and we made our way to the living room.

“ it’s nothing, i know you had class this morning so i thought you might need one”

“I really did, so thank you”

“ What are we doing today?” He asked

“I have no clue, what do you want to do?” I said

“I was thinking maybe if it’s okay with you, i could take you on a date” he said looking at me waiting for my response. I was shocked. I didn't think he felt the same way.

“I’d love that” i said smiling softly

“Perfect, do you want to go after we're both done with our coffees?” He asked

“That’s perfect” i said nodding

“How have you been? How are your classes?”

“I’m good, my classes have been a bit stressful but it’s normal since it’s my senior year.”

“Makes sense, are you excited to be graduating in May?”

“Yes, I can't wait,” I said eagerly, making him chuckle.

“Jeez, it is that bad” he said sarcastically making me chuckle

“No, i’m just excited to be able to do what i love full time” i said smiling

“I’m glad”

“Are you ready to go out?” He asked once I took the last sip of coffee.

“Yeah, let’s go” i said smiling

We put on our shoes and jackets before making our way out of my apartment. I grabbed my hand and I looked at him smiling.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked curious

“It’s a surprise” he said smiling

Jack ended up taking me out to one of my favorite restaurants that he showed me when i first moved here, it was an amazing date, i had a lot of fun.

Now Jack dropped me off at home. He walked me up to my door.

“I had an amazing time tonight” I said, turning and looking at Jack who already had a smile on his face.

“Me too, any chance I can take you on another date soon?” He asked.

“I would love that” i said blushing

“Perfect,” he replied.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“I’ll talk to you later, have a good night Yn” he said before leaving.

Once I made it in the apartment and closed the door I couldn't stop smiling.

Another date? I like the sound of that!!

255 notes · View notes

cailinsblog · 3 months ago

Text

A Christmas to Remember | Carlos sainz

Carlos sainz x reader

Masterlist

The streets of Madrid shimmered under the glow of festive lights, the air crisp and filled with the scents of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon. Carlos Sainz and his wife Y/N strolled hand in hand, their breath visible in the chilly air. This Christmas was special—it was their first as a married couple, and they were determined to make every moment unforgettable.

Carlos had been home for a few weeks, finally able to relax after the whirlwind Formula 1 season. For months, he had been counting down the days until he could spend Christmas in his hometown with Y/N. She had been just as excited, eager to soak in the festive spirit and, more importantly, the uninterrupted time with Carlos.

---

Morning Magic

The day began with soft sunlight filtering through their bedroom window. Y/N stirred under the covers, slowly waking to the familiar warmth of Carlos beside her. He was already awake, leaning on one elbow, watching her with a gentle smile.

“Buenos días, mi amor,” he murmured, his voice soft and warm.

Y/N stretched and smiled sleepily. “Good morning. Merry Christmas, Carlos.”

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Perfect,” she replied, still half-asleep.

Carlos slipped out of bed and returned shortly with a tray laden with freshly baked croissants, warm hot chocolate, and a small bowl of strawberries. They shared breakfast in bed, laughing as Carlos stole bites from Y/N’s plate, playfully dodging her swats.

“Hey! Those are my strawberries!” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

Carlos grinned. “Sharing is caring, cariño.”

---

Christmas Market Adventures

After breakfast, they bundled up in warm coats, scarves, and gloves, ready to explore the city. Their first stop was the Plaza Mayor, transformed into a bustling Christmas market. Twinkling lights hung from every stall, and a towering Christmas tree stood proudly in the center of the square.

Y/N’s eyes lit up as they wandered through the market, taking in the sights and sounds. They stopped at various stalls, admiring handcrafted ornaments, sampling traditional treats, and marveling at the festive decorations.

“Look at this one,” Y/N said, holding up a delicate glass ornament shaped like a race car. “It’s perfect for you.”

Carlos chuckled. “We definitely need that for our tree.”

They bought the ornament and continued exploring, pausing at a stall selling hot churros. They sat on a nearby bench, sharing the warm, sugary treats and watching the lively crowd.

“This is exactly what I needed,” Carlos said, his voice soft. “No races, no cameras—just us.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed you so much.”

Carlos kissed the top of her head. “I missed you too, mi amor. Being with you is the best part of the holidays.”

---

Ice Skating Shenanigans

Their next stop was the outdoor ice skating rink in Retiro Park. Y/N was excited, but Carlos hesitated as they laced up their skates.

“I’m not sure about this,” he said, eyeing the rink with a mix of apprehension and amusement.

“Oh, come on,” Y/N teased. “You’re a world-class driver, but you’re scared of a little ice?”

Carlos laughed, shaking his head. “It’s not the same, Y/N. But fine—I’ll do it for you.”

They stepped onto the rink, and to Carlos’s surprise, he managed to stay upright. Y/N, more confident on the ice, glided ahead gracefully, laughing as Carlos wobbled behind her.

At one point, Y/N pretended to lose her balance, causing Carlos to rush over to catch her. They both ended up in a heap on the ice, laughing so hard their sides hurt.

“Maybe I’ll stick to driving,” Carlos said, helping her up.

“Maybe,” Y/N replied with a grin. “But you did great, babe.”

---

A Cozy Christmas Dinner

As the sun began to set, they returned home to prepare for a cozy Christmas dinner. They worked together in the kitchen, Carlos taking charge of the main course while Y/N focused on dessert. The aroma of roasted lamb and freshly baked cookies filled their home, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

They set the table with candles and festive decorations, then sat down to enjoy their meal. Between bites, they shared stories and reflected on their favorite moments of the year. It was intimate, heartfelt, and everything they had hoped for.

After dinner, they moved to the living room, where a crackling fire warmed the space. The Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, its ornaments gleaming in the firelight. Carlos poured two glasses of wine, and they settled onto the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket.

---

Under the Mistletoe

As they relaxed, Y/N noticed something hanging above them. “Is that mistletoe?” she asked, pointing to the small sprig Carlos had secretly hung.

Carlos smirked. “It might be.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Well, I guess we have to follow tradition.”

Carlos leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender, lingering kiss. It was soft and sweet, filled with all the love and warmth of the season. When they pulled away, Carlos rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered. “Thank you for making this Christmas so special.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full. “I love you too, Carlos. This is perfect—just us and the magic of Christmas.”

---

A Perfect Night

The night ended with them curled up by the fire, sipping hot cocoa and watching their favorite Christmas movies. Outside, snow began to fall gently, blanketing the city in a soft, peaceful glow.

As Y/N rested her head on Carlos’s chest, she felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. This Christmas was everything she had dreamed of—filled with love, laughter, and the man who made her world complete.

Carlos kissed her forehead once more, whispering, “This is a Christmas to remember.”

And in that moment, surrounded by warmth and love, they knew it truly was.

#carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #ferrari #charles lecrelc x you

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specificallyjude · 1 year ago

Text

social media au: fanboying

pairing: mason mount x driver!fem!reader

summary: a private, but not secret relationship being ruined by the one and only lando norris warnings: swearing. this is also a female reader fic so pls keep that in mind before reading. author note: please ignore any inconsistencies, this is all fake so don't take anything too seriously. I originally starting making this while mason was at chelsea, but then transfer season happened and I had to scrap everything and start over. also if you ever see me reuse any photos in future au's...no you didn't.

----------------⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆------------------

₊˚⊹♡ monaco gp 22 ♡⊹˚₊

y/n.username

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, and 1,453,778 others

y/n.username monaco you will always be iconic ⭐️

view all 34,950 comments

user i love the y/n and seb duo

user aaahhh everything about y/n in monaco is iconic

landonorris does monaco being iconic have anything to do with your good luck charm being in the paddock this weekend?

↳ user uuuhhh lando is there something you want to share with the class??

↳user do we think he's referring to a man

↳user he better not be, y/n is my wife

masonmount

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 789,345 others

masonmount first time in monaco. thank you @redbullracing

view all 34,234 comments

landonorris hey mate 👋

user what is lando doing here??

↳ user I'm pretty sure he's friends with mason

↳ user yeah there's pictures of them at the McLaren headquarters together

↳ user wow...this is such a random crossover

y/n.username posted a story

replies:

user omg did you meet any of the players???

user girl i thought you were a villa supporter. what is this betrayal??!!?

↳ y/n.username don't worry i'm here for business purposes only

user does there happen to be a good luck charm on the field??

₊˚⊹♡ [time jump] barcelona gp 23 ♡⊹˚₊

liked by y/n.username, maxverstappen1, and 785,234 others

masonmount always good luck in barcelona

view all 653,589 comments

redbullracing so glad to have ya this weekend 👏

↳ user mason's biggest flaw is being a red bull fan

user are we not gonna talk about y/n liking this post

↳ user relax she's allowed to like other people's posts

↳ user ikik but mason also used good luck in his caption, and lando did say she had a good luck charm in the paddock last year in monaco

↳ user they could just be friends you know

↳ user he's also friends with lando who is starting front row tomorrow so it could be about that

y/n.username

liked by masonmount, landonorris, and 945,252 others

y/n.username i was forced to spend the whole flight next to this idiot. please barcelona be good to me.

view all 264,305 comments

lando norris boo tomatoes...you literally wanted to fly together

↳ mason mount i mean she does have a point though

↳ y/n.username thank you 🙏 finally someone with common sense

user guys we got our first mason x y/n interaction...i'm calling it they're dating

↳ user ngl they would be cute together

↳ user them being lando's collective biggest hater is so silly

↳ user couples who hate together, stay together

user why do y'all ship y/n with everyone she talks too, i've had enough

↳ user i know, at this point people think she's dating half of the grid

↳ user it's gets so annoying I don't know how she handles it

f1 drama just posted

Aston Martin driver y/n y/l/n seen with a mystery man after 2023 Barcelona gp. They were seen entering and leaving a driver's after party together following race day. Who do you think this mystery man could be? Could it be a fellow driver or possibly her alleged good luck charm?

comments

user i'm telling y'all it's charles

↳ user nah nah nah it's definitely mick

↳ user you're all delusional

user i feel like he's not a driver, maybe a footballer?

user @f1drama you guys need to stop posting shit like this and let her date in peace. this is her private life.

↳ user fr respect her privacy

₊˚⊹♡ [time jump] 2023 summer break ♡⊹˚₊

mickshumacher posted a story

y/n.username

liked by masonmount, sebastianvettel, and 854,348 others

y/n.username a well deserved break 💐

view all 237,947 comments

sebastianvettel I hope you're having a nice summer holiday

↳ y/n.username awww i am, come back please, we miss you

↳ sebastianvettel we?

↳ y/n.username i*

↳ user seb really exposed her on main

landonorris nice flowers

↳ user what do you know that we don't ??

↳ user no because who the fuck is that... we MUST know

user y/n casually soft launching a relationship this really is silly season

user queen please tell us who that is and if he can fight

user I'd buy her an even bigger bouquet if she'd just give me a chance

lando.jpg posted a story

y/n.username

liked by masonmount, fernandoalo_oficial, and 1,598,268 others

y/n.username my good luck charm 🌟 (@landonorris you better watch you're back)

view all 794,284 comments

landonorris everybody makes mistakes, everybody has those days 🤷‍♂️

↳ landonorris I should not have to witness you two being gross and clingy by myself

↳user NOT THE HANNAH MONTANA LYRICS

↳user honestly landos story was a public service act

masonmount love you my flower 🤍💐

↳ masonmount but let's be real you don't need me as a good luck charm

↳ user stop he's cute and supportive and calls her flower. I need to lie down

↳ user is it a reference to the summer break post?

sebastianvettel congratulations you two from the whole family !!!

↳ y/n.username thank you 🤍

↳ user omg seb is such a dad

↳ user stop they're interactions are always so wholesome

charles_leclerc so this means no more googly eyes at each other across the paddock right?

↳ danielricciardo I don't think that's gonna happen mate

↳ user so basically everyone on the grid knew

↳ user the way they're all complaining about how in love y/n and mason are...my heart is hurting

masonmount

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masonmount my girlfriend is in fact hotter than you

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y/n.username please delete immediately

↳ y/n.unsername I have never worn a man utd shirt. this is defamation. villa for life.

↳ masonmount you're too cute

↳ y/n.username hehe love you 💕

benchilwell so happy for you (please stop making out in front of me it's traumatising)

user can they let us live pls I can't handle all of these cute ass posts

↳ user some of us are too single for this

↳ user I need to go lie down on a highway

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 x female reader #f1 x driver!reader #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #football imagine #football x reader #mason mount instagram au #my writing #mason mount

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okasuka · 28 days ago

Text

Uhhhhh drabble stuff

Tw : mentions of self harm, light drug use.

First Day Back

The early September morning was crisp, the kind that teased of autumn but still held onto the warmth of summer. Gotham Academy’s imposing gates were buzzing with activity as students reunited, exchanging stories about vacations, internships, or simply surviving another year.

Standing just outside the gate, you adjusted the strap of your bag nervously. You glanced down at your reflection in a nearby car window, making sure your slightly messy brown hair—with its signature red streak—wasn’t too unruly. Not that you cared much about appearances, but first days had a way of bringing out old insecurities.

Your eyes darted through the sea of uniforms, searching for one face in particular. Then you saw him.

Damian Wayne strode toward the gates, his posture as impeccable as ever, his green eyes scanning the crowd with that calm yet calculating intensity you’d come to love. His uniform was perfectly pressed, his tie immaculate, and his dark hair neat and slicked back —practically screaming “perfectly put-together Wayne heir.” But then his eyes landed on you, and that trademark stoicism softened, just enough for a small smile to tug at the corner of his lips.

“Y/N,” he greeted as he approached, his voice steady but warmer than usual.

“Damian!” you called, your grin lighting up your face as you dropped your bag to the ground and rushed toward him. Without hesitation, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

To anyone watching, Damian Wayne being hugged in public might have seemed like a scandal waiting to happen, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he let out a barely audible sigh and placed his hands gently on your back, hugging you in return.

“It’s only been two weeks since we last saw each other,” he murmured, though you caught the hint of amusement in his tone.

“Two weeks is an eternity when you’re my best friend and my boyfriend,” you shot back, pulling away just enough to look up at him. “Did you miss me?”

His green eyes met yours, steady and sincere. “More than you’ll ever know,” he replied, and while his voice was quiet, you could tell he meant it.

You beamed at him before reaching up to ruffle his perfectly combed hair. “And here I thought you’d come back looking all stoic and business-like. Guess I haven’t lost my touch.”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping back slightly to smooth his hair down. “And here I thought you’d be less insufferable after a few weeks apart.”

“Please, you’d miss me if I wasn’t,” you teased, leaning down to grab your bag.

As the two of you walked toward the main building, you noticed some of your classmates whispering and glancing your way. While Damian ignored them entirely, you rolled your eyes. “You’d think people would be over it by now. What, do they think I’m not good enough for the Damian Wayne or something?”

“They can think what they like,” Damian replied smoothly. “Their opinions are irrelevant. Besides…” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You’re more than good enough. You know that.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you quickly changed the subject to avoid getting too flustered. “So, what’s our schedule looking like? We still have most of our classes together, right?”

Damian pulled out his neatly folded timetable. “Mathematics, English, World History, and, unfortunately, Chemistry with Professor Clark. I presume you’ve heard about his… ‘enthusiastic’ teaching style.”

You groaned dramatically. “Great. Guess I’m going to need you to keep me from blowing up the lab this year.”

“If you pay attention and follow instructions, I won’t need to intervene,” Damian said with a smirk.

“Oh, like you’re not going to spend half the time criticizing my technique,” you quipped.

“Only if it’s necessary,” he replied coolly, but you could see the faintest glint of humor in his eyes.

As you entered the school and made your way to your lockers, you couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it all felt. The teasing, the banter, the unspoken understanding between the two of you. It was going to be a good year—you could feel it.

“I’ll walk you to first period,” Damian said, closing his locker and adjusting his bag strap.

You grinned. “What a gentleman. Lead the way, Mr. Wayne.”

And with that, the two of you headed down the hallway, side by side, ready to take on another year—together.

As you and Damian stepped into your first-period class, you were relieved to find most of the seats still empty. You scanned the room quickly, looking for two seats side by side.

“Do you see any—?” you started, but Damian was already ahead of you.

“There,” he said, nodding toward a pair of seats in the middle of the room.

But before you could move, a group of students rushed past, snagging the spots you were eyeing.

“Seriously?” you muttered, glancing around again. The only open seats left were scattered across the room, none close enough to sit together.

Damian’s jaw tightened. “Unfortunate.”

You sighed. “It’s fine. We’ll survive one class apart. I’ll sit…” Your eyes landed on an empty seat next to a familiar face, a boy from your grade named Logan. He was nice enough—a little flirty sometimes, but harmless. “There.”

Damian’s gaze flicked to Logan and narrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything. “I’ll take the one near the window,” he said, his tone clipped.

You hesitated. “You sure?”

“I’ll be fine, Y/N,” he replied, already walking to his seat.

You shrugged and made your way over to Logan, who greeted you with a grin. “Hey, Y/N. Long time no see.”

“Hey, Logan,” you said, sliding into the chair next to him. “Ready for another year of torture?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he joked. “Especially if it means sitting next to you.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed. “Smooth.”

The teacher, Mr. Daniels, walked in and began droning on about classroom expectations, but it wasn’t long before you started to feel lost in the lecture. Chemistry wasn’t exactly your strong suit, and the formulas on the board looked like a foreign language.

You leaned over toward Logan. “Hey, do you get this?” you whispered, pointing to your notes.

Logan smirked, lowering his voice. “Not really, but I’ll pretend I do if it helps.”

You snorted softly. “Wow, so helpful.”

Before you could ask another question, Mr. Daniels cleared his throat loudly, his eyes narrowing on you. “Miss Y/L/N,” he said, his voice sharp. “Do you mind not flirting in my class and actually paying attention?”

Your jaw dropped. “I—what?”

The class chuckled, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you stammered, “I wasn’t flirting! I was asking for help!”

Logan, however, leaned back in his chair with a grin. “I don’t know, Y/N. Sounded like flirting to me.”

The room erupted in laughter, and you buried your face in your hands, groaning.

From his seat by the window, Damian’s eyes darkened. His jaw clenched tightly as he watched Logan bask in the attention. It wasn’t like you to flirt with anyone, but the way Logan played along—and how the teacher called it out—was enough to irritate him.

When the laughter finally died down, you muttered to Logan, “Thanks for that.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink.

Meanwhile, Damian’s grip on his pen tightened. He forced himself to focus on the board, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you and Logan. The way Logan looked at you, the way he leaned just a little too close—it was infuriating.

By the time the bell rang, Damian was already out of his seat, waiting for you by the door.

You approached him, still grumbling under your breath. “Can you believe Mr. Daniels? Flirting? Seriously?”

“Hardly,” Damian said, his tone sharper than usual.

You blinked, caught off guard by his demeanor. “Whoa. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said curtly, though his eyes betrayed his irritation. “But perhaps next time, you should direct your questions to someone more reliable.”

You raised an eyebrow, realizing what this was about. “Are you… jealous?”

Damian’s expression didn’t change, but his ears turned slightly red. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You smirked, leaning closer. “You are. Admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit,” he said, brushing past you. “Let’s go. We’ll be late for the next class.”

Laughing, you hurried to catch up. “You’re jealous,” you sang teasingly, and while Damian didn’t respond, the way his shoulders stiffened told you everything you needed to know.

As the second-period bell rang, you and Damian made your way to your next class—World History. The classroom was much smaller than the last one, and you were relieved to see an empty pair of desks near the middle of the room.

“Looks like we’re stuck together this time,” you teased as you slid into your seat.

Damian didn’t respond right away. Instead, he placed his bag down with practiced precision, his expression unusually stoic.

“Hey,” you said, nudging his arm lightly. “What’s with the silent treatment?”

“I’m simply focusing on the lesson ahead,” he replied curtly, not meeting your gaze as he pulled out his notebook.

You blinked at his tone, a flicker of irritation rising in your chest. “Right. Of course. Damian Wayne, ever the diligent student,” you muttered, opening your own notebook with a bit more force than necessary.

His eyes darted toward you briefly, but he said nothing.

The teacher started the lecture, droning on about ancient civilizations, but you couldn’t focus. Damian’s cold demeanor was grating on you, especially after how playful and sweet he’d been that morning.

About twenty minutes into the lesson, you turned to him, keeping your voice low. “Okay, what’s your deal? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“No,” he replied, not looking up from his notes. “Perhaps I’m simply preoccupied.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Preoccupied with what? Chemistry? Or the fact that I asked Logan for help?”

That got his attention. He glanced at you, his green eyes sharp. “If you’re aware of how inappropriate your behavior was, I fail to see why you’re asking me.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process his words. “Are you serious right now? I wasn’t flirting, Damian. I was asking a question.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered under his breath, scribbling something in his notebook.

Your patience snapped. “Wow. Okay, so what, you don’t trust me now? Is that it?”

His pen froze mid-sentence, and he finally turned to look at you fully. “It’s not a matter of trust, Y/N. It’s—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening as if he was struggling to find the right words.

“It’s what?” you pressed, crossing your arms.

Damian hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. “It’s infuriating to watch someone else act so… familiar with you. Especially when they clearly enjoy pushing boundaries.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his tone. “Damian, Logan wasn’t pushing boundaries. He’s just a naturally flirty guy, and I don’t take him seriously. You know that, right?”

Damian’s gaze hardened. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t take him seriously. The fact remains that he’s disrespectful. And I don’t appreciate having to sit there while he makes a joke out of our relationship.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Damian, I can handle Logan. He’s harmless, and he doesn’t mean anything by it. But this?” You gestured between the two of you. “You snapping at me and acting all cold? It’s not fair.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching. “Perhaps it isn’t fair, but—”

“Exactly,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “It’s not fair. And it’s not me you should be upset with. If you have a problem with Logan, take it up with him, not me.”

Damian exhaled sharply, the tension in his posture barely easing. “You’re right,” he admitted, though his tone was reluctant. “But I can’t help it, Y/N. I… I don’t like sharing your attention.”

Your annoyance softened at his admission, and you gave him a small smile. “Damian, you’re my boyfriend. You already have my attention—more than anyone else. Logan’s just a friend. He doesn’t even come close to you.”

His gaze flicked back to yours, and for a moment, the usual confidence in his demeanor faltered. “I know that. Logically. But…”

“But emotions don’t always listen to logic,” you finished for him.

He nodded, his expression softening. “Precisely.”

You reached over and placed a hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Look, I get it. I’d probably feel the same way if someone was acting flirty with you. But you have to trust me, okay? If Logan ever crosses a line, I’ll shut it down. No one comes between us.”

Damian studied you for a moment, his green eyes searching yours before he finally relaxed. “I do trust you,” he said quietly. “I’m… sorry for being difficult.”

“Apology accepted,” you said with a teasing grin. “But you owe me for making me look like the bad guy in World History.”

He smirked faintly. “I’ll make it up to you. Perhaps a visit to the Gotham Art Museum after school?”

You raised an eyebrow. “As long as you’re not trying to bribe me into forgetting about this.”

“Of course not,” he replied smoothly. “It’s simply… a gesture of goodwill.”

You chuckled, the tension between you finally dissipating. “You’re impossible, Damian Wayne.”

“And yet, you still tolerate me,” he said, his voice lighter now.

“More than that,” you said, leaning closer. “I love you. Even when you’re being jealous and stubborn.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “The feeling is mutual.”

With that, the two of you turned back to the lesson, the earlier tension replaced by the quiet comfort of understanding—and the promise of a much better day ahead.

After the school day ended, you and Damian walked to the car waiting to take you both to Wayne Manor. The ride was quiet but comfortable, the tension from earlier long forgotten. Damian had even let his hand rest lightly on yours during the drive, a subtle but sweet gesture that made your heart flutter.

As the car pulled into the circular driveway, the grand silhouette of Wayne Manor loomed above you. You grabbed your bag and followed Damian up the steps.

“Do you ever get tired of living in a castle?” you teased as he opened the massive front doors.

“It’s hardly a castle,” Damian replied with a faint smirk. “Though it does have its advantages.”

As you stepped inside, the warm interior of the manor greeted you. Alfred appeared almost immediately, as if he’d been expecting you both.

“Master Damian, Miss Y/N,” Alfred said with a polite nod. “Welcome back. I trust your first day of school went well?”

“Uneventful,” Damian said simply, shrugging off his bag and handing it to Alfred.

“Eventful,” you corrected, grinning. “But in a good way. Thanks for asking, Alfred.”

Alfred’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he turned to you. “I’m relieved to hear it, Miss Y/N. I’ve prepared some refreshments in the living room if you’d like to relax.”

“Thanks, Alfred!” you said before glancing at Damian. “Wanna go chill for a bit?”

Damian nodded, but before you could take a step, a deep voice interrupted.

“Y/N, good to see you,” Bruce said, walking into the foyer. He was dressed in a sharp suit, his usual air of authority surrounding him.

“Mr. Wayne!” you said, smiling brightly. You’d always been a bit in awe of Bruce Wayne, but he’d long since made you feel welcome in his home. “How’s everything going?”

“Busy, as always,” Bruce said, offering a faint smile. “And no need for the formalities, Y/N. You’re practically family.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the comment, but before you could respond, Bruce glanced at his watch, his expression turning serious. “I’d love to catch up more, but I have a meeting to attend. Damian, Y/N, enjoy yourselves.”

“Good luck with your meeting,” you said with a polite nod, watching as Bruce strode off toward his study.

Damian gestured toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go to the living room.”

You followed him, excited to finally relax after the day’s chaos. Alfred had set out an impressive spread of snacks, including your favorite cookies, and the fire crackled softly in the hearth, making the room feel cozy despite its size.

As you plopped down on the couch, Damian sat beside you but noticeably kept some distance. He seemed lost in thought, his brows slightly furrowed, and his usual composed energy felt off.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” you asked, tilting your head to get a better look at him.

Damian blinked, as though he hadn’t realized you were talking. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been… weird,” you said, shifting to face him fully. “Since school ended, you’ve been kind of quiet. Did something happen?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor. “No, nothing happened.”

You frowned. “Damian. Don’t do that thing where you bottle everything up, okay? I can tell something’s bothering you. Talk to me.”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he said, a bit more firmly this time. “It’s not something you need to worry about.”

His tone stung a little, and you leaned back, crossing your arms. “Right. Of course. Because heaven forbid I try to be a good girlfriend and care about you.”

His eyes snapped to yours, guilt flashing across his face. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” you pressed, though your voice softened. “I don’t want to push you, Damian, but I also don’t want to sit here and pretend like everything’s fine when it’s obviously not.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is with you,” you said, smiling faintly. “But I can handle complicated, remember?”

He hesitated again, clearly torn. Finally, he shook his head. “I just… I need some time to think.”

You nodded slowly, though a pang of disappointment hit you. “Okay. If that’s what you need, I’ll give you space.”

“Y/N, it’s not—”

“No, it’s fine,” you interrupted, standing up. “I get it. Sometimes you need time to sort things out on your own. Just… let me know when you’re ready to talk, okay?”

He looked up at you, his expression conflicted. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” you said, grabbing your bag. “I don’t want to hang around and make things awkward for you. Besides, I should probably get some homework done.”

“Y/N,” he said again, standing as if to stop you, but you shook your head.

“It’s okay, Damian,” you said softly. “Really. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and made your way to the front door, nodding at Alfred on your way out. As the door closed behind you, you let out a quiet sigh.

You cared about Damian deeply, but sometimes, loving him meant giving him the space he needed—even if it hurt to walk away.

You walked out of the manor, each step heavier than the last. The cool evening air hit your face as you descended the grand steps, trying to shake the weight in your chest. You told yourself Damian just needed space—that this wasn’t about you. But the ache in your heart said otherwise.

The car Alfred had arranged was waiting at the end of the drive, but you hesitated. You didn’t want to leave angry or upset, not when there was clearly something Damian wasn’t telling you. Against your better judgment, you turned back, gripping the door handle and pushing it open quietly.

The sound of Damian’s voice drifted down the hall. You paused, peeking into the living room to see him pacing near the fireplace, phone pressed to his ear. His usual sharp posture was rigid, and his tone was sharper than you’d ever heard.

“I told you, I don’t need advice on how to handle my personal life,” Damian snapped, his back to you. “This isn’t about her. She’s just—” He stopped mid-sentence, exhaling harshly. “It’s not like that.”

Your heart sank at his words. He had to be talking about you.

You stepped into the doorway, your voice quiet but firm. “What’s not like that?”

Damian froze, his head whipping around to face you. His expression was unreadable for a moment, but then it shifted into something colder, something you hadn’t seen directed at you before.

“I’ll call you back,” he muttered into the phone before ending the call and slipping it into his pocket.

“Y/N,” he said flatly. “I thought you left.”

“I did,” you said, crossing your arms. “But I couldn’t just leave things like this. What’s going on, Damian? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because I just heard you.”

He stared at you, his green eyes unreadable. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

The sharpness in his tone cut through you like a knife, but you pressed on. “Why? So you could keep avoiding me? Pretending nothing’s wrong?”

“Maybe it’s because nothing’s wrong, Y/N,” he snapped, his voice rising. “Maybe it’s just that I don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“This? You mean us?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Don’t twist my words,” he said coldly. “I don’t need you analyzing everything I say.”

You took a step back, hurt flashing across your face. “I’m not trying to analyze anything, Damian. I just want to understand what’s going on. Why you’ve been acting so distant, so—so cold.”

“Maybe it’s because you don’t understand me as well as you think you do,” he said, his voice cutting like a blade.

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. “Damian… how can you say that?”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look, Y/N. I care about you, but sometimes, it feels like being with you is—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening.

“Feels like what?” you demanded, your voice breaking. “Say it.”

“Like it’s suffocating,” he finally said, his tone low but firm.

The world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. You stared at him, unable to process what you’d just heard. “Suffocating?”

He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the floor. “You always want to talk, to fix things, to know every little thought in my head. Sometimes I just need space, Y/N. And you don’t give me that.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I only do that because I care, Damian. Because I love you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he said, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it.

That was the final blow. Your chest tightened painfully, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. “I can’t believe you just said that,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I thought… I thought we were in this together.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be,” he said, his voice quiet but unwavering.

The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, searching for any hint of regret or hesitation in his expression, but there was none.

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “If that’s how you feel, then maybe I should’ve left when I had the chance.”

Damian said nothing as you turned and walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. This time, when you left Wayne Manor, you didn’t look back.

The door closed behind you with a finality that made your heart ache, but you refused to cry—not here, not now. You climbed into the waiting car, gripping your bag tightly as the driver pulled away.

Only then, as Gotham’s streets blurred past the windows, did the tears begin to fall.

The ride home felt endless, even though it was only a short drive. You stared out the window, the Gotham skyline blurred through tear-filled eyes. Every word Damian had said replayed in your head like a broken record. Suffocating. I didn’t ask you to. Maybe we shouldn’t be.

When the car pulled up to your house, you mumbled a quick thanks to the driver and stepped out, your legs feeling like lead. The house was dark and quiet as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The emptiness greeted you like an old friend.

“Dad?” you called out half-heartedly, even though you already knew the answer.

No response.

The faint tick of the clock in the hallway was the only sound as you dropped your bag by the door. You leaned against the wall, staring into the void of your empty home, the weight of everything crashing down on you.

Tears spilled over as you slid down to the floor, burying your face in your hands. The silence amplified your thoughts, every doubt and insecurity creeping in like shadows.

Maybe Damian’s right. Maybe I am too much. Too needy. Too—

You choked on a sob, wrapping your arms around yourself. It felt like you were unraveling, like every part of you was splitting apart.

You stumbled to your room, kicking off your shoes and collapsing onto your bed. The walls felt like they were closing in, the loneliness suffocating. You couldn’t stop crying, your body trembling with each sob.

And then, in your darkest moment, the familiar, dangerous thought surfaced. You’re not enough. You’ll never be enough.

Your eyes darted to your desk drawer, where you knew you’d hidden a small, sharp blade months ago. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t need it again—that you were stronger now. But right now, you didn’t feel strong. You felt shattered.

Your hands trembled as you opened the drawer, pulling the blade out. The weight of it in your hand felt heavier than it should have. You stared at it for what felt like forever, your mind spinning with the whirlwind of emotions.

Maybe this will help. Maybe this will make it hurt less.

You pressed the blade against your skin, the sting sharp and immediate. A small line of red appeared, and for a brief moment, the emotional pain seemed to dull. But the relief was fleeting, replaced by guilt and self-loathing that hit you like a tidal wave. You stared at the mark you’d left on your arm, the faint sting a cruel reminder of how far you’d let yourself fall. Tears streamed down your face as you whispered to yourself, “What’s wrong with me?”

The room was suffocating now, the walls closing in on you as your breaths came quicker. You curled into yourself on the bed, clutching your knees to your chest, wishing for the pain to stop. The silence of the house only made it worse.

Why isn’t anyone here? you thought bitterly. But deep down, you knew the answer. Your dad was always at work, and the few friends you had didn’t know how to handle the pieces of you that you kept hidden.

And Damian? The person you trusted most? He’d made it painfully clear where he stood.

The night dragged on, every minute feeling like an eternity. You didn’t sleep, too caught up in your own thoughts, your body aching with exhaustion and despair. By the time morning came, the idea of going to school seemed impossible.

You sent a quick text to the school’s office, pretending to be your dad, saying you were sick. Then you turned your phone off completely, unwilling to face anyone—not even Damian.

Meanwhile, at Wayne Manor

Damian hadn’t slept either.

The moment you walked out the door, regret had started to claw at him. The image of your hurt expression wouldn’t leave his mind, and his words replayed in his head like a haunting echo.

He sat in his room, staring at the ceiling, his hands clenched into fists. He’d thought pushing you away would give him the space he needed to think—to sort through his own feelings—but all it had done was make him realize how much he hated the distance he’d created.

“Suffocating.” The word sounded so harsh now, so untrue. You weren’t suffocating him. You were grounding him, giving him something real in a world full of chaos and masks.

By the time morning arrived, Damian had resolved to apologize. To fix things. He hated admitting he was wrong, but for you, he’d do it. He couldn’t lose you.

When he got to school and didn’t see you by the gates like usual, unease crept in. By the time first period started and you still hadn’t shown up, his unease turned into worry.

He pulled out his phone under the desk and sent a quick text:

Damian: Where are you?

No response.

He clenched his jaw, staring at the screen as if willing your reply to appear. When the second period came and you were still absent, he finally left the classroom without asking for permission, heading straight to the hallway to make a call.

You didn’t answer.

Damian’s grip tightened on the phone, his heart pounding in his chest. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

By lunchtime, he was already texting Alfred.

Damian: I need a car to Y/N’s house. Now.

Alfred’s reply came quickly, his usual calm demeanor evident even in text form.

Alfred: Understood, Master Damian. The car will be ready in five minutes.

Damian didn’t bother explaining himself to anyone as he left school, his thoughts consumed by you. He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that he’d pushed you too far. That his cruel words had broken something in you he didn’t know how to repair.

He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

The car ride to your house was a blur for Damian. His fingers tapped anxiously on the leather seat as he stared out the window, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He hadn’t heard from you since the previous night, and every second that passed without a response only made the knot in his chest tighter.

When the car pulled up to your house, Damian barely waited for it to stop before getting out. His hand went straight to the key you’d given him months ago, a small token of trust that now felt heavier than ever. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his ears, before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

The silence hit him first. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that made his stomach churn. He closed the door behind him and called out, his voice sharp and edged with worry.

“Y/N?”

No response.

Damian’s jaw clenched as he stepped further inside. The living room was empty, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound. He scanned the space quickly before heading toward your room, his heart hammering harder with each step.

When he opened your bedroom door, the sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

The room was a chaotic mess. Comics were scattered across the floor, their colorful covers torn and crumpled. A few bookshelves were toppled over, their contents spilling out in disarray. On the bed, torn photographs of the two of you lay in pieces, the edges jagged and angry.

But what made his blood run cold was the small, bloody blade lying on your desk.

Damian’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at it, his mind reeling. The faint smears of dried blood on the metal glinted under the soft light coming through the window.

“No,” he muttered under his breath, his chest tightening as he approached the desk. His hands trembled as he reached out, carefully picking up the blade. The sight of the blood sent a wave of nausea crashing over him.

He dropped it back onto the desk and turned, his sharp eyes scanning the room again. There were no signs of you anywhere—not even a note. His gaze fell on the ripped photos, and he crouched down to pick up a piece.

It was a picture of the two of you at the Gotham Art Museum. Your smile in the photo was radiant, your arm looped through his, while his usually stoic expression held the faintest trace of a smile—an expression you had drawn out of him so effortlessly back then. But now, the photo was torn cleanly in two, your half discarded on the ground while his was crumpled underfoot.

Damian swallowed hard, his chest tightening painfully. His mind raced with questions. Where were you? What had you done? What had he done?

He forced himself to look away from the torn photographs, scanning the rest of the room for clues. His eyes landed on your desk, where your school bag sat unzipped, papers spilling out of it. A few notebooks were scribbled over with angry marks, as if you’d taken a pen and let all your frustration out in jagged lines and furious scratches.

But what caught his attention most was a small notebook lying open on the desk. He hesitated before stepping closer, his hands shaking as he picked it up. The words scrawled across the page in your handwriting made his heart drop.

“I’m not enough.

I’ll never be enough.

Why does it hurt so much?

Maybe it would be better if I wasn’t here anymore.”

The edges of the page were smudged, as if tears had fallen on the ink. Damian’s hands tightened around the notebook as his breath quickened. His usually composed demeanor shattered, panic clawing at his chest.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “Y/N…”

He spun around, searching the room again, as if you might somehow appear if he looked hard enough. The mess around him was overwhelming, every detail screaming of your pain, your anger, your heartbreak. And it was all his fault.

Damian dropped to his knees, his head hanging low as he gripped the notebook tightly. His mind was a storm of regret and guilt, every cruel word he’d said to you echoing in his ears. I didn’t ask you to. Maybe we shouldn’t be.

The blade. The blood. The notebook. The torn photos. It all pointed to one unbearable truth: he had pushed you too far.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Damian felt helpless. He was always the one who had control, who had a plan. But now? Now he didn’t know what to do.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing your number again with trembling hands.

Damian sat on the floor of your room, phone pressed to his ear, waiting—hoping—for you to answer. The ringing dragged on for what felt like forever, each second stretching into eternity. And then, to his shock, the ringing stopped.

For a split second, hope sparked in his chest. But instead of your voice, the call disconnected.

He stared at the screen in disbelief, his heart pounding. You had declined the call.

“Y/N…” he whispered under his breath, panic threatening to overwhelm him.

He immediately stood, his training kicking in. He needed to find you, and fast. Scanning the room one last time, his eyes landed on a map of Gotham pinned to your corkboard. He spotted a circled area near the outskirts of the city—a dense, secluded forest.

He didn’t hesitate. Pulling out his phone, he called Alfred.

“Master Damian,” Alfred answered calmly, though the sharpness in Damian’s tone quickly changed his demeanor.

“I need the car back at Y/N’s house immediately,” Damian said, already moving toward the front door. “And alert Father. I might need backup.”

“Yes, sir. On my way.”

Deep in the Forest

You sat on the damp ground, surrounded by towering trees that blocked out most of the moonlight. The air was cold, biting at your skin through your thin jacket, but you barely noticed. Your hands trembled as you held the small bottle of pills, the weight of it feeling unbearable.

Your eyes were red and swollen from crying, the exhaustion making every thought feel heavier, more suffocating. You glanced down at the pills, your mind swimming with memories of Damian’s words.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Suffocating.”

A fresh wave of tears blurred your vision as you whispered to yourself, “I was trying. I really was.”

You tilted your head back, staring up at the dark canopy of trees above, your voice breaking as you continued. “I just wanted you to love me. But you gave up on me. On us.”

Your voice cracked, and a sob escaped you as you unscrewed the cap of the bottle, the pills rattling softly.

Damian Arrives

The car screeched to a halt near the edge of the forest, and Damian was out the door before Alfred could say a word. He sprinted into the woods, his heart racing as he followed the faint trail you’d left behind. Broken branches, footprints in the mud—signs he was on the right track.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the trees.

There was no response.

He pushed forward, his sharp eyes scanning the dark surroundings until he spotted you—a faint silhouette sitting on the forest floor. Relief flooded him for a moment, but then his heart sank as he saw the bottle of pills in your hand.

“Y/N!” he called again, louder this time.

You froze, your head snapping toward the sound of his voice. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched the bottle tighter, your body trembling.

“Stay back, Damian,” you said, your voice shaking but firm.

He slowed his approach, his hands raised slightly in surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you, Y/N. Please… just put the pills down.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “Why are you even here? You made it clear you don’t want me around. So why do you care now?”

“Because I was wrong,” Damian said, his voice cracking in a way that surprised even him. “I was so wrong, Y/N. About everything.”

You stared at him, your grip on the bottle loosening slightly. “You don’t mean that. You said I was suffocating you. That you didn’t need me.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said, stepping closer. “I was angry, and I said things I didn’t mean. But I do need you, Y/N. More than I can put into words.”

You let out a bitter laugh, tears streaming down your face. “You don’t need me, Damian. You gave up on me. On us.”

He stopped a few feet away from you, his green eyes filled with a mix of desperation and regret. “I thought pushing you away would protect me. But all it’s done is hurt the one person who’s ever made me feel like I’m more than just… a weapon.”

Your lip quivered as his words hit you. “Damian…”

“I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I can’t lose you. Not like this. Please, Y/N, put the pills down.”

You stared at him, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through the fog in your mind. Slowly, your grip on the bottle loosened, and it slipped from your hand, landing in the dirt.

Damian closed the distance between you in an instant, dropping to his knees and pulling you into his arms. You sobbed into his chest, your body trembling as he held you tightly, as if letting go would mean losing you forever.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your hair, his voice filled with guilt and pain. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll never give up on you again. I swear.”

You clung to him, the weight of his words finally breaking through the darkness that had consumed you. For the first time in hours, you felt a glimmer of hope—a tiny spark that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

The ride back to your house was quiet, the low hum of the engine filling the heavy silence between you and Damian. You sat in the passenger seat, your arms wrapped around yourself as you stared out the window, your swollen eyes still red from crying. Damian was next to you, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. He glanced at you every few moments, as if afraid you’d vanish if he looked away for too long.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice soft and raw. “I didn’t mean to love you so much,” you whispered, barely audible.

Damian’s hands faltered for a moment on the wheel, his green eyes darting toward you.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, your voice cracking. “I’m sorry for being too much. For… for making you feel like I was suffocating you.”

His chest tightened at your words, a pang of guilt twisting in his stomach. “Don’t apologize, Y/N,” he said firmly, his voice low. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was the one who hurt you. I was the one who didn’t see how much you were trying. This… all of this… it’s my fault.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill again. “I just wanted to make you happy, Damian. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Damian’s grip on the wheel loosened slightly as he let out a shaky breath. “You do make me happy,” he said, his voice softer now. “More than anyone else ever has. I was too blind to see it before, but I’m not going to make that mistake again. I swear.”

Back at Your House

When you arrived, Damian followed you inside, his presence steady and grounding. The chaos of your room was still overwhelming, but this time, Damian didn’t hesitate.

“Let’s clean this up together,” he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You nodded numbly, and the two of you worked side by side to pick up the mess. Damian carefully gathered the torn photographs, setting them aside, while you stacked the scattered comics and books. He didn’t rush you or push you to talk, letting the silence between you feel safe instead of suffocating.

Once the room was mostly back in order, Damian turned his attention to you. He gently took your hands in his, his eyes narrowing as he examined the cuts and bruises on your arms.

“These need to be treated,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

You tried to pull your hands back, but he held on gently, his touch steady and reassuring. “Please, Y/N. Let me take care of you.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Damian guided you to sit on the edge of your bed as he retrieved the first-aid kit you kept in the bathroom. He knelt in front of you, his movements careful and precise as he cleaned and bandaged each cut.

“You don’t have to do this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I do,” Damian said, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ll always take care of you. Always.”

When he finished, he stayed kneeling in front of you for a moment, his hands resting gently on your knees. “You’re not alone, Y/N,” he said softly. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Later That Night

Damian stayed with you, refusing to leave your side. As the night wore on, the two of you ended up lying on your bed, the lights dimmed. You rested your head against his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around you.

Tears continued to fall silently down your cheeks, dampening the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t say anything, just held you close, his presence steady and unwavering.

As exhaustion began to take over, your voice broke through the quiet. “Don’t… leave me, Damian,” you mumbled, your words slurred with sleep and raw emotion. “Please…”

His heart clenched, and he tightened his hold on you. “I won’t,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll never leave you, Y/N. I promise.”

Your breathing slowed as you finally drifted off to sleep, your tears subsiding. Even in your sleep, your fingers clung to his shirt, as if afraid he’d disappear.

Damian stayed awake for hours, watching over you, his heart heavy with guilt and determination. He’d nearly lost you once, and he vowed to himself that he would never let it happen again.

The next day at school, you felt yourself walking the fine line between pretending to be okay and actually feeling like you could survive another day. The previous night’s events still lingered in your mind, but the warmth of Damian’s presence gave you a sense of reassurance that you hadn’t felt in a while. With him by your side, maybe the world wasn’t so cold after all.

As you entered the school grounds, the familiar chatter of students surrounded you, but you felt like you were walking through a haze. You tried to smile when you saw Damian waiting by your locker, but your stomach still churned with nerves.

“Feeling okay?” Damian asked, his green eyes searching your face with concern.

You nodded, though the words felt hollow. “Yeah. I think I’m alright.”

But deep down, you knew it wasn’t true. You weren’t fine—not yet. But you didn’t want to burden Damian more.

You walked through the day, the hours dragging on as you tried to push through the heaviness on your heart. It wasn’t until lunch that things took a turn.

You had been sitting at a table in the cafeteria, quietly eating, when you felt the familiar, sharp gaze of a group of girls approach. They had always been the type to poke fun at you when they could—mocking your hair, your clothes, anything that set you apart. But today, they focused on something else.

One of the girls, a blonde with a condescending smile, leaned over the table and grabbed your sleeve, yanking it up to reveal the fresh bandages on your forearms.

“You really thought you could hide these?” she sneered. “What, did you think no one would notice the little ‘cry for help’ on your arms?”

The others giggled, their voices dripping with mockery. You tried to pull your sleeve down, your face flushed with humiliation, but the girl didn’t let go.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” she taunted. “Can’t handle the pressure of life? Are you really that fragile?”

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach as the laughter from the group rang in your ears. You felt small—vulnerable—and everything you’d been holding together from the day before seemed ready to fall apart. You wanted to fight back, to tell them off, but your voice caught in your throat.

And then, just when you thought you couldn’t bear it any longer, a familiar, commanding voice cut through the laughter.

“Get your hands off her.”

You looked up to see Damian standing just behind the group, his posture tense, his jaw clenched with anger. The girls froze, the cocky smiles slipping from their faces as they turned to face him.

“Damian,” the blonde girl sneered, her expression turning defensive. “What, are you gonna protect her now?”

Without a word, Damian stepped forward, his green eyes locked onto hers with cold fury. He didn’t shout or raise his voice, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

“If you don’t let go of her sleeve, I’ll make sure you regret it,” he said, his voice low but laced with a warning.

The girl hesitated, her confidence wavering under the intensity of Damian’s gaze. The others behind her shuffled uncomfortably, unsure of what to do.

The blonde finally released your sleeve, sneering one last time before stepping back. “Whatever,” she muttered. “It’s not like she can even take care of herself anyway.”

Damian stood his ground, his eyes never leaving the group as they slowly retreated. His presence was a shield, protecting you from their cruelty in a way no one else had. When they were finally gone, he turned to face you, his expression softening as his gaze flickered to the bandages on your arms.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but full of concern.

You swallowed, blinking back the tears that threatened to rise. “Yeah. I’m… I’m fine.” But it didn’t feel fine. Your chest still felt tight from the encounter, and the words of those girls continued to echo in your mind.

Damian stepped closer, placing a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “You don’t have to go through this alone, Y/N. I’m here. And I won’t let anyone hurt you, not even with words.”

You met his gaze, the weight of everything you’d been holding in your chest finally feeling a little lighter. “Thank you,” you whispered, a small tear escaping despite yourself. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Damian gave you a small, reassuring smile, though it was edged with the same underlying pain. “You’ll never have to find out,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You stayed with him the rest of the lunch period, the both of you lost in the quiet comfort of each other’s company, as if the world outside your small bubble didn’t exist. For now, at least, you didn’t have to be strong alone.

The weeks passed, and slowly, but surely, you began to feel yourself healing. It wasn’t easy—some days, you felt as though you were taking one step forward and two steps back—but with Damian by your side, you were starting to find joy again.

You’d signed up for soccer, something you’d always wanted to try, but never had the courage to do. You weren’t exactly a star player right away, but it felt good to do something that was just for you. It was an outlet—a way to channel the frustration and hurt, to feel like you were building strength in every pass and every kick.

Damian noticed the change in you too. He saw the small spark return in your eyes, the way you laughed when you made a good play. So, without a second thought, he joined in. He wasn’t exactly a soccer player, but that didn’t stop him from running beside you on the field, working together to help you feel less out of place. He didn’t care that soccer wasn’t his thing; he cared that it was your thing, and he’d support you no matter what.

The next match was one of the biggest games of the season, and the whole school was buzzing with excitement. You were both nervous—especially you, with the memory of how the girls had taunted you still fresh in your mind. But this time, you felt different. This time, you weren’t alone.

As you and Damian stepped onto the field together, the opposing team was already on the sidelines, laughing and joking among themselves. A few of the popular boys—part of the group of arrogant athletes who had always looked down on you—shot you and Damian disdainful looks. One of them, a tall jock with dark hair, sneered at you from across the field.

“Hey, look, it’s the freak show and her bodyguard,” he jeered, his friends snickering. “Did you guys really think you could win?”

Damian’s posture immediately straightened, his usual calm replaced with a barely contained intensity. He stepped closer to you, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the boys. His body was tense, ready to take action if needed, but you placed a hand on his arm, grounding him.

“Don’t let them get to you,” you murmured. “We’re here to play, not to fight.”

Damian didn’t say anything, but he nodded once, taking a deep breath.

The game began, and at first, it was clear that the other team was underestimating you. They were trash-talking, trying to get into your head, but you kept pushing forward, focusing on the ball, on the game. As the match continued, you felt stronger—faster—your confidence growing with every successful pass, every goal attempt. Damian was right there with you, supporting you every step of the way, offering encouragement with a smile that made your heart race.

It wasn’t until one of the boys from the opposing team kicked the ball into the net, mocking you with a grin, that the game took a more intense turn. You could feel the eyes on you, and the taunts growing louder, but you refused to back down. You and Damian worked together like a perfect team, passing and dribbling, until finally, with only a few minutes left in the game, you made a break for the goal.

The crowd held its breath as you charged forward, the ball at your feet, and with a single swift kick, you sent it into the net. The roar of your teammates and the audience around you was deafening. The scoreboard flashed in your favor: Your Team 3 - Opposing Team 2.

The other boys on the opposing team froze for a moment, shock written all over their faces.

And then, the one who had been the most vocal earlier, the tall jock, turned to look at you—really look at you—for the first time. His expression shifted from mockery to guilt as his eyes fell to the bandages on your arms, barely visible beneath your sleeves. His gaze flickered to Damian, whose unwavering, icy stare was enough to send the boy scrambling for an apology.

“Hey, uh…” the jock began, his voice faltering. “I’m… I’m sorry about what I said earlier. We were just messing around, but… I didn’t know about… well, what happened to you.” He shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his friends. “We were just… told to act like that.”

Damian didn’t say anything, his presence enough to silence the boy with a simple look.

The jock’s eyes widened in realization, and he mumbled an apology to both of you before walking away, his pride clearly deflated.

The rest of the boys, seeing the awkwardness unfolding, followed suit, quickly backing off and offering half-hearted apologies. You didn’t say a word, but inside, you felt something shift—a weight lifting from your shoulders.

After the Game

The final whistle blew, and your team celebrated the hard-earned victory. You were exhilarated—your heart racing from the rush of the game, the adrenaline coursing through you as you high-fived your teammates. But as you looked at Damian, standing by the sidelines with a proud grin on his face, something deep inside of you swelled.

You walked over to him, breathless and smiling, and without thinking, you reached up and kissed him—softly, quickly, but with all the emotion you’d been holding inside.

Damian froze for a split second, clearly surprised, but then he melted into the kiss, his hand finding its way to the back of your neck, pulling you gently closer. When you finally pulled away, his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, full of warmth and affection.

“You did great out there,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

You smiled, your heart soaring. “We did great,” you corrected. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Damian smiled, a small but genuine expression. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. And I’m always going to be here… by your side.”

And for the first time in a long time, you truly believed it.

As the cheers and celebrations of your team echoed around the field, you and Damian lingered in your own little bubble. The kiss had been spontaneous, but it felt like a long time coming. Even amidst the noise, the world seemed quiet as the two of you looked at each other, the connection between you stronger than ever.

“You’re full of surprises,” Damian murmured, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “What can I say? You bring it out of me.”

Before Damian could reply, your teammates called for you to join the group photo, their voices filled with excitement. You glanced at him hesitantly, unsure if you should leave his side, but he gave you a small nod.

“Go,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”

You ran off to join your team, grinning as you posed with them, the victory still buzzing in your veins. Every now and then, you glanced back at Damian, who leaned casually against the fence, his eyes never leaving you.

The Walk Home

After the game, the two of you decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. The evening air was cool, and the city lights flickered against the darkening sky. Your cleats dangled over your shoulder, and Damian carried your bag without you even asking.

“So,” you began, breaking the comfortable silence. “What’d you think of my moves out there?”

“They were adequate,” Damian said with a teasing edge, though the small smile on his face gave away how proud he really was.

“Adequate?” you repeated, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “I think you mean phenomenal.”

Damian chuckled, his rare laugh warming you from the inside out. “Alright, fine. Phenomenal,” he admitted. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” You grinned, feeling lighter than you had in months.

The conversation flowed easily as you walked, but soon, the quiet returned, comfortable and filled with unspoken understanding. As you approached your house, you stopped just outside the door, turning to face Damian.

“Thanks for everything,” you said softly, your voice full of gratitude. “For joining soccer with me, for standing up for me, for… everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice steady. “You’re worth it, Y/N. And I’ll keep proving that to you, every day.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but this time, it wasn’t from sadness—it was from the overwhelming warmth of knowing someone cared so deeply.

A Quiet Night Together

Once inside, you kicked off your shoes and flopped onto the couch, exhaustion from the game finally catching up to you. Damian followed, sitting beside you and stretching his legs out.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked after a moment.

“I could eat,” you admitted, laughing.

Damian smirked. “I’ll cook something. But only if you promise not to criticize my technique.”

“Deal,” you said with a grin.

He got up and made his way to the kitchen, and as you watched him move around the space, you couldn’t help but marvel at how much had changed in such a short time. Things weren’t perfect—you still had a long way to go—but for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.

Later, as the two of you sat together on the couch, eating and talking about anything and everything, you realized how far you’d come. Damian’s presence, his unwavering support, had made all the difference.

And as the night grew late and you rested your head on his shoulder, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you wouldn’t face them alone.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through your curtains, and for once, it didn’t feel so harsh. It was Saturday—a break from the chaos of school—and Damian had insisted on spending the day with you. His reasoning was simple: to replace the comics you’d ripped up in your darkest moment.

You got ready, pulling on a comfortable hoodie and jeans, and when you opened the front door, Damian was already there, waiting. He was dressed casually, in a black jacket and sneakers, but he still carried himself with that same composed air.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his green eyes soft as they met yours.

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. Thanks for doing this with me.”

The Comic Shop

The bell above the door jingled as the two of you stepped into the cozy little comic shop tucked away in one of Gotham’s quieter neighborhoods. The familiar smell of ink and paper greeted you, along with rows upon rows of colorful covers displayed on shelves and racks.

You felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you wandered through the aisles, memories of weekends spent here flashing in your mind. Damian followed close behind, his hands tucked into his pockets as he scanned the titles, occasionally picking one up to inspect the cover.

“I still can’t believe I destroyed some of these,” you said quietly, your fingers brushing over a stack of graphic novels.

Damian’s gaze shifted to you. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said firmly. “You were hurting. And now, you’re here. That’s what matters.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful for his understanding.

Finding Favorites

After some time, you spotted one of the comics you’d torn up—a special edition issue you’d loved. You picked it up, running your fingers over the glossy cover, and held it up to show Damian.

“This one was my favorite,” you said, your voice tinged with both sadness and excitement.

He took it from your hands, inspecting it. “Then we’re getting it,” he said matter-of-factly, tucking it under his arm before moving on.

“Damian, I can pay for it—”

“No.” He cut you off with a sharp look. “Consider it a gift. Besides, I’ve been meaning to expand my collection, and this way, I’ll know what to get for myself, too.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile as you followed him.

A Quiet Moment

After gathering a small stack of comics—some for you, some for Damian—you both headed to the small seating area in the back of the shop. It was cozy, with a few chairs and a coffee table surrounded by posters of superheroes and villains.

You sat down and flipped through one of the comics, the familiar feeling of the pages between your fingers bringing you a sense of calm. Damian sat beside you, his own book in hand, though you noticed he glanced at you more often than he read.

“Stop staring,” you teased without looking up.

“I wasn’t staring,” he replied smoothly, though his faint smirk betrayed him.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Sure, Wayne.”

For a while, the two of you sat there in comfortable silence, immersed in the colorful worlds of your comics. It felt normal—peaceful—even in a city like Gotham, where peace was often hard to come by.

Wrapping Up

When you finally got up to leave, you felt lighter than you had in weeks. Damian paid for the comics despite your protests, and as the two of you stepped back out into the crisp afternoon air, he handed you the bag.

“These are yours,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said softly, looking up at him. “For everything. Not just the comics.”

He gave you a small nod, his expression serious but full of care. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I told you—I’ll always be here for you.”

You smiled, and without thinking, you leaned up and kissed his cheek. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away—instead, a faint blush crept across his cheeks, making you grin.

“Come on,” you said, tugging his hand playfully. “Let’s go home. I need to read these properly.”

Damian let out a small chuckle.

The walk back to your house was filled with lighthearted chatter, the bag of comics swinging from your hand. By the time you got home, you were already buzzing with excitement to dive into the stories.

You kicked off your shoes, grabbed the bag, and plopped onto the couch with Damian following close behind. Pulling out the first comic, you settled into the cushions, fully prepared to lose yourself in the pages.

Damian, however, had other plans.

Instead of grabbing a comic for himself, he sat beside you, his arms crossed as he leaned back, watching you with an amused expression.

“You’re just going to stare at me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned a page.

“Maybe,” he replied smoothly. “It’s entertaining.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re weird, Wayne.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” he quipped.

For the next few minutes, you tried your best to focus on the comic in your hands, but Damian’s unwavering gaze was impossible to ignore. Finally, you sighed and turned to face him.

“Alright, what is it?” you asked, exasperated but amused.

His lips curled into a smirk, and before you could react, he lunged forward, his fingers digging into your sides. A squeal escaped your lips as you flinched away, but Damian didn’t relent.

“Damian! Stop!” you shrieked, laughing uncontrollably as he continued his relentless assault.

“Not until you admit defeat,” he teased, his voice calm despite the chaos.

You tried to squirm away, but he was too quick, pinning you down against the cushions as his hands moved to your ribs. Tears of laughter streamed down your face as you kicked your legs, desperate for an escape.

“Okay, okay! I surrender!” you gasped between fits of laughter.

Damian paused, his hands still resting on your sides as he hovered over you, a triumphant smirk on his face. “That’s more like it.”

You glared at him, still breathless. “You’re evil.”

“Perhaps,” he said with a shrug, his tone playful.

As you caught your breath, you realized just how close the two of you were. Damian was leaning over you, his arms braced on either side of your head, his face only inches from yours. His green eyes met yours, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted into something softer.

Neither of you said a word, the air between you thick with unspoken emotions. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as his gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Damian…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

But before you could say anything more, his smirk returned, breaking the tension. “You’ve got comic ink smudged on your face,” he said, reaching out to gently brush his thumb across your cheek.

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly pushed him off of you, sitting up and grabbing a pillow to hide your embarrassment.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the smile on your face betrayed your words.

Damian chuckled, sitting back and grabbing one of the comics from the bag. “Maybe. But you’re stuck with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but as you settled back into the couch, this time with Damian reading beside you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for moments like this. Moments where the world felt lighter, and the weight of everything else faded away.

The rest of the day unfolded in quiet comfort, a kind of domesticity that felt warm and grounding. After finishing a few comics, you stretched out on the couch while Damian remained seated beside you, flipping through one of his own picks with his usual intensity.

“You know,” you said lazily, your head tilted to look at him, “you don’t have to read like you’re memorizing every panel.”

He glanced at you, one brow raised. “Attention to detail is important,” he replied. “You miss things otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Only you could turn reading comics into some kind of serious study.”

He didn’t respond, but the slight upward twitch of his lips gave him away.

Cooking Together

Eventually, your stomach growled loudly enough to interrupt the peace. Damian looked over, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Hunger finally catching up to you?” he teased.

“Maybe,” you admitted, sitting up and stretching. “Want to help me make something?”

“You mean, do all the work while you ‘supervise’?” he asked, standing up and offering you his hand.

You took it, grinning. “Exactly.”

In the kitchen, the two of you worked side by side, though Damian insisted on taking over whenever you looked even remotely clumsy. You pretended to be annoyed, but the truth was, you liked seeing him in this relaxed, everyday setting.

As he chopped vegetables with precision, you leaned against the counter, stirring a pot of pasta and stealing glances at him.

“You’re kind of good at this,” you said, feigning surprise.

“Did you think I’d be bad at it?” he asked, not looking up.

“Well, yeah,” you admitted with a smirk. “You’re so used to fine dining at the manor, I thought you’d be hopeless at normal food.”

He finally looked up, his expression deadpan. “You realize Alfred taught me, right?”

“Oh, so you’re cheating,” you said, laughing.

Cleaning Up

After dinner, which turned out surprisingly delicious, you both tackled the mess in the kitchen together. Damian washed while you dried, the two of you moving in sync like you’d done it a hundred times before.

“This is weirdly nice,” you said, holding up a clean plate for him to rinse.

He glanced at you, his sleeves rolled up and his hands wet from the soapy water. “What is?”

“Just… doing normal stuff. With you,” you admitted, your voice softer. “It makes everything else feel less… heavy.”

Damian didn’t reply immediately, but he handed you the next dish with a look that was equal parts understanding and affection. “You deserve moments like this,” he said finally.

Movie Night

With the kitchen clean and the dishes put away, you both collapsed onto the couch again, deciding to end the day with a movie. You scrolled through the options while Damian leaned back, his arm casually resting on the back of the couch.

“What about this one?” you asked, pausing on a cheesy superhero movie.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Really? That one’s notorious for being terrible.”

“Exactly,” you said, grinning. “It’ll be fun to make fun of it together.”

He sighed but didn’t protest, and you started the movie.

About halfway through, you found yourself leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you laughed at the absurdly bad dialogue on screen. Damian didn’t say anything, but you noticed the way his arm shifted slightly, wrapping around your shoulders to pull you closer. It was a subtle gesture, but it made your heart flutter nonetheless.

“See? This is fun,” you said, nudging him lightly as a particularly over-the-top action scene played out.

“If your definition of ‘fun’ is watching actors butcher every basic combat move, then yes,” he replied, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Oh, come on, Mr. Perfectionist. Not everything has to be realistic,” you teased. “Sometimes you just need to enjoy the chaos.”

He gave a quiet hum, and you could feel the vibration through his chest. “Chaos isn’t something I usually associate with enjoyment.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me, so you better get used to it,” you said with a grin, leaning further into him.

Late-Night Calm

By the time the credits rolled, you were half-asleep, your head tucked against Damian’s shoulder. He glanced down at you, his expression softening as he noticed your slow, even breathing. Carefully, he reached for the remote to turn off the TV, trying not to disturb you.

“You’re hopeless,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no bite to his words.

He shifted slightly, adjusting you so that you were lying more comfortably against him. As he rested his head back against the couch, he found himself staying awake, watching over you as you slept.

Morning Routine

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of faint movement in the kitchen. Rubbing your eyes, you sat up on the couch, a blanket draped over you that you didn’t remember grabbing.

You followed the sounds to the kitchen, where Damian stood, already dressed, pouring two cups of coffee.

“Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still groggy.

He turned, offering you one of the mugs. “Morning,” he replied. “I figured you’d need this after staying up so late watching… whatever that movie was supposed to be.”

You chuckled, taking the mug and leaning against the counter. “Thanks. And for the record, I stand by my choice.”

“Of course you do,” he said, shaking his head lightly.

The two of you sat down at the small kitchen table, sipping your coffee in companionable silence. It was simple, ordinary, but it felt special—like a glimpse into a life you never thought you could have.

“What’s the plan for today?” Damian asked after a while, his green eyes meeting yours.

You thought for a moment, then smiled. “Maybe something boring. Like grocery shopping or reorganizing my bookshelves. Something normal.”

“Normal sounds good,” he said quietly, his lips curving into a small smile.

And so, the day unfolded in a series of small, domestic moments—sharing breakfast, tidying up, and simply enjoying each other’s company. It wasn’t grand or dramatic, but it was enough. It was everything.

#dc #dc comics #dcu #dc fanart #dc robin #damian wayne #fluff #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #angst

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