#i pinky promise the next one will be longer

[noxemma]

Parts 1&2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

--- Sorry this is a bit of a shorter part. I promise more is coming but I wanted to get something out since its been several days over a week 🫣 --- "Dean, I-" Cas starts, but before he can finish there's another knock on the door. "Hey, it's me!" Gabe's muffled voice calls from the other side. Dean doesn't move, just keeps staring at Cas, willing him to continue. Cas opens his mouth again, but closes it, averting his eyes as he slides past Dean to let his brother in. "Oh thank god, I was worried our parents were going to find me out there. Now, we should head down to the room before-" "Gabe, they were already here. They had a 'proposition," Dean cuts him off. "They, what?" Gabe blinks at him before turning to his brother when Dean doesn't' elaborate. "What did they want?" "They wanted me to get married instead of Michael," Cas tells him, but his eyes are on Dean. "To who, you don't have a- oh. Oh! They want you and Dean to get married?" Gabe's mouth is hanging open and he gapes at Cas then Dean.

"They offered to give me the contents of my trust fund if I did," Cas explains bitterly.

"You didn't say yes, did you? Because you know I have no problem using my share on you and Jack, hell, it's practically my duty as fun uncle."

"No, of course we didn't say yes. I've helped Sam study for an exam or two. I told them if they wanted me to marry Cas and smile for the press or whatever they had to give up all custodial rights to Jack, notarized and in writing or I wasn't playing ball." Gabe looks at Dean again, but it's as if he's seeing Dean for the first time, or at least that's what it feels like to Dean. There's a new glimmer of respect in his eyes. "Alright, enough, we can talk about this later. Dean gave them until eight to think it over, so we have until then to figure something else out. But first," Cas says, "I need to see my son, so Gabriel, lead the way." They make their way into the hall, opting for the stairs again since it's just one floor and 'less conspicuous' according to Gabe. Gabe unlocks the door with his key, letting Cas go through, but he stops Dean before he can follow. "Are you serious about this? I mean, I know it's Vegas, but you two will be legally, and probably very publicly if my parents have anything to do about it, wed. You're fine with that? Marrying someone who's practically a stranger?" "I know that I haven't known Cas for long, but I know what it's like to want to protect a kid. And if Cas is willing to do that for Jack, then I'm willing too. Besides, its not like the marriage has to be forever and well, I like Cas, I like Jack, I like Cas' house, and, in all honesty, it's been kind of lonely with Sam rooming on campus and just coming home for the weekends sometimes. Besides, it's not like I'm volunteering myself as tribute or anything," Dean explains, wincing a little bit, "That is if Cas'll even agree to it at all. He didn't seem all that excited about it before you showed up." "Hmm. That does seem on brand," Gabe shrugs, seemingly unbothered. "He'll do it, trust me." "What? How can you-" "I know my brother. He's probably just worried because he actually likes you and thinks he'll ruin any chance at friendship or something more if you're chained to him against your will," Gabe answers nonchalantly, "I bet he doesn't trust that you really wouldn't be bothered by being married." "So what do I do?" Dean whispers earnestly. "How do I convince him that I want to do this and that it's not some grand sacrifice?" "I'm sure you'll think of something," Gabe says, patting Dean's cheek before sweeping into the room. Dean trudges after, but crazy thoughts of getting Cas to accept his hand in marriage are pushed to the back of his brain when he sees Sam. "Sam! What the fu-," Dean remembers just in time that Jack is also in the room and corrects himself as he pulls Sam into a tight hug, "-udge happened to your face!" "Ugh, Dean. You're choking me!" Sam whines dramatically, tapping Dean's arm until he lets go. "It's nothing. Like I said, some guy came up behind and, Gabe can vouch, he looked worse." "It's true," Gabe chimes in from where he's flopped on the bed doing something on his phone. "Dad, you should have seen it! Sam hit the guy so hard he had to let me go because his nose started bleeding!" Jack explains excitedly into Cas' chest where he's still clutched tight. "Thank you, Sam. I, I don't know what I- Without you, and your brother, I would be," Cas finally looks up, finally looks at Dean, "I would probably be a nervous wreck right now."

"Hey, Jack-attack, do you want to go check out what they have at the buffet? Dean, Cas, and Sam need to chat for a second and then they'll join us for dinner, right guys?" Dean, Cas, and Sam all vocalize their agreement at the threat and Cas reluctantly lets go of Jack. Sam doesn't even wait until the door is fully closed before he turns toward Dean and Cas. "Dean, Cas? What's going on and what's Gabe talking about?" "Okay, well, uh. So Michael was supposed to be getting married, but I apparently fucked that up at brunch. And it was supposed to be this whole publicity stunt and-" "My parents want me and Dean to get married instead." "What!" Sam shouts. "Dean, um, can I have a word with you." "I'll give you two a minute," Cas says graciously, heading towards the bathroom. "Sam-" "Dean, you can't marry a man you just met," Sam blinks at him, in a way that would be hilarious if it weren't for the absolute concern in his eyes. "Why not? Disney princesses do it all the time and they end up fine," Dean grumbles, hoping to tease the frown lines off his younger brother's face. "Dean! You. Are. Not. A. Disney. Princess! I mean I like Castiel, he's a great professor and Jack is pretty awesome, but really, why-" "Because I told his parents that I wouldn't do it unless they signed over their custodial rights to Jack," Dean says, immense fatigue hitting him as he says the words. He rubs a hand down his face. "Do you remember what it was like, when you were in foster care and when you were with John? 'Cause I do, and it, it was fucking hell. If, if there is something I can do to keep Cas from having to deal with that, to keep Jack from having to live through that? Then yeah. Hell, I'd probably marry Michael, even though that way, way less appealing than marrying Cas." Dean watches as understanding turns Sam's face soft. "Dean. There has to be another way. You don't have to-" "Dammit, Sam. Maybe I want to, alright! You know, maybe this is the one time I'll have the opportunity to get married, even if it isn't real. Maybe I'm not the selfless saint everybody wants to paint me as!"

The silence is deafening as Sam just gawps at him, his eyes going impossibly wider when they drift over Dean's shoulder. "You want to get married?" Cas asks, walking towards Dean slowly, like he thinks he might scare him away by moving too quickly. "Yeah, I do," Dean admits and it feels so fucking good to say. "I mean, sure, being sort of blackmailed into it was never really part of the fantasy, but well, nothing's perfect. And it's really a win-win if it gets you Jack." "Dean, you know they won't let this go. Not for a while at least. They'll want us to stay married for at least a year, it might even be a stipulation of theirs. "Cas, I don't know how to say it any clearer, I've liked playing your boyfriend and fiancé, I've liked talking to you and," Dean shoots a side eye to Sam who stares stunned between Cas and Dean, "and holding you, and yelling at your parents, and I-" Dean just barely manages stop himself from saying 'I'm half in love with you already,' but he knows something must show on his face by the look Sam's giving him. "I want to do this, Cas. Really." Cas stares at him for a long time before nodding, then turning to Sam. "What about you, Sam? How do you feel about Dean and I getting married?" "Dude, he doesn't really get a say," Dean grumbles, not miffed at all that Cas didn't mention anything about his speech. "No, but he does get feelings and opinions on the matter, right? Especially considering that I am his professor." Dean groans and rolls his eyes, but looks to his brother. "Well, Sam? Whaddya say, you willing to give me away?" Sam looks trapped, eyes darting between the two of them. But then his eyes stick to Dean and Dean stills, letting Sam observe or read whatever he needs to on Dean's face. Sam finally heaves out a long-suffering sigh and nods his head. "Fine. But you, Dean Michael Winchester, are a liar. You promised you weren't trying to hook-up with Castiel," Sam says, thrusting an accusatory finger into Dean's chest, though his words are light and teasing. "Yeah, well, I'm not hooking up with him, I'm marrying him! So, technically, I'm not breaking my promise, huh," Dean shoots back, unable to contain his shit-eating grin. "You promised your brother you wouldn't try to 'hook-up' with me?" Cas asks, using his fingers to actually air quote the phrase and bringing Dean's victory lap around Sam to a screeching halt. "Uh, well, um. See, he's a freak." "Hey!" Sam shouts indignantly. "Sam's a freak and he notices everything, and when Jack FaceTimed the other day he noticed that we were both shirtless and I was wearing your clothes, and he knew that I thought you were- um, he, ah," heat flares up Dean's neck and ears as he blubbers and babbles and tries to talk himself out of the corner he's been backed into by his own renegade mouth. "Gabe and Jack must be wondering where we are. We really should go join them, trust me, if you thought brunch was bad, you don't want to see what kind of damage I can do when I'm hangry." Dean runs for the door, getting his hand on the handle before Sam barks his name. He sheepishly turns around, expecting to get more flak for calling Sam a freak or for the blatant redirect. But no, it's worse than that. Sam puts his hands on his hips and cranks up his bitchface to eleven before saying, "You wanna maybe fix your clothes before you dash off into public?" --- Sorry again for the mini post. I have THOUGHTS about how Dean/Cas are going to react once they realize they're not going to be sharing a bed, not to mention I have to write the whole confrontation thing with the parents (which will leave both Dean and Cas seeking comfort, hence the THOUGHTS, you guys are catching my drift, right?) ---

@colorlessjay @destielfangirl24 @chokinghazardchirp @o-birdseed-o @examishbookwyrm @planterflush @t0asssty @dead-sirens @hate-babe-27 @profanitybasedfun @azriel-rodas @ghost-in-the-light @kwazle96 @icarus-falling-down @beingbluee @sassa-v @demons-i-get @greeneyedgrasshopperandhisangel @hereswhatimyellingabouttoday @sesquipedalianisms @sadundefinedbread @nyc-pizza-rat @bluetiger3000 @thefantasyvoid

[rizzanon]

07-2 | TO CARE OR NOT TO CARE

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It was time to leave, the evening air starting to cool as you said your goodbyes to the kids. Elliot, as usual, was especially clingy, wrapping his arms around you tightly as if he couldn’t bear to let go. You chuckled softly, ruffling his hair in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Hey, hey, Elliot. What’s all this? I’ll be back tomorrow, just like always.”

His eyes, wide and full of sincerity, didn’t quite lose their worry. “I know you will… I know you’ll always come back, but I just—what if one day, you don’t come back?” He bit his lip, a deep uncertainty coloring his voice.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart ache just a little at how serious he was about it. Kneeling down to his height, you placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a smile as genuine as you could manage.

“Aww, Elliot. Don’t worry. I promise, I’ll always come back for you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Your voice was soft, but firm, trying to reassure him as best as you could.

The tiny boy’s brow furrowed in doubt, but his hands loosened from your arm. Then, with a sudden seriousness, he extended his pinky toward you, his small fingers trembling just slightly.

“Pinky promise?” Elliot asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

You laughed softly, touched by how serious he was. Without hesitation, you linked your pinky with his, sealing the promise with a nod. “Pinky promise. I’ll always be here for you, I swear.”

Elliot’s face lit up, and for a moment, all his worry seemed to melt away. He grinned widely, “Pinky promise!”

You stood back up, brushing off your pants, feeling a lightness in your chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Elliot. Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?”

“I won’t! I promise!” he called as you turned to join the others, his voice filled with a childlike sincerity that almost made you want to stay longer. But you couldn’t.

You walked over to Caitlyn and Adrien, who were standing nearby, clearly enjoying the sight of the exchange.

“Well, well,” Adrien teased with a raised brow, smirking. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a little sidekick now.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing it off. “Please, he’s just clingy. He’ll be fine tomorrow, just like always.”

“You know,” Caitlyn spoke, her voice light but full of amusement, “I think I’m starting to get jealous. Elliot’s got a special bond with you.”

“He’s just a good kid.”

Adrien snickered, poking fun at you. “Good kid? He’s like your shadow. He’s probably got you wrapped around his finger.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you glanced back at Elliot, who was still watching you with a hopeful look. “Please, you two. I’m just doing my part to make sure he’s doing alright,” you said, playing along with their banter. “And anyways, it’s not like you two are much better. Who’s the one with all the girls looking up to her like she’s a disney princess that came to life? And who’s the one who has most of the boys treating him like the older brother they never had?”

“Oh, stop it, you’re going to make me blush (Name)…!” Caitlyn squeals, and you just rolled your eyes at that.

Adrien scoffed, nudging Caitlyn. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re Gotham’s sweetheart. Meanwhile, I’m just out here doing my best.”

“Doing your best? Please. Half the time, you’re just running damage control from whatever chaos you start with the boys.”

Adrien gasped dramatically. “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent role model.”

You snorted. “For what? How to almost get into trouble but charm your way out of it?”

“Exactly.” Adrien winked. “It’s an art, really.”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing again. “Yeah, yeah. Sure, it’s all fun and games now. But don’t let this get in over your head.”

Adrien just grinned and shrugged. But then, with a knowing smirk, he glanced over at Damian, who was standing off to the side, observing you all with his usual quiet intensity.

“Fine, fine, you should get going,” Adrien said, voice filled with tease. “Wouldn’t want to keep your little brother waiting, would you?”

Your gaze flickered to Damian. There he was, standing stiff and awkward, his eyes narrowed but unreadable. The change in his posture, the silence, made you feel an odd tension settle in your chest. You couldn’t help but sigh, the weight of his stare pressing on you.

“Right, I should go,” you murmured, offering one last wave to your friends before walking toward Damian.

When you stood in front of him, there was a long pause, neither of you speaking right away. Damian shifted slightly, his expression still unreadable, before he broke the silence.

“So, when is Pennyworth coming?”

You didn’t even look up as you started walking, already preparing for his usual directness. “Alfred’s not coming.”

You felt the weight of his gaze on you, the confusion crossing his features despite his best attempt to mask it. “He doesn’t know you’re here?”

You shook your head, keeping your eyes ahead. “I didn’t exactly tell him I’ve been volunteering at an orphanage the past few days,” you said, keeping your voice light, dismissive, like it was nothing. “But knowing him, he probably already knows.”

Damian scoffed under his breath, clearly not convinced by your attempt at nonchalance.

“So, father doesn’t know about your… charity work?” His tone was matter-of-fact, and you froze for a split second, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

You froze in your tracks, your thoughts stalling for a split second. “Yes.” The words came out quiet, but firm. You couldn’t afford to let him see how much it bothered you. “And I’d appreciate it if it remains that way.”

Damian’s eyes flickered to yours, suspicion there for a moment.

“Why?”

You had to stop yourself from grimacing. It was a simple question, but the answer was anything but. You couldn’t just blurt out that you were volunteering because of a strange vision, because of Elliot, because you didn’t trust the orphanage’s warden. That would make you sound like a paranoid mess. Completely irrational. So instead, you let out a breath and gave him the simplest answer you could muster.

“Because I don’t want to.”

The words felt hollow the moment they left your mouth. You wanted to add more, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t explain any further, not to him. Not to anyone.

And then, silence followed. You both continued walking, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet evening. Gotham was calm for now, the sky still holding on to the last of the fading daylight, with streaks of pink and orange bleeding into the dark blue horizon. The air was still warm, but a crisp breeze was beginning to cut through, making the walk feel colder than it should. Streetlights flickered to life, their glow casting long shadows across the sidewalks as the city slowly came to life.

You looked around, distracted by the mundane beauty of the city you thought you knew so well. Yet, it all felt somehow distant tonight.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Damian spoke again, his voice cutting through the silence.

“And what about the warden?”

You stopped in your tracks, a chill creeping up your spine at the question. You hadn’t expected him to bring it up so bluntly. You tried to mask your surprise, forcing a calm tone as you turned to face him. “What about her?”

Damian didn’t even flinch at your tone. “Don’t be stupid. The warden. I saw you freeze up the moment she walked in. So, what of her?”

You cursed under your breath. Had you really been that obvious? Then again, Damian was nothing but perceptive. You ran a hand through your hair, looking away for a moment, trying to hide the unease that had risen in you.

“I just don’t like her that much.” It wasn’t a full explanation, but it was all you could muster without sounding crazy. You hoped it would be enough.

But the excuse felt weak even as you said it.

Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press the matter further. He just tsked and turned away, falling back into his usual aloof silence.

You walked beside him, feeling an odd sense of relief that he didn’t push it, though it left you with more questions than answers.

The silence stretched between you, broken only by the distant sounds of Gotham settling into the night. It was comfortable in its own way.

You were grateful, though—grateful that he didn’t push you any further. You didn’t want to drag him into something you couldn’t even explain to yourself.

And after a long pause, you spoke up, your voice quieter this time. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about today? About me volunteering with my friends?”

Damian glanced at you, not answering immediately. The corner of his mouth twisted, as though he was considering how much he wanted to humor you. “Hmph, whatever. But I’m coming with you from now on.”

Your head snapped toward him, baffled. “What?”

Damian glanced over at you, unfazed by your surprise. “Who knows what kind of nonsense you’re getting yourself into. I’ll see how much more foolery you can get away with. I’m coming with you next time.”

You stared at him for a moment, speechless, then let out a quiet laugh. “You’re just gonna follow me now?”

Damian just shrugged, the smallest hint of amusement flickering in his gaze, though his expression remained guarded. “Seems like it.”

You shook your head, still processing his words. “You’re serious about this?”

Damian gave you a flat look. “Do I seem like the type to joke?”

Fair point.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You do realize this is just volunteering, right? It’s not some covert mission. We play with kids, help out whenever we can, and make sure they don’t cause too much chaos.”

Damian crossed his arms. “And yet, you still managed to get into an argument about heroes.”

You groaned. “That wasn’t my fault! Caitlyn started it, Adrien made it worse, and you—” You jabbed a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “You absolutely made it worse.”

Damian smirked slightly. “Tt. If you were capable of defending yourself properly, I wouldn’t have had to step in.”

You scoffed. “Oh, please. You didn’t have to say anything. You just wanted to start something.”

He didn’t deny it, which only confirmed your suspicions.

After a beat of silence, Damian glanced at you again, his expression more neutral. “Regardless, I’m coming with you from now on.”

You sighed, watching him for a moment before shaking your head. “Fine. But no scaring the kids.”

“I don’t scare them.”

You shot him a deadpan look. “You glared at Elliot earlier just because he hugged me.”

Damian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “…He was being excessive.”

You stared at him, then just snorted, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m being real,” he corrected. Then, after a pause, he added, “Besides… it’s not terrible.”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “What’s not terrible?”

Damian averted his gaze slightly, as if the words were difficult to say. “This. What you’re doing. It’s… a respectable use of your time.”

For a moment, you just stared at him.

He wasn’t mocking you.

He wasn’t teasing.

He was being genuine, in his own roundabout way.

A small, warm feeling settled in your chest.

You bumped your shoulder against his. “Careful, Damian. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

He rolled his eyes, stepping away from you. “Tt. Don’t get used to it.”

And with that, you both walked in silence, the city stretching out around you, quieter now as night finally began to take hold of Gotham.

The morning sun crept over Central City, casting a pale golden light that contrasted sharply with the dark chaos at the crime scene. Barry Allen stepped out of his car, his CSI kit slung over his shoulder. The air was thick with tension, and despite the morning’s warmth, there was a chill in the atmosphere. Crime scenes always had this weight about them, but this one felt different.

The area was in an industrial sector, and the destruction was vast—an entire block had been decimated. Asphalt was cracked, streetlights bent and twisted like they’d been melted, and a few cars were overturned, their alarms still blaring in the distance. Barry squinted as he took in the sight. No eyewitnesses, no solid leads, just chaos and a series of barely discernible clues scattered throughout the scene.

Captain Singh stood with a few officers near the perimeter, his face set in grim determination as he watched the forensics team work. When Barry approached, the captain didn’t waste time.

“Allen. Thanks for coming,” Singh said, nodding at him.

“Of course,” Barry replied. “What do we have?”

Singh glanced over at the wreckage, his hands pressed against his hips. “We’ve got a mess on our hands. No eyewitnesses. Whoever did this didn’t leave any obvious traces of themselves—no sign of forced entry, no clear motive, nothing. Just destruction.” He gestured to the carnage around them. “Looks like a metahuman attack. Something… explosive, but we can’t find anything that matches the signature of any known metas.”

Barry took a step forward, scanning the scene. He could feel the familiar hum of his mind working faster, processing details with his trained CSI eye. The destruction was too precise, too… theatrical for a random meta attack. Barry narrowed his eyes as he walked toward the center of the blast radius, crouching down to inspect a scorch mark on the pavement. His fingers hovered just above the edges, careful not to disturb any potential evidence.

“This wasn’t a metahuman attack,” Barry said, more to himself than to Singh, but loud enough for the captain to hear.

Singh looked at him, brows furrowing. “What do you mean? This definitely feels like one.”

Barry stood, wiping his gloves on his pants, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not the kind of destruction we usually see from metas. Look at the placement of the damage—it’s deliberate, almost… artistic in a way.” He pointed to a section of the street where the cracks in the pavement were symmetrical, almost as if they’d been formed by a series of timed explosions, not some random burst of power.

Singh followed his line of sight. “So you’re saying this was someone else? Someone who isn’t a meta?”

Barry nodded slowly, stepping further into the scene, his eyes scanning every detail. “Exactly. And I think I know who.” He crouched next to a nearby overturned dumpster, carefully lifting the edge to reveal some scattered debris. “This looks familiar.”

Singh crossed his arms. “You’ve seen something like this before?”

Barry straightened, turning to Singh. “Yeah. We’ve seen this before. Trickster.” He didn’t need to elaborate much further—the name was enough.

Singh’s expression dropped slightly, his brows furrowed. “Trickster? I thought we had that guy locked up in Iron Heights?”

Before Barry could reply, another officer jogged up, his face tense. “I’m afraid not, Captain. Word just got out—Trickster was broken out of Iron Heights a few hours ago.”

Singh let out a groan, rubbing his temples. “Great. Literally what we need. Who knows where the hell he is now?”

Barry exchanged a glance with Singh before turning back to the scene. The Trickster’s style was all over this—chaotic but calculated, destruction meant to entertain him just as much as it terrorized the city. But something wasn’t sitting right.

“If he was broken out just a few hours ago,” Barry mused, “this means he didn’t have much time to plan. Which means either he had help, or this was meant to be a distraction.”

Singh exhaled sharply. “You’re telling me this might not even be his endgame?”

Barry stood up, glancing around once more. “Trickster never does anything small. If he’s free, he’s got something bigger in mind.” He turned to the officer. “Do we have any leads on how he got out?”

The officer shook his head. “Not yet. Prison security’s still trying to figure that out, but from what little info we’ve got, it wasn’t your usual smash-and-grab breakout. No external breaches, no power failures—nothing. It’s like he just walked out.”

Barry frowned. That only raised more questions. Trickster was smart, but he wasn’t exactly the subtle type. If someone had broken him out without setting off alarms, then it meant one of two things—someone with serious inside knowledge helped him, or Trickster had a new trick up his sleeve.

Singh sighed. “Alright, Allen. If this is Trickster, where does that leave us? What’s his next move?”

Barry scanned the destruction again, his mind racing. Trickster didn’t just cause chaos—he thrived on attention. If he was back in play, it wouldn’t be long before he made his presence known in a much bigger way.

“He’s not going to stay quiet,” Barry said, his voice firm. “This? This was just the opening act.” He turned back to Singh. “We need to find him before he takes things to the next level.”

Singh nodded. “Then let’s get to work.”

Barry crouched near a stack of toppled crates, his gloved hands brushing against the splintered wood. Most of the cargo had been destroyed in the blast, reduced to charred scraps and twisted metal, but something was missing. Trickster didn’t just cause chaos—he always had a purpose buried beneath the spectacle. Barry’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a shattered shipping label barely clinging to one of the crates. The faded logo still stood out.

Wayne Industries.

His brow furrowed as he shifted through the wreckage, inspecting the damage to the crates. Some had been completely obliterated, but a select few had been broken open with precision—not by the explosion, but manually. Someone had pried them open, targeting their contents specifically. Trickster wasn’t usually one for high-tech heists, which meant either he was working with someone smarter or he had a bigger plan in mind.

Barry turned to Singh, who was still surveying the scene with arms crossed. “Do we know what was stolen?”

Singh exhaled, shaking his head. “Not exactly. Just some high-tech stuff. We’re waiting on Wayne Industries to send over an inventory list.”

Barry frowned, stepping closer to the remains of the crate. He traced the edge of a deep gouge in the wood—clean, deliberate. Not random destruction. Trickster wasn’t just playing around this time.

“His MO might be leading him to Gotham,” Barry muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Singh shot him a glance. “Gotham, huh? Makes sense. If he stole something from Wayne Industries, he’ll probably need more from them. I’ll contact the GCPD, let the precinct know to keep an eye out for Jesse.”

Barry nodded, straightening as he surveyed the rest of the wreckage. There was still evidence to gather, but his mind was already piecing together the next step. If Trickster was taking his act to Gotham, then Barry needed to move fast.

He turned, already making his way toward his car, his jaw set with determination.

Looks like he’ll have to pay a friend a visit.

“So… You’re telling me,” Kon said, leaning forward, “you’re avoiding talking to her, but you can’t stop thinking about her?”

Tim shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering toward the window as he glanced at Kon. “It’s not that simple, Kon,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s… complicated.”

The manor was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the wind against the old stone walls. The large, imposing structure loomed in the distance, casting long shadows in the late afternoon light. Tim sat in the library, his fingers absently tapping against the edge of a notebook that lay open in front of him.

Kon sat across from him, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He had been trying, in his typical way, to pull Tim out of his spiraling thoughts. Not that Tim was particularly good at listening to advice. But Kon’s frustration was palpable as he watched his best friend overanalyze everything, as he usually did.

“How complicated can it be? Just talk to her, Tim. I’m pretty sure she’s not going to bite your head off.”

“She might as well.” Tim scoffed, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t help it—Kon was so simplistic, so carefree. “You don’t get it,” Tim said, his voice sharp, the frustration rising in his chest. “It’s not that easy. It’s not just about talking, okay? You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know her.”

Kon frowned, clearly not understanding. He was the type of person who didn’t dwell on things, someone who made decisions on impulse. Talking to someone was easy for him. He couldn’t comprehend the way Tim’s brain worked—how each decision was weighed, every word analyzed, every gesture broken down into a thousand potential meanings.

“Yeah, maybe I don’t know her. But you’re definitely overthinking this, Tim. Just… just go talk to her. It’s not that difficult.”

Tim shot him a pointed look, not realizing how much tension had built in his chest. “It’s everything, Kon,” he said, voice barely controlled. “It’s the way we’ve never ever talked outside of missions or patrols. It’s the way we never have a simple conversation. It’s a thousand unsaid things, a thousand missteps. Every time we’ve been in the same room, I’ve been trying to find a way fix it, and it’s never as simple as just saying ‘hey, we need to talk.’ I don’t know how to fix it. Fix this.”

Kon’s expression softened, but his response was only more frustration. “But it’s (Name), Tim. You’ve known her for years now. She’s not someone you just ignore. I saw the way you looked at her that day at the cafe. It’s obvious you care. So why are you making it harder than it needs to be?”

Tim ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Because it’s not that simple. ” he muttered, voice tinged with frustration. “I just can’t mess this up—”

But before Tim could finish, the sound of the front door opening caught their attention. Both teens turned, the familiar silhouette of Damian Wayne emerging from the shadows of the hallway. He was dressed in his usual dark attire, a slight frown on his face as he made his way toward the door, clearly about to leave.

Kon’s curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned forward in his chair, the grin returning to his face. “Hey, Damian, where’re you off to?”

Damian shot Kon a sharp look, his eyes narrowing. “Wouldn’t you like to know, fool?” he snapped, his voice dripping with annoyance. He made no effort to slow his pace as he reached the door.

“Don’t bother with him,” Tim said, waving it off. “He’s just an asshole.”

But just as Damian reached the door, his lips curled into a smirk, and he paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at them. “Well,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “if you’re so curious, Timothy, why don’t you go ask (Name) then? Maybe she’ll be willing to tell you where we’re going.” He emphasized we, letting it linger in the air like a challenge.

Tim froze.

His entire body went rigid, his mind stumbling over Damian’s words as they processed.

Wait… what?

Damian was going to where you were?

Tim’s heart skipped a beat as his mind raced.

You weren’t at the manor?

Where were you?

And why hadn’t Tim known about it?

He should have… He should have known where you were.

Before Tim can question the younger boy any further, Damian has already made his way out.

Kon immediately sensed the shift in Tim’s demeanor. The subtle change in posture, the slight tightening of his jaw, the way Tim’s eyes narrowed in thought. It was all too familiar—the way his mind was racing, overanalyzing every word Damian had just spoken. Tim was caught in that moment where the world could’ve just stopped for a second, and he could process it all, but instead, it was as if everything was happening too fast for him to catch up.

“Do I need to—” Kon started, but Tim cut him off with a sharp, urgent tone.

“I already sent them the message,” Tim said, his words almost automatic, his brain already halfway to the next step. His fingers twitched at his side. “Let’s go.”

Without waiting for another word, Tim pushed past Kon, already heading toward the door. His mind was in overdrive, a storm of questions swirling through his head. Damian knew where you were. And if he was going there now… what did that mean for them? What did that mean for him?

“Tim, wait up,” Kon called, trying to catch up, but Tim’s pace never slowed. His thoughts were a whirlwind, and he couldn’t let Damian get ahead of him—not now, not when it felt like everything was slipping out of his control. Tim had to get to you first. He had to understand what was really going on. With you. With this. With everything. He had to fix it.

Tim wasn’t sure how they got here—crouched in the bushes outside an orphanage, watching his younger siblings through the railings like some second-rate stalkers.

Well, no.

He knew exactly how they got here.

One offhand comment from Damian had sent his paranoia into overdrive. Tim hadn’t even thought before acting. His body had moved on autopilot, his brain running through a thousand possibilities at once. And before he knew it, he and his team were tailing him to figure out where you were. Now, his friends were watching him with varying levels of concern, amusement, and exasperation.

A normal person—any rational person—would probably question why he had felt the need to drag his team into this.

Luckily, Tim didn’t keep normal friends.

Unfortunately, he did keep nosy ones.

“You know,” Bart whispered, shifting beside him, “normal people just say ‘hi’ to their siblings instead of full-on stalking them.”

“I am saying hi,” Tim muttered, adjusting his binoculars.

“This is not saying hi, dude,” Kon chimed in, his arms crossed as he hovered slightly above them. “This is ‘weird obsessive surveillance.’ Big difference.”

Cassie arched a brow. “Yeah, Tim. Not that I’m judging your methods, but why are we spying on your siblings?”

Kon leaned back on his hands. “She looks fine to me. Volunteering, playing with kids—kind of the opposite of suspicious, dude.”

Tim’s brows furrowed as he watched you kneel next to a child, helping them with something on the floor. You looked so at ease—comfortable—in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. His grip tightened. “That’s the thing. She’s never done this before.”

Bart blinked. “What, helping kids?”

“No, volunteering,” Tim clarified. “She never mentioned it. Never showed interest in it before. No mention of it. No hints. No reason to be here.” His grip on the binoculars tightened. “And now, suddenly, she’s here? With him?” He gestured at Damian, who stood next to you, listening as you spoke. You were looking at him directly, face open and unguarded.

Kon scoffed. “Man, I know you have trust issues, but is her doing something like this without you knowing really that shocking?”

Tim exhaled sharply through his nose, trying not to bristle. They didn’t get it. It wasn’t just that you were here—it was why you were here, who you were here with. His mind raced through the possibilities, dissecting every expression, every shift in body language.

Since when did you do this sort of stuff with Damian of all people? Why was this the most relaxed he’d seen you in months? And why did the idea of Damian having an easier time talking to you than he did make something tighten in his chest?

“Maybe she just wants to do something good other than just being Batgirl, like Cissie.” Cassie suggested. “Not everything’s a mystery that needs solving, Tim.”

Bart hummed in agreement. “Yeah, man. Maybe you’re just looking for problems where there aren’t any.”

Tim shook his head. “No. You don’t understand. There’s something here.”

Tim hated that answer.

Because that would mean he was overreacting.

He knew how this looked. He knew he sounded paranoid.

But it meant something.

Everything meant something.

And maybe it wasn’t just about the volunteering or you doing this without telling anyone. Maybe it was about the fact that you were talking to Damian with an ease that he hadn’t gotten from you in months. Years.

Maybe it was the way you looked him in the eyes without coldness, without any hesitation.

Maybe it was because you were here with him instead of—

Tim inhaled sharply.

Was that what was bothering him? The fact that you were with Damian, talking to him, laughing with him, actually looking him in the eyes like it was the most natural thing in the world? ike he wasn’t just some impossible force you had to brace yourself against? Like he was just your little brother?

Because you didn’t look at Tim like that. Not anymore.

Maybe not ever.

“Oh, wow, he’s spiraling,” Bart whispered.

Kon smirked. “Yup. Called it.”

“Shut up,” Tim snapped.

Kon grinned. “C’mon, man, what’s actually bothering you? That she’s volunteering? Or that she’s with Damian?”

Tim scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s not—”

Bart gasped dramatically. “Oh my god, is Tim jealous of Damian?”

“Excuse me?”

Kon’s grin widened. “Oh yeah, no, I see it now. You’re totally jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” Tim gritted out. “I’m just—concerned. This isn’t normal behavior for her. Something’s going on.”

Cassie hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And that ‘something’ is…?”

Tim didn’t answer. Because he didn’t know.

But he was going to find out.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to come up with a strategy, because before he could, he saw one of the kids tugging at your sleeve, whispering something to you.

“Uh, (Name)?” Elliot whispered, pointing toward the bushes. “There are four weird people staring at us.”

Tim barely had time to duck before your gaze snapped toward him.

He knew the exact moment you realized who was watching, because your entire face shifted into one of deep, exhausted frustration. You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose before muttering, “Ignore them. They’re just weirdos.”

“Hey, wait a damn minute,” Adrien said suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “Isn’t that Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne?”

Damian barely spared a glance toward the bushes. “That imbecile and his friends have been watching us for the past twenty minutes now.”

You turned toward Damian so fast Tim swore he could feel the irritation radiating off you. “You noticed them and you didn’t say anything til now?”

Damian arched an unimpressed brow. “You didn’t notice them?” He tilted his head slightly. “How perceptive of you.”

Your eye twitched. “I hate you.”

Caitlyn, ever the peacemaker, cleared her throat. “Sooo, are we just gonna sit here and let them keep spying on us, or…?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples, then marched straight toward the bushes.

Tim barely had time to react before you reached them, and stared down at the four teens barely hiding behind the bushes.

“Busted…” Kon muttered, before Cassie shoved him in the shoulder, shutting him up. “Ow!”

The sound of laughter filled the air. Children ran past, their small, eager feet kicking up loose gravel as they shrieked in delight. Conversations overlapped—voices blending together into an indistinct hum.

Somewhere in the distance, Bart, Adrien, and Kon were loudly arguing as they were playing football with some of the young boys there, whilst Cassie and Caitlyn were talking and effortlessly charming a group of girls. And even Damian—who had initially scowled at their presence—had begrudgingly been roped into Adrien’s antics, taking part in the scuffed football match.

And yet, despite all of it, amidst all of that, amidst the warmth and joy, there was you and Tim. Standing in a corner.

Silent.

You felt it acutely. Pressing down on you, sinking into your skin, threading through your veins. It had been there the moment your gaze landed on that familiar, yet distant, figure standing just a few inches away from you.

Tim.

You hadn’t expected him to be here. You hadn’t wanted him to be here.

And yet, here he was.

Standing in the periphery of it all, watching.

Watching the children play.

Watching his friends mingle with yours.

Watching you.

Your first instinct was to ignore it.

You had spent years learning how to ignore it.

Because this was Tim.

And Tim knew how to pick people apart.

Tim liked picking people apart.

His eyes had always been observant, always quick to catch the things no one else noticed. The slight shifts in body language, the tension in someone’s shoulders, the weight behind a hesitation—he saw it all.

And it took everything in you not to visibly tense under his gaze.

Tim had always been good at reading people. Too good.

His eyes had a way of seeing things no one else did, of picking apart truths you didn’t even realise you were giving away. And right now, you could feel his stare burrowing into you, scrutinizing, analyzing—

And you knew what that meant.

It meant that you had slipped. That somehow, in some way, you had left something exposed—some stray emotion, some unguarded expression—something that had caught his attention.

And that was a problem.

Because Tim Drake never lets things go.

It made your skin crawl.

The air between you two was suffocatingly tense, pressing against your skin like a thick, unshakable weight. Neither of you spoke, neither of you moved. Just standing there, existing, as if acknowledging the other would set off some kind of inevitable explosion.

You weren’t sure what you hated more—the fact that he was here at all, or the fact that you couldn’t even read a single thing off his face.

Tim had always been good at reading people, but he himself was hard to read.

But right now, right at this moment, it felt like there was something—something simmering just beneath the surface of his carefully controlled expression. And you hated that you couldn’t tell what it was.

What the hell was he thinking?

Then again—what did you even know about Tim anymore? What more could you possibly know about him?

Your fingers curled into fists, frustration swelling inside you like an unspoken scream, and you exhaled sharply through your nose, an exasperated sigh escaping before you could stop it.

You could walk away.

You should walk away.

But you knew Tim well enough.

Well enough to know that if you didn’t talk to him now, he would find another time, another place. It didn’t matter when. It didn’t matter where.

Eventually, he would corner you.

And you refused to let him have that power over you.

Not anymore.

Your sigh must have been loud enough to shake Tim from his own thoughts, because his head tilted slightly, his eyes shifting toward you. A flicker of something passed over his face—something you couldn’t quite place—but then it was gone, buried beneath that infuriatingly unreadable mask.

Because he was looking at you now, now, after everything, after all this time—

Like he suddenly cared.

Like he suddenly wanted to understand.

It made you want to laugh. To scoff. To spit something sharp and biting just to cut this tension in half.

Instead, you exhaled sharply, tilting your head to meet his gaze head-on.

“So. Why are you here?”

It came out flat. Cold. No anger, no warmth—just… nothing.

Tim blinked, almost as if he hadn’t expected you to address him first.

For a brief moment, you thought—hoped, even—that he wouldn’t answer. That he would realize this wasn’t something he could just waltz into. That he would turn around and leave, sparing you both from whatever this conversation was bound to become.

But of course, he didn’t.

“…Just wanted to know what you’ve been doing.”

That was all he said.

Like it was that simple. Like it made sense.

As if he could just say something like that and expect you to accept it.

You let out a breathy scoff, eyes narrowing slightly as your lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Wow.”

Tim didn’t react. He just stood there, waiting.

Waiting for you to say something else.

So you did.

“Why?”

Your voice carried a weight to it now. Heavier.

Tim’s brows knit together slightly, as if confused by your reaction. “Is it wrong for me to be curious?”

You let out a dry laugh. “No. But it is unlike you to want to know what I’ve been doing.”

And there it was.

The first visible crack in his carefully controlled expression.

It was subtle—the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers curled just slightly at his sides—but you saw it.

You saw all of it.

And it made something bitter rise in your throat.

“Why is it unlike me?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You stared at him.

You stared at him.

Was he serious?

Was he actually serious right now?

Your breath came out slow and measured as you crossed your arms. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

Silence.

Tim didn’t say anything.

Didn’t deny it. Didn’t confirm it.

And that was answer enough.

Something in you cracked.

It shouldn’t have bothered you this much. It shouldn’t have.

But it did.

Because the way he was looking at you now—like you were some unsolved puzzle, like you were some missing piece he was only now realising wasn’t where it should be—

It pissed you off.

It pissed you off.

Because where the hell was this before?

Where the hell was this when it mattered?

Your fingers dug into your arms as you inhaled sharply, forcing down the words clawing their way up your throat.

“You didn’t seem to care before.”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Tim visibly flinched.

It was small—barely noticeable—but you saw it.

You felt it.

And for some reason, that only made the frustration burn hotter.

Tim’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something—like he needed to say something—but nothing came out.

Nothing.

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

Tim’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

His face was unreadable, but you could see the thoughts racing in his head. You could see the way his mind was whirring, processing, analyzing—

Like this was some equation he just had to solve.

Like there was some answer that could fix this.

Tim was very quickly starting to regret this.

He hadn’t even had time to process being dragged inside before his friends had immediately assimilated with the environment.

Leaving him alone with you.

You.

He should be happy—relieved, that he was finally given the opportunity to talk to you.

Alone.

Without anyone interrupting you both.

So why—

Why was this so awkward?

Why was this so painful?

Why were you being so… cold?

So unlike how he’d seen you just a few moments ago.

Sminling, laughing.

Every bit of that had been erased from your face the moment you were left alone with him.

And Tim hates that.

Hates how you’re talking to him like he’s a stranger.

He wasn’t.

He definitely wasn’t.

Was he?

Your words echoed in his head.

Over and over and over again.

“You didn’t seem to care before.”

He should say something.

He should say something.

But the words wouldn’t come out.

Because what was he supposed to say?

What could he say?

That he had cared? That he had noticed you?

But his throat felt tight, words stuck somewhere between his mind and his mouth, refusing to come out.

You were standing right there, your arms crossed, eyes sharp and defensive, the tension so thick it was suffocating. And Tim hated it.

Why the hell couldn’t he just say the things he needed to say to you?

He had never had a problem speaking his mind before. If something needed to be said, he said it. If something needed to be done, he did it.

So why was it that, when it came to you, he was just… stuck?

His mind scrambled for proof, for evidence, for something to counter your words—he had checked in on your patrols, he covered for your mistakes, he had told you when you were being reckless, he made sure to tell you what not to do again—

Because of the missions.

Because the missions had to go smoothly.

Because it was his job.

Because everything had to go right.

Tim felt his stomach twist.

That wasn’t—

That couldn’t be the only reason.

That wasn’t the only reason.

So why the hell was that the first thing he thought of?

That wasn’t the reason he had done those things, was it?

No. No, that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t it.

He had always cared about you. Not just as an asset. Not just as a partner in the field.

He had cared about you.

Hadn’t he?

He did care.

Didn’t he?

He still cares.

Doesn’t he?

His fingers clenched tighter.

Why couldn’t he find the answer?

Why couldn’t he prove it?

Why couldn’t he just—

“You didn’t seem to care before.”

The words still rang in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull, refusing to leave.

What did you think of him now?

What had you always thought of him?

Had you spent all this time believing he hadn’t cared? That you were—what?—nothing more than some afterthought to him? That you’re just some colleague to him?

Was that his fault?

Did he make you feel that way?

Did he do that?

The thought made him sick.

He needed to fix this.

He needs to fix this.

But how the hell was he supposed to do that when he didn’t even know where to start?

His breath was uneven now, his chest tightening—

“…I always cared.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

You froze.

Your entire body went rigid, eyes snapping up to Tim in disbelief.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. He just looked at you—his expression unreadable, his hands still clenched at his sides. But his gaze was steady, as if he believed the words he had just said.

But did he?

Did he really?

Because you sure as hell didn’t.

And then—

You saw it.

You saw the desperation in his eyes.

And for a moment, you almost believed him.

Almost.

“Bullshit.”

And there it was.

The first crack in his carefully composed mask.

It was small—subtle—but you saw it.

And it made something sharp twist in your chest.

Tim blinked, actually taken aback by that.

“What do you mean ‘bullshit’?” he said, frustration creeping into his tone, a slight undertone of… hurt?

You shook your head. “I mean that’s bullshit, Tim. You didn’t care.”

“I did, (Name). I still do—”

And you hated how much he sounded like he meant it.

Hated how much you wanted to believe him.

Because what did he expect?

What did he think was going to happen here?

Did he think you’d just—what?—drop everything, smile, and act like nothing had changed? Like the years hadn’t happened? Like the distance between you both hadn’t grown into something wide and impassable?

That wasn’t how this worked.

But you knew what would happen.

Because you had seen it before.

Because this was what Tim did.

Because for Tim, every problem was a puzzle, a mystery to solve.

And right now?

Right now, he was trying to figure you out.

Trying to find some angle, some logic, some answer that would make all of this make sense.

And the worst part?

The worst part was that he genuinely didn’t realize that this wasn’t something he could fix.

That there wasn’t some logical answer to find.

That this wasn’t about some mystery.

That this was about you.

About him.

About you both.

About what you did and didn’t do.

About what he did and didn’t do.

About what was there and what wasn’t.

And suddenly, you were tired.

So, so tired.

“No, Tim.” You inhaled sharply. “Don’t. I’m not here to listen to whatever this is. The least you can do after following me like this is help out with the kids with your friends.”

Tim’s lips parted slightly, his expression shifting.

But you weren’t going to let him get another word in.

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

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there.

Alone.

Tim’s breath hitched.

Because that—that felt final.

That felt like a goodbye.

Did you really think that was all you were to him?

A bother? A nuisance?

Did you really believe that?

And—fuck—had he shown anything otherwise?

He wanted to go after you. To make you hear him out.

But for the first time in his life, Tim didn’t know what to say.

And that realization was a punch to the gut.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

But it did.

Because this was Tim.

Tim, who had always been too smart for his own good.

Tim, who had always known how to read between the lines.

Tim, who had always been able to see the things no one else could.

And yet—

Yet, when it came to you—

He was blind.

Or maybe he had just never bothered to look.

But right now, his eyes were wide open, and he was seriously looking.

And he was starting to see things he’s never seen before.

lol second part of chapter 7 🫣 this is definitely way shorter than part 1 but part 3 will kind of make up for it (hopefully 🥲) and also guys tim is one of my favs pls don’t be too harsh on him in the comments (even though he kind of deserves it in this series, but hopefully yall can see that it’s kind of reader and tim’s fault for whatever nonexistent bond they have going on, prob will have more backstory/flashback scenes to them soon) part 3 soon but not kinda soon but eventually

taglist is closed‼️

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[gay-dorito-dust]

I’d die for you.

Viktor:

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Please don’t.’ He says almost pleading with you to reconsider after hearing you say such a thing, to be willing to trade off your own life for his own that was already on borrowed time, so wouldn’t your sacrifice be a waste if he was bound to die regardless?

He came from the undercity where loss was an constant occurrence and survival was the norm. So the idea of loosing you wasn’t one he’d warmly welcome nor want to endure as he’d only bury himself deep within his work, going to such lengths with the off chance that he could theoretically bring you back from the cold embrace of death,

‘You’ve got so much ahead of you Viktor.’ You countered. ‘So much to do to achieve your goal of helping others!’ You add.

Viktor moves to look at you from his workplace with a raised brow. ‘And so you automatically think your life is forfeit in comparison because of this?’ He asks as if to show you just how ridiculous it was to just throw your life away because you believed his dreams for the future outweighed the worth of that of your own life.

You stayed quiet as you could see the disbelief clear within his amber eyes as he grabbed his cane and made his way over to you to hold your hand in his long, slender and calloused ones as they caress the back of your knuckles. ‘For it’s not. No life is more important than the others solely based on what the person can give to others.’ Viktor tells you as sits himself down next to you.

‘Our lives are of equal value and I’d would much rather you’d live for me instead.’ He says with a small smile. ‘Do you think you can do that for me?’ He then asks softly, intertwining your fingers together. You smiled back at him. ‘I can sure try as long as you do too.’ You replied and Viktor let out a sigh of relief, squeezing your hand in thanks.

‘Then we shall live for each other.’ Viktor said but little did you know that he’d be lying and he wasn’t going to be staying very soon.

Ekko:

‘I’d gladly die for you.’

‘No, you wont.’ Those words might’ve come out more harsher than Ekko wanted but he wasn’t about to let you joke about trading your life for his own. He just wouldn’t.

Even now the idea of you being the self sacrificial hero made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. He was the one who should be protecting you, protecting everybody really and once his mind was made up Ekko was more or less an immovable object, never yielding and never budging from his ideals for nothing.

So to say he wasn’t liking the idea of you dying on him was an understatement. He didn’t like it for a plethora of reasons as he’s already lost enough people close to his heart, he wasn’t willing to have you be amongst them, painted on the mural by his own hand as he feels the guilt and grief eat away at his heart. ‘Promise me you won’t be reckless the next time we’re out on a mission.’ He gives you his pinky, something you two did when you were being serious about things.

‘Ekko-‘

‘Promise me you won’t.’ Ekko cuts you off in desperation, his eyes wide and his breathing becoming rapid and uneven the longer you didn’t immediately link pinkies with him like you usually did, it had him feeling as though his heart had dropped to his stomach. ‘I don’t want to loose another person I love.’ He adds and you interlock your pinkies with him before being pulled into his strong embrace where he buried his face into yours neck, not wanting to let go of you after hearing that statement leave your mouth.

‘I’m not ready to say goodbye to you just yet.’ He whispered into your neck, grip tightening on you as he feels you rub his back soothingly. Ekko wasn’t ready for the day he’d have to say goodbye to you and so until that day he’ll keep protecting you until he couldn’t anymore, for he’d rather see you move on forward without him, but if he knew you as well as he did then you would just be equally as stubborn to see him live another day.

So he’ll just keep ahold of you like this everyday when you were alone just to remind himself that you were still here and here you will stay.

Silco (young) :

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Don’t say such things, haven’t we suffered enough?’ He’d say as he has you by your shoulders, his grip tightening in tandem with the idea of possibly loosing you to all sorts of things, whether it’d be Zaun or the corrupt enforcers from topside. Silco wasn’t exactly willing to lose the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

It was a day he’d never wish to see pass him by as he didn’t know what he would do should he find you dead in the rubble from a something that was purposely intended for him, he’d blame himself and be left to seek solitude in the darkness and shadows should that ever be the case.

‘But it’s true.’ You’d reply.

Silco grits his teeth at your stubbornness but it was one of your defining traits that he deeply adored. ‘Well I’m not going to allow it.’ He retorted. ‘I won’t allow you to hastily throw your life away just because you felt like being a hero.’ He practically spat out the last part as though it were poison. Hero what the hell has being a hero ever done for anyone? Nothing that’s what and Silco would refused you at every time you got like this, not once liking the implications it left within his head.

‘Not a hero, just someone who cares enough about another person to be willing to see them keep living, even if it means dying in the process.’ You defended yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued to look him in the eyes to prove your words true, but you didn’t need to do that for Silco knew well enough you were a person of your word, never once going back on it when you probably should’ve.

‘Heroes don’t exist in Zaun.’ Silco said as he rests his head against yours, looking you in the eyes. ‘So don’t try and be the first for I don’t want to be the one to make your mural. Don’t make me have to leave you behind. Don’t make me mourn for what we could’ve had.’ He pleads with you as you gently hold his face and caress his cheeks, allowing him the chance to rest his eyes and drink you in through your touch.

He didn’t like the idea of you dying before him, not one bit, so he’ll try and make sure that you survive together long enough to see the betterment of Zaun.

[all-my-love-for-harry]

English isn't my first language but do you know Kangaroo Care? Like when the baby is on the bare chest of the parents? Can we take a second to imagine Jake Seresin with his slightly premature born baby on his naked chest to bond with the baby?😻🙀

Warm Enough for Both of Us

word count; 1.2k

masterlist. part 2

The room was warm. Not from the thermostat, but from something quieter — gentler.

Jake sat still in the rocking chair, bare from the waist up, a hospital blanket draped loosely over his shoulders and across the tiny sleeping body curled against his chest.

His daughter.

His daughter.

All six pounds and two ounces of her. No longer red and wrinkled but soft and settling, her skin like silk, her breath shallow and even against his collarbone. Her fist was no bigger than his thumb joint. Her ear, pressed flat to his chest, fluttered with every slow beat of his heart. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

It had only been a few hours, but Jake Seresin — callsign Hangman, Top Gun’s golden boy, fighter pilot turned naval officer — had already mapped every detail of her tiny, miraculous existence.

She had your nose. His chin. The same dimpled cheeks that made him blush the first time you told him you loved him. Her hair was fine and blond and stuck up at the back like she’d arrived with somewhere to be. Her mouth moved now and then in little suckling motions, even as she slept, and he couldn’t help it — he reached up, just barely, and stroked her temple with his pinky.

“Hey, sunshine,” he whispered.

The baby didn’t stir.

The nurse had told him it was good she was sleeping — that she needed warmth and contact, that kangaroo care was one of the best things they could offer while you were recovering. Jake had nodded along, done everything she asked — shifted his chair, pulled his shirt off, tucked her against his chest, and held still while they placed her little body upright against him, skin-to-skin.

At first, it had felt surreal. Strange. Too intimate, too immediate.

Now?

Now, he didn’t want to move. Not ever again.

The door had clicked shut twenty minutes ago, leaving him alone in the room. The nurse had whispered that she’d give him a little privacy. Said he’d know what to do. Said he was doing just fine.

He didn’t feel like he was doing fine.

Because you weren’t here.

Because you had lost too much blood after delivery — more than anyone was expecting. One second, you were crying and laughing, fingers wrapped around his hand as your baby came screaming into the world… and the next, your face had gone slack with pain, your grip had gone limp, and the delivery room had burst into motion.

Too much blood. Too fast. Too soon.

The doctor’s voice had blurred in his ears.

Placenta complication. Internal bleeding. Rushed to the ICU. Close monitoring. You’d be okay. You were in good hands. She needs her father right now.

Jake had moved like he was underwater. Hands shaking. Shirt off. Baby placed in his arms before his mind caught up with what was happening.

But now — now that he was here, now that she was here — the panic had ebbed, and something else was taking its place. Something weightless and infinite. Something like wonder.

Her warmth was unreal.

Tiny as she was, she radiated heat. Her skin was flushed with life, and her little fingers — curled against his chest like she was trying to hold onto the beat of his heart — moved every now and then like she was dreaming.

Jake kept his palm cradled across her back, careful not to press too hard.

His hand spanned nearly her entire body.

Christ, she was small.

He tilted his head back against the chair and let his eyes close for a moment, exhaling slowly.

“Your mom’s gonna be okay,” he murmured. “I promise.”

He wasn’t sure if he was saying it for his daughter or for himself.

Probably both.

Jake cracked his eyes open again and looked down at her. She hadn’t moved. Not really. Just a little scrunch of her nose, a deeper breath, a tiny sigh against his chest.

His heart tugged.

“She’s tough,” he added, quieter now. “The strongest woman I know. You’ve got her in you, you know that? That’s why you came out screaming.”

He smiled to himself.

That scream had torn through the room like a fire alarm. Jake hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he heard it. And then it was just noise and tears and motion — and you, collapsing, your lips pale and body going limp.

Jake’s throat tightened again.

He rubbed the baby's back slowly, steadying his own pulse. “You scared me, you know. Both of you did. But you’re here. And she’s gonna be okay.”

The baby shifted, murmured softly — not a cry, just a sleepy adjustment. Jake curled his arm tighter around her and rocked just slightly.

He hadn’t rocked a chair since he was a kid.

Funny, how everything could change in a blink.

Funny, how right this felt.

He watched the gentle rise and fall of her back against his chest, the way her breath synced with his like they’d been doing this for years.

“You know,” he whispered, brushing her hair back again, “I was scared about this.”

No answer. Just warmth.

“Being a dad. I didn’t say it out loud, because I thought that made me weak. But I was. I didn’t know if I’d be good at this.”

He paused.

“You don’t come with a manual, sunshine. And your mama’s always been the smart one. But I’m gonna figure it out. I swear to God, I’m gonna figure it out.”

The baby curled a little closer, her breath fogging lightly against his chest.

“I’ll learn how to swaddle you the way she does,” he whispered. “I’ll read every book. I’ll get up in the middle of the night. Hell, I’ll even learn how to braid hair if that’s what you want.”

His voice caught again. “But you’ve gotta promise me something, okay?”

He looked down.

“I need you to bring her home to me. I need her here. I need you both.”

Silence. Just the hush of the nursery, the slow creak of the rocker, and the rhythm of two hearts — one steady, one brand new.

Jake swallowed hard and let his lips rest against the crown of his daughter’s head.

They stayed like that a while.

Minutes. Maybe hours. He didn’t check the clock. He didn’t want to.

She shifted once, a tiny stretch of her arms before settling again. Jake just smiled.

“Hey,” he whispered, “don’t let anyone tell you this isn’t the best job in the world. Being your dad? I’d trade my wings for this any day.”

He rocked a little more, the movement slow, hypnotic. The room was dim now, the light from the hallway casting soft shadows across the floor. He could hear the murmur of nurses outside, the occasional squeak of shoes or monitor beep, but it all felt far away.

Right here, in this chair, he was present. Rooted. Whole.

And for the first time in hours, he wasn’t afraid.

Because she was here. Because you were fighting. Because this tiny, perfect human was curled against him like she belonged there.

Jake smiled down at her again.

“You know,” he said softly, “you’re already a miracle. You don’t even know it yet.”

His daughter breathed, slow and even.

“And when your mom wakes up,” he whispered, “I’m gonna put you in her arms, and it’s gonna be the best day of my life.”

[grenadehearts]

You and Bakugo have always had a strange sort of friendship. To everyone else, it borders on something more. To family, it’s always just been there—an unspoken truth, stitched into the fabric of your lives. But to you and Bakugo… it’s fragile. Something never named, never touched too directly, for fear that naming it would shatter it completely.

Every night since you were kids, you'd find each other. Pinkies intertwined. Sharing whispered secrets in the dark. It started in the oddest way—you were six, full of bravado after watching one too many scary movies, insisting with a triumphant little grin that you could handle anything. But when night fell and the creaking floorboards echoed louder than your courage, your parents' snores down the hall offered no comfort.

Bakugo was just down the corridor in the guest room. His parents were away on a work trip, so yours were watching him for the weekend. Clutching your ragged plush toy, heart pounding, you crept across the hallway and nudged his door open with trembling fingers.

He groaned at the intrusion but shifted over without a word, making room. You crawled into the bed beside him. You talked his ear off that night, voice trembling at first, then steadier the longer he stayed quiet and let you speak. He didn’t sleep—not until your breathing softened and slowed beside him. You thought it would be a one-time thing. But the next night, it was Bakugo who tiptoed into your room, muttering under his breath as he slid beneath your covers while glow-in-the-dark stars shone faintly on the ceiling.

And after that… it became your thing.

When he wasn’t sleeping over, he called. Night after night. Holding the phone to his ear until your voice faded into static and sleep. No promises made. No rules laid out. Just something that always was.

Even after getting into U.A., when dorm life swallowed up your old routines, Bakugo still found his way back to you. Your door was never locked. Not to him.

Like tonight.

Pale moonlight seeps through your curtains, washing your room in silver. A cool breeze slips beneath the covers, sending a shiver up your spine. You lay awake, every nerve buzzing.

The war has just begun. Katsuki’s bruised, stitched, and bleeding. You saw it happen—how the metal tore through him, how his eyes widened not in pain but in fear, just for a second. He brushed you off, spat that he was fine through gritted teeth. But you heard the tremble buried beneath the bite. The whimper he didn’t let out.

Now, you're just waiting. You always know when he’ll come.

Even when he's furious with you—even when the world is falling apart—he still finds his way to your bed.

You hear the quiet click of your door. The soft pad of slippered feet on the floor. The familiar weight of him sinking into your mattress.

"Katsuki," you whisper into the darkness.

He grunts in response, already pulling the covers over both of you.

You lie rigid, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying not to breathe too loud—like if you take up too much space, he might leave.

Another grunt. “Well? What’d ya want?”

You exhale shakily. “Are you okay? I know you hate when I ask. I know you’re strong—I do. But I saw it, Katsuki. I saw it impale you. I saw the fear in your eyes and—” your voice wavers, “—I know you act like nothing gets to you, but you're human. You’re just human.”

Your palms are clammy. You’re spiraling, but you can’t stop.

“If I lost you—if something happened to you and I couldn’t stop it—it would kill me. You trying to be invincible all the time… it scares the shit out of me. And I’m scared, Katsuki. I’m scared you’re going to stop this—whatever this is. I’m scared you’ll get yourself hurt trying to be a goddamn hero and I’ll be left behind, pretending I’m okay.”

Silence.

You brace for the explosion—for the door slam, the cursing, the rage.

But instead, he exhales something like a sigh and a growl, then shifts closer. His hand finds yours and pulls it gently to his ribs. You feel the heat of bruises blooming beneath bandages. His skin is warm, tacky with dried sweat, the faint tang of antiseptic still lingering.

Your eyes adjust. Katsuki is bathed in moonlight. Hair like wildfire frozen in silver. Shirtless. His chest wrapped in gauze, peppered with angry red marks and tape.

“Suki,” you breathe, fingers ghosting over a fresh bandage.

“Hush,” he whispers, voice rasped and tight. “I’m fine. Quit worrying.”

But his body trembles, just slightly, as he lays his head on your chest. You hold still—too still. Your heartbeat slams in your ears. You know he can hear it.

He speaks again, low and raw. “Don’t say dumb shit. I’m not gonna stop coming here. It’s our thing.” He swallows. “Why would I quit something good?”

You blink back the tears. “But we’re going to get older. Things will change. You’ll meet someone—like, really meet someone. Fall in love. And I won’t know what we are anymore. You’ll forget this. You’ll forget me.”

He lifts his head to look at you—sharp red eyes cutting through the dark.

“You know what we are.”

You shake your head slowly. “Friends don’t do this, Katsuki.”

He lets out a sharp sigh, frustrated, fingers threading through his hair. “You really that dense?” His voice softens, barely. “You think I sneak into your bed every night for fun? I love you, idiot. Always have. But if you’re gonna keep pretending this is nothing—”

You don’t let him finish. You surge forward and kiss him.

Hard.

So hard his head hits the pillow and his hands fly to your face, gripping tight, tangling in your hair. He tastes like blood and iron, like adrenaline and raw emotion. Like something dangerous you crave anyway. Every kiss drags you deeper into him—into the heart that explodes like a grenade, messy and violent and real.

You pull away only when your lungs scream for air. Chests heaving. His forehead presses to yours, eyes fluttering shut.

“That was so fucking stupid,” he mutters.

And then he kisses you again.

This time slower. Deeper. Sweeter.

And when he rolls over you, planting himself above you with that cocky, battle-worn grin—you know. You know this has never been just friendship. This has always been love.

A love too loud to speak.

Until now.

masterlist

taglist: @xoxojisu @candiiee @luvseraphh @cvnt4him @soundtrqck @chlosology @lotusstarr @cupkiki @wokasiv @badslittlemuffin @princessshnazzy @203steph @chitteringcicadaeyes @idk1187 @notartemis777 @chosostonguepiercing @chocolatedefendorbaa @t33th--r0t @3lenaatvt @the-faceless-bride @tuneinwlosers @badslittlemuffin @dreamcastgirl99 @gethexxed @moonstonejpg @pluto-9456 @wonubby @kye1aaazene @izukusfangirl @van9lla @dienamiight @sofi4dsam @kawaiiclubdaily @therefore-evermore @bluemailhiot @luckybibucky @sk1ppy-art @d011yyxx @myths-and-ledgends @icanread-icantwrite @changkyunnnie @blue-birdie-bixch @aj1j @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @calliopemanga

[euphoria-looney]

Astro!

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader Squid Games!AU

m. list|next

"And goodness knows, The Wicked's Lives are lonely. Goodness knows, The Wicked die alone. It just shows, when you're wicked, You're left only, on your own." 'No One Mourns The Wicked' by Wicked the Musical

Divider creds: (?) and @dollywons

As a kid, all I longed for was someone to play a game with me that didn’t require some form of technology to keep both of us entertained.

Well, be careful what you wish for, because I have reached an all-time low, willing to kill people with children's games to earn money.

How much longer will I spend in this twisted game before getting killed? Maybe this is better whether I win or lose, I still gain freedom.

One choice is just the better option. 

That’d be losing winning.

Sure I would feel immense guilt, but I’d be free from debt… and then what? No longer needing to slave anyway from the amount of money I receive.

What then?

Could therapy even help? They’d probably send me off to a mental ward. 

Who's going to believe I won millions from playing some children’s games?

I looked around and saw the old man again from earlier, sitting alone in a space, I approached him, and he accepted to play with me.

“When I was little, this was one of my favorite games as a child.” The old man told us while we were walking into an open area.

“Really? I’ll be honest, I’ve never played this game before.”

As we finally found a point to play the game, we conversed.

—

“Did we do this to make a pact?”

He held out his hand, his pinkie and thumb sticking out, I laughed, wrapping my pinkie around his, pressing our thumbs together.

“Sir, no my gganbu- I think that’s what they called a really close friend right?”

—

Eventually we went all for nothing, this was the funniest game I ever played… I almost forgot the fact that I was going to die at the end.

“Ah, guess you won, betting all my marbles for your single one. Didn’t see that one coming.” I chuckled sadly.

He held my hand and placed the last marble in my palm.

“Take it, it’s yours anyway.” I looked up at him in shock, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“We are gganbu aren’t we? Remember we swore on it. And Gganbu always shares everything no matter what. You made this all possible.” My shoulder shook, as I could only stare at my shoes, my eyes felt like facets at the point. 

And then I felt these same hands embrace me, and I felt like a child all over again.

“What a great way to go.”

He pulled away, making me face him.

“Thank you. I had a good time.”

I hugged him once again, my tears overflowing on his shoulders.

He let go and I walked out of the gates.

Sniffles were all I could do before I heard the voice behind me.

“I remember my name now. My name is Il-nam. Oh Il-nam.”

I kept walking then flinched when I heard a ‘bang’ go off.

Surrounded by all these dead bodies, and these empty emotions, I pushed forward.

[Player 1, Eliminated]

—

Despite everything, I’m still having these selfish thoughts of staying alive.

We had just played ‘glass bridge’ leaving three of us here, dressed in suits, and eventually I was talking with Penelope, she’s the one that helped me out of the restraint we were in after we left for the first time.

“Hey, [name], just in case either of us can actually make it out of this hellhole, promise that we will take care of each other's loved ones, okay?” 

“Don’t say that, we’ll be okay.”

But she took more damage than any of us once the glass had shattered and was losing blood fast.

“Stay where you are, I’ll go get someone.”

I left and went to the guard or whatever they were, to beg, plead, for a doctor, maybe one that could’ve been on standby, but instead they walked past me with a coffin.

I could only stare at my once best friend standing over her bed.

I ran over there and held her body up, shaking her for some sign of hope.

“No, Penelope, please, no…”

—

Approaching the end game, we ate a feast, so fresh and nicely made, I felt the need to puke.

We place in the field shapes surrounding us, to resemble a squid, this was, Squid Game.

The rain soaking both of us, gray skies, and a single guard on the side.

Astro’s shirt still soaked in blood, his suit back on. He spoke before the game began, a knife in hand.

“I ended her suffering. You know she would have died anyway.”

The tears that once stained my face had been washed off by the rain, and now I could only feel disdain for the man I once knew in front of me.

“That’s bullshit, stop lying. She could’ve survived, they could have treated her.”

He retorted.

“I know what you’re like, you’re the reason I had to kill her. I knew you two would stop all this, so she didn’t die there. Even though we’ve gone so far, just to quit?” 

It seemed so similar to the time back at the manor.

—

“Damian had a lot happen to him as a child, are you going to blame him for this?” Dick sighed Damian behind him with no remorse for the fact I had slashes on my arm, not deep but painful. And though they wouldn’t leave scars, would that really matter?

He held a weapon against me while all I had was a stack of books now discarded and torn on the ground.

“[name]. You’re older than him, he’s still a child. You are the reason for this, it could’ve been avoided if you didn’t egg things on. Don’t blame Damian for your faults.” Egg him on? All I did was try and avoid him.

It wasn’t fair.

—

Now, if it wasn’t high before, my blood pressure had to be spiking. For that petty reason? Simply because he didn’t want all of this going to waste?

“Was that it? You killed someone because this might end?” My voice trembled.

“Yeah! You and that girl would have been the majority you needed to get out! Going home without anything! I couldn’t live with that!”

“And you think that means anything?! What?! one more life on top of the others you’ve stolen isn’t enough, and won’t be enough until you receive something?! You’d rather have one more dead than for all three of us to leave and somehow find another way to bring something, anything home?!” I shouted back at him.

I took my knife out of my pocket.

“It's over…”

“I won’t let you leave here with the money.”

3RD POV

While the VIP’s finally stood up to watch this entertaining last game.

Two people who have developed over time physically and mentally, once friends, were squabbling, fighting with very small amounts of energy, but a passion to win.

Both stabbed the other when eventually, player 456 was able to get the other on the ground and punched him over and over again.

The Waynes couldn’t help but be relieved this was it, they’d never let her go again, they would make up for everything starting with making sure she would be okay.

“Found the location heading there soon!” They heard Cassandra on the other line.

Late, but they would make it.

—

[name]’s POV

I held my knife, before stabbing it into the field, next to his face, before limping over to the goal point, it felt miles anyway, the guard had his gun loaded and aimed at Astro.

There before me was the practical finish line.

I can’t… No, I refuse to if anything, playing this game has fucked me other the head, but I refuse for one second to let this game be the last thing I ever see Astro at.

“I wanna end here.” I face the guard walking back to them.

“Clause Three of the agreement. The players are able to end the game when the majority agrees, so if we both give up,  you have to end it right?” I stumbled over.

The guard spoke on the walkie-talkie while I gazed back at Astro.

“Astro.”

“Back when we went to the same school, we’d hang out together and study before leaving chasing after our purpose that called out for us. Nothing's calling anymore.” After all this time, he still is.

I smiled at him, that once gummy smile I adorned, one that I hated so much.

“Let’s go”

I extended my hand to him. 

“Let’s go together.”

He slowly lifted his hand.

“[name], I’m sorry.” 

And before I could react, he took that hand and grabbed the knife that I put right next to him, and impaled himself in the neck with it. 

Blood gushed out and he choked out blood.

I quickly went to his side, stabilizing his head.

“Astro! Astro!”

“[name]..”

“No, no, don’t speak! Hang on!” I was panicking, this can’t be the end of us.

“M-my mother, please take care of my mom. And…”

“I love you.” That made me freeze my erratic movements, I was sure he could’ve seen my eyes widen.

“Loved you since meeting you.” With that, he closed his eyes and I could only call out his name, and held onto his body, it was getting colder fast.

[Player 218, Eliminated. Congratulations, Player456]

—

3rd POV

“Believe in Jesus or go to Hell!” A guy holding two signs chanted outside in the rain, strangers walking past each other, a white limo rolled up on the side of the street, dumping a bruised and exhausted body on the sidewalk, the same guy chanting untied the girl.

“Believe in Jesus.”

The girl was in the bank depositing 4.56 billion dollars before withdrawing some out. Her hair a mess, eyes sullen and eye bags that dragged down her face, she seemed exhausted. Walking back to the store she once worked at, a sign stated ‘SOLD’ and next to it a reef, “Rest in Peace, Conny Claire, Died too soon, old shop owner that meant so much to many people.” Flowers that surround the message.

The girl that came there for a snack could only sink to the ground in shock, hands rising to cover her face, body shaking and quivering.

Walking down a store alleyway, Astro’s mom approached the girl.

“How have you been, here take some food for the road after losing…” She sighed, and patted the girl's back, walking back to her shop.

“Have you heard from… Nevermind.” 

The girl opened her run down apartment where she once lived and went to see all the old photos in the yearbook of classes she had with Astro and in all of the group ones featuring her, her classmates, and Astro she noticed how in each one he was looking at her, with those fond eyes.

She could only fall onto her bed, her tired state crept on her before she fell asleep.

Some time later, the girl kept her promise to Penelope and helped out her family, then left them with Astro’s mom, leaving a wealthy sum of money, they became a family… somewhat of a replacement for the other's loved one, and the girl left paying off whatever debt any of them had.

The girl was sitting alone at the pond, drinking some alcohol. Before an old woman approached her, a flower basket in hand, it seemed she needed to sell them immediately before they wilted away. The girl reached into her pocket, handing her some money before the old woman went off. 

Picking up the nicely wrapped flower, a card appeared, making the girl stumble at picking up the card before reading it.

Approaching a hospital, card in hand.

It was the old man.

“What is this… Who are you?”

“Pour some water for me. Please, [name].”

And there she sat, anger rising in her, but she couldn’t do anything against the man who made the games.

She sat listening to the man talk, about the homeless guy below them, about how everything he said about himself was true, how he missed the old days, him and his friend used to have the time of their lives, and how no matter if you're homeless or rich both lives are no fun. Then a clock struck.

She looked at the machine to see that his heart was no longer beating, instead a flat line appeared. Getting up, she closed his eyes.

That’s when she finally started her life again. She got it together.

So, at the first place, her life changed at the same bus stop, well across from it, the skies were clear and the sun was glaring into the area. It had been a regular day for her, working at her own company and all.

Maybe that’s why when she unlocked her car and stared right in front of her at that same place, she was shocked to see her father, Bruce Wayne, and his family.

That’s it for this part of Astro! Did you like it?

Also, unlike Squid Game, soon after [name] left, everyone that participated in Squid Games got arrested, which made it on the news, but was looked past after a few months, [name] made gravestones for Penelope and Astro.

Ofc the Batfam got the credit and got even more famous for uncovering this incident, which is also why they hadn’t ‘visited’ [name] and now are just getting to it.

Not the update you expected, but I hope you like it.

Any comments, advice and corrections are appreciated!!!

-ILoveeeMoney

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @elfollaburras3000 @czarinera @tiffyisme3760 @exactlynumberonekryptonite @gwyneveire @k-anaru @a-lurking-fae @nxdxsworld @ryuushou

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell anyone's name wrong and tag the wrong person.

[allfearstofallto]

Okay okay last one, I swear!! I just have so many ideas! But three more for the yandere historical au and I'm finished, pinky promise!!

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Master Duelist! Xiao who has never lost a fight. Always challenged, but never the one to initiate, he was one of the reasons your family has such high honor. Even though many lords of higher status have offered to buy him for a pretty penny, he stays loyal to your family. Specifically to you. His opponents who see you in the crowd during their duel, know to just give up, he fights harder when you're watching. Every favor, embroidered handkerchiefs, that you'd given him, hang like trophies in his room. But upon learning that you're to be wed soon, he stands and challenges your fiance to a duel for your hand, one that he knows he'll win.

Butler! Thoma who has been in your family for years. Taken in by your parents and raised to be your right hand, the two of you grew up to be close friends, rather than typical master and servant. Despite this, he still finds ways to scold you, while also telling you how much of a gracious lady you've grown into. Maybe your closeness with him is why you decide to tell him of a rendezvous you're planning to have with a commoner boy that you've grown to like. Only, suddenly your home is more guarded than usual and your parents seem even more strict with you than before, almost like they know something you never told them.

Former King! Zhongli who steps down from his post shortly after his son becomes of age. While he no longer has his title, he's still heavily respected and praised by all. He saw you at a ball and formally invited you to the royal palace. Your family excitedly rushes you into a carriage, thinking the invite is for meeting with the newly crowned King instead. Only, when you get there, Zhongli is truly the only one waiting for you. He sits you down next to him and compliments you almost incessantly, ending the conversation by asking you if you think he's too old to be considering a second marriage.

Forgive me if these are bad!! This is my first time writing for any of these characters and I wanted to try!!

[kissylec]

LOVE YOU GOODBYE — rafe cameron, 06

pairing rafe cameron x pogue!reader in which being a secret is hard, and even more when prince kook himself is the one hiding you. a bittersweet wheel of emotions comes to you when you decide to put an end to a situationship that is hurting you, not taking into account how difficult it would be to get away from the oldest of the cameron siblings. ch warning .ᐟ curse words, man behaviour, tiny angst

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

LOVE YOU GOODBYE. — 05 . 06 . 07

kissylec says another short chapter smh 🙄 I'll try to make the next ones longer i pinky promise

taglist 🏷️ @lil-sparklqueen @pillowprincess4him @ihydeja @drewstarkeyslover @angelicameron @stylestarkey @frankoceanluvr11 @thepopcultureaddict @luvrclub @wtfisastiles @faephoria @maybankslover @yktayy9669 @bucksbvck @bee-43 @drewrry @harryzcherry @bsenpai @dreamybabbyy @ggyuslovie @magicalflowerstranger @wintercrows @rafeysbabydoll @starsval @maddiebaddie1 @mrsdrewstarkeyy

© KISSYLEC. 2025 — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Sugar, Baby

Chapter Three: Unraveling

Bruce Wayne x Sugar Baby! Reader

| Part 1 | | Part 2 |

I pinky promise there will be smut in the next part🤞 I just felt like making this one a bit of a slow burn

Taglist: @shadowqueen1322 @secretsideofbree @lillyrob

It started with nights at the manor.

At first, it was just a casual thing—Bruce would send a car, and you’d spend an evening talking over expensive whiskey, letting the world outside the Wayne estate fade into irrelevance. You still worked at the bar, still went to class, but somehow, Bruce had become a fixture in your life.

And it wasn’t just the money.

Yes, he still tipped you ridiculous amounts when he showed up at the bar. Yes, the black card he’d given you sat in your wallet, burning a hole you had yet to fill. But more than that, he was there.

The texts started coming more frequently.

B: You still alive?

You: Barely. My professor is trying to kill me with this assignment.

B: Send me the prompt. I’ll have my team handle it.

You: Absolutely not.

B: I don’t like seeing you stressed.

You: And I don’t like billionaire academic fraud.

B: Fair point.

He called, too—not often, but enough that you found yourself waiting for the sound of his voice on the other end of the line.

The nights at the manor got longer.

At first, it was just drinks and conversation, but then there were the quiet dinners Alfred started preparing for two instead of one. The slow walks through the grand halls of the estate, the firelit nights spent sprawled on the couch in the library, his arm slung lazily over the backrest behind you.

And then, of course, there were the kisses.

God, the kisses.

They started slow, teasing, an extension of whatever sharp-witted conversation you’d been having before he inevitably leaned in. Bruce kissed with purpose, with intent, with the kind of control that made you dizzy.

But that’s all it was.

Kissing.

He never pushed, never let things go further than you could handle, and part of you wondered if he knew.

If he had already pieced together that you had never done this before.

Not this—not just the kisses, but the way he made you feel.

Because it wasn’t just physical.

Bruce knew you.

He listened when you ranted about your classes, when you muttered about your deadlines, when you offhandedly mentioned your favorite books or movies. He remembered, too—casually dropping facts about your life into conversation, surprising you with small gestures that proved he had been paying attention.

“Tell me something real,” you murmured one night, curled up next to him on the oversized couch in his study.

Bruce glanced down at you, brow raising slightly. “Something real?”

You nodded. “Something not in the tabloids.”

He was silent for a moment, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against your knee.

“I never sleep for more than three hours at a time,” he admitted finally. “It’s been that way since I was a kid.”

You frowned, shifting to get a better look at him. “Why?”

His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through his expression. “You know why.”

You did.

Gotham knew the story of Thomas and Martha Wayne—the billionaire philanthropists gunned down in an alley, the grieving son left behind.

“I dream about them,” Bruce continued, voice quieter now. “Not always in the way you’d think. Sometimes it’s just… glimpses. My mother’s perfume. My father’s laugh. I wake up before I can hold onto any of it.”

Your chest tightened.

You reached for his hand without thinking, threading your fingers through his. Bruce blinked, as if surprised, before his grip tightened around yours.

He didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, rubbing a slow, deliberate pattern over your knuckles. “I just—”

“I’m glad you told me,” you interrupted softly.

He exhaled, eyes flickering toward your lips.

That night, the kisses were softer.

Not urgent. Not desperate. Just there.

Something real.

—

It was a few weeks later when you finally asked.

You were sitting in Bruce’s bedroom—an indulgently large space that still somehow felt distinctly him. There was a fireplace crackling in the corner, the low golden light casting shadows across the room.

Bruce was on the bed beside you, leaning against the headboard, sleeves rolled up as he scrolled through something on his phone. You had a book open in your lap, though you weren’t really reading it.

Instead, you were watching him.

“Bruce.”

He glanced up at the sound of your voice. “Mm?”

You hesitated. “Are you… waiting for something?”

He set his phone down, eyes scanning your face. “What do you mean?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the book. “I mean, we’ve been… this for a while now.”

Bruce’s lips twitched. “This?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he admitted.

You exhaled. “So, are you waiting? For me?”

His expression shifted, something fond passing through his features.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Your stomach flipped. “Why?”

Bruce sat up, moving closer. One of his hands found your knee, fingers brushing against the fabric of your leggings.

“Because I know you,” he said, voice low. “I know you wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t real for you.”

You swallowed hard. “And?”

His thumb traced slow circles against your leg.

“And I want to take my time with you.”

You felt yourself flush, warmth spreading through your body at the implication.

Bruce smirked slightly, tilting your chin up with the crook of his finger.

“You deserve more than rushed decisions,” he murmured. “I don’t need more. Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”

You inhaled sharply. “I—”

His lips brushed against yours, soft and coaxing.

“Don’t overthink it,” he whispered against your mouth.

And for once, you didn’t.

—

It didn’t happen that night.

Or the next.

Or the one after that.

But somehow, the waiting didn’t feel like waiting.

Masterlist

[xhopelesslyromanticx]

A birkin bag for Y/n - Lando Norris x Horner! Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: sexual references, swearing, mentions of alcohol

summary: When Y/n‘s situationship gifts her a really expensive bag seemingly out of the blue it causes quite the talk in the paddock. Little does she know he‘s just trying to show everyone who she belongs to. (Inspired by the famous birkin bag scene in Gilmore Girls)

Lando was intrigued with you from day one. Literally from the get go. He remembers the first time he had bumped into you in the halls of his close friends home. He clearly remembers every second despite being hungover from the night before.

Your hands were jam packed with all kinds of crafting supplies that shattered on the ground, crayons spilling everywhere.

„Ah shit!“ the sleepy guy exclaimed as a small hand immediately slapped his shoulder. He looked at your face in shock. He was violently hungover from his late night celebraions with a certain three time world champion yet he had never seen such a beautiful thing.

„Shh!“ you whispered, him raising his brows questiongly „Penelope could hear you!“

Lando chuckled, as you started picking up all the crayons. He kneeled down grabbing some as well. He knew your face was somehow familiar. He couldn’t quite place it though. The freckles, the dimples and that hair.

„Babysitter?“ he asked mustering your face.

„Sort of.“ you nodded, shooting him an innocent yet friendly smile „Family friend.“

He hands you a blue crayon with a grin. You knew the grin probably made any girl weak in the knees and judging from the blonde woman you and little Penelope had watched stumble out of his room this morning while munching on your cereal, he knew as well.

„Well nice to meet you nanny.“

You cringe at the name before rolling your eyes „Nice to meet you to Lando.“

Lando had loved that. You hadn’t acted like you didnt know his name. You just didn’t care enough to pretend to ask. You smiled again before licking your lips and getting up. Hearing Penelope call your name. Y/n. What a name. He eatched you stumble away on that day, knowing he wanted to get to know you.

And he did. He learned very quickly,that you were in fact Horners daughter. Which was of course to his luck, because Christian loved him. So he showed up at family hosted events, made some apparences in the red bull motor home and before he knew it you spent the night at his.

Well it wasn‘t that easy. He had to do some convincing. But god Lando loved kissing you. He was addicted to it in fact. In every corner, whenever noone was watching his lips were on yours as he pressed you against the walls.

„Someone could see.“ you mumbled against his soft lips, slightly pressing your palms against his broad chest. Having to control youraelf from giving in.

„I don’t care.“ he chuckled his hands under your shirt rather quickly.

It was always like this. Sneaking around, yet most of the grid was aware off the little fling. But Lando had told you quite blank from day one; he didn’t do boyfriend and girlfriend. And having gotten out of a longer realitionship just months prior you were okay with that. You could do it, you thought. And it was fun for a minute. Exciting and new.

„No strings.“ you held out your little finger snd Lando rolled his eyes at the childish gesture. But he interwined his pinky with yours anyway after some hesitation. Laying on his hotelroom bed with your body next to his.

„No strings.“ he nodded. You smiled waiting for the next words before you raised your brows.

„You gotta say it.“ you exclaimed gesturing to your interwined hands.

„I don‘t want to.“ he groaned, his body pressing against yours as he was hovere above you.

„Okay.“ you nodded before turning around and crossing your arms „Then no sex.“

Lando chuckled pulling you into his body as he inhaled your scent „Fine.“

You smiled waiting to hear the words escape his lips as he pressed his lips against the crook of your neck „I pinky promise.“

Months passed like that. And it was fun for a moment. But reality eventually creeped back up. And as you were sat at brunch at your dads house back in England, having scrolled through endless pictures of Lando celebrating his podium in Silverstone the day prior. Including pictures of him with countless women. But you knew it was no fair. He could do whatever he wanted. Yet you somehow had gotten the sense that he maybe wasn’t sleeping around like that anymore. After all, you two saw eachother almost every week at least very two weeks. You just thought maybe it was heading somewhere, but clearly its wasn‘t.

It had been so easy. Life had been good. You had an internship at a sports paper back in Monaco. You were studying to be a journalist, meaning you weren’t necessairily location bound. And it allowed you to attend races. Which allowed you to see Lando. But not this race. You hsd promised Lando you‘d make it but cancelled last minute as you had to attend some stupid event in Monte Carlo. You had watched the race on the toilet, your phone in your hands the whole night. God you had been so proud once he had finished that crossing line. If only he knew how important he was to you. You think you might even have screamed a little when it was over. And of course you had immediately texted him. „Plan A babyyyy! so proud of you Lan, kisses and see you soon xx“

But there hadn‘t been any response. And seeing the pictures from the whole ordeal over the weekend you now understood why. While you had sat on the plan, still wearing your gown from the event he had been out and fooled around with lord knows who. You knew you had no right to be jealous or something. But you weren’t even jealous. You were just dissapointed, having expexted to be a little more important than that. But Lando was a player. He didn‘t do boyfriend/girlfriend.

You were so lost in your thoughts, not even having heard the front door open. Starkng at the perfectly arranged flowers your stepmom had on the wooden table. The whole house and every corner was so perfect, it made you think about how your dad really had a great woman by his side. She had made this place a home. Something it truly hadn’t been growing up there.

„Well good morning sweetheart!“ your fathers voice appeared behind you as your dad walked into the dining room where the brunch had been prepared.

Max and Kelly following behind him, having all drove out here to get some time off. The countryside the perfect place to do so. No people who‘d recognize you, not even in the little town nearby. And even if they did, they truly didn‘t care enough to bother you.

„Dad.“ you smiled getting up and hugging your father tightly, your arms wrapping stound his taller figure. Your dad quite suprised by the affectionate hug, as he held you close for some seconds; He immediately knew. From the second he saw you staring blankly at that wall just before to this desperate hug, something was wrong. He watched you greet everyone else with a somehow fake smile, including Max and Kelly who both hadn‘t seen you in some time as your job was keeping you really busy.

„What are you even doing back home?“ your dad later asked as everyone was eating.

„Well, I was suprised to to see her stumble in here this morning.“ Geri, your stepmom chuckled.

Max mustering you. He knew, he had seen the pictures. Well he had been there. Having told Lando if he was aware of the cameras on him as he was pushing his tounge down some girls throat. He even told some people to delete the photos. But people were drunk, plus Lando was famous. A deadly combination.

„What about Y/n, Lando?“

Max knew you two weren’t exactly offical. He had no idea what kind of realitionshipi it was. But he had seen you two. It was evident you both had feelings for eachother. So this was just stupid. It would hurt both of you. Especially you and Max thought of you like a little sister.

„Why should I care?“ Lando groaned sounding extremly cocky, making Max wanna puke. Lando scrunched his nose before he pushed past the dutch guy who just stood there baffled.

Now seeing your puffy eyes looking at everyone at the table. Max knew; you had seen the stupid pictures. You probably had flown out to England for Lando. And Lando had been an absolute idiot the past 24 hours.

„I wanted to suprise you.“ you whispered, lying to your dad. But your dad wasn’t stupid, he knew it probably had to do with a certain british boy who you seemingly had befriended ove the past few months. He had his concerns but you were a grown woman, he knew he shouldn’t get inbetween anything.So he just smiled before nodding „Well that’s nice. I‘m certainly surprised honey.“

The week passed quick. You spent some time with your siblings and Max and Kelly before saying your goodbyes again. Telling your dad you‘d see him in Hungary.

„Come to London please.“ You couldnt believe it. After three whole days of zero contact he had finally texted you. He didn‘t ask yet he clearly saw your instagram story showing you were back home. You wanted to text him, be mad and tell him how hurt you were. But you weren’t like this. Your weekend with your patents had made you realize you haf been raised better. Maybe you had lied to yourself. Maybe you couldn‘t do no strings attached. Maybe having standards was a good thing.

So you didn‘t respond. You told him a couple of days later; „sorry was busy, see you in hungary.“

It was the weekend before the Grand Prix you attended yet another absoluetly jam packed Gala event in Monaco. You were luckily not gonna be important next to all the stars and socialites there. So you put on some regular black dress, did your own hair and makeup before getting an uber there.

The evening was rather dull. But you‘d have to report on it for the paper next week so you had to stay for every second. You saw a couple if familiar faces, talked to some old family friends before admiring the beautiful hotel the thing was hosted at. The big chandeliers sparkling so brightly, you were bound to be mesmerized. It was then as you grabbed yet another glass of champagne when you turned around bumping into some guys chest.

„Oh. I‘m sorry!“ you exclaimed looking up at the familiar face. The blonde hair sitting ever so perfectly as the tailored suit sat on his broad shoulders. The tall guy shooting you a sly grin „You‘re fine my love dont worry.“

„Logan.“ you chuckled. Having seen the rookie a couple of times at least. But never really having spoken to him.

„Hello there.“ he waved awkwardly before induldging you in some small talk.

Logan was nice guy. Despite the internet making fun of him for his very american ways he was nice and polite. It started as nice chatters but somehow you two ended up at a corner at the empty bar, downing glass after glass of whatever alcoholic beverage the american ordered.

„So weird seeing you without Norris.“ he eventually bound up saying.

You scrunched your nose, a thing you always did but even more when you were drunk. If there was botox for that you might as well start young.

„Why is that weird?“ you giggle, your words coming out slower than usual as you kick your heels against the legs of the bar chair. Playing with the rim of your already empty champagne glass.

Logan looks down at you, seeing you nervously bounce your legs. He licks his lips, and if you weren‘t shitfaced you would have gotten the ick a long time ago. The guy was so obviously trying to flirt with you. Something you hated. Well except when Lando did it.

„Ah, I don‘t know I just thought he was your boyfriend?“

You burst out into laughter, causing some of the last people in there to look at you. Women being loud, something people clearly hated or were at least severly triggered by.

„What‘s so funny?“ Logan blushed looking around, kind of embarassed by the eyes on you. Lando would never be embarrassed. Yeah well Landos laugh was also way louder than yours.

„See…“ you catch your breath, before rolling your eyes and playfully punching his shoulder „Norris doesn’t do girlfriend boyfriend or boyfirend girfriend silly!“

Logan chuckled before his hand was placed on your upper thigh. It was like he had waited to hear that. It came so quick and at the most obvious time. The american guy leaned in towards you before whispering into your ear „You wanna head home?“

He smelled weird. No he actually smelled fine. He just didn’t smell like Lando. Lando smelled so perfect. Like your favorite smell ever.

Your heart ached for a second. This probably was good right? You had to do the whole multiple people thing. Lando was doing it. So you also had to.

„Why not?“

So you walked out the place with the blonde american. Not looking back once. Only what you didn‘t notice as you stumbled down the stairs with your heels in your hands was that, Arthur Leclerc who was Charles brother and Oscars best friend had waited for his girfriend outside when he spotted a very tipsy you get in a car with none other that Logan Sargeant.

The week passed rather quick and before you knew it you were sat on a plane towards Hungary. You were gonna arrive just in time for Qualifying. Heading straight from the airport to the paddock, having to change into a appropriate outfit at the airport toilet. Again. Low point.

It was a long taxi drive later that you made your way into the paddock, holding your recorder and noteclips. What you hadn’t known strutting, in there in your still perfectly white suit that could have used some ironing but no one’s perfect, that you actually had been the talk of the grid over the past two days.

Arthur Leclerc had a loose mouth. He had immediately texted Charles asking if Y/n Horner wasn’t involved with Lando Norris anymore. To which the older Leclerc responded that as far as he knew Lando and Y/n were somehow together all the time but not really exclusive. When Arthur dished the tea to him later the next day that he had seen you and Sargeant looking rather cozy with one another Charles immediately texted Carlos asking if there was trouble in heaven. The boys just loved gossip. And we all know who Carlos is best friends with.

On press day the ferrari driver asked his former teammate, right after getting of the panel „So Y/n’s really not as goody two shoes as we thought huh?“

Lando looked at him confused, he had just spent four days figuring what he had done to seemingly piss you off. No messages, the way you had stayed with your dad when you had promisef him to come to London. He missed you. He just couldn‘ admit that. No strings right? Plus he didn’t do boyfriend girlfriend.

„What do you mean? What about her?“

„Yeah well…“ Carlos chuckled awkwardly now spotting the very hot topic off his rumor talking to Oscar in the corner of the waiting room. Logan was showing Oscar something on his phone while the two youngest guys on the track waited for their turn to do interviews.

„Carlos, I don‘t have all day.“ Lando groaned, punching his friends shoulder „What about Y/n?“

Carlos contemplated for a second. He knew Lando was acting like he had no feelings for you but Carlos knew exactly that wasn‘t the case. He had after all been the one dragging the brit home after the silverstone afterparty. And the whole drive to the hotel the young Mclaren driver kept on talking about you and everything about you and everything about your looks and so on.

„Her eyes. Her hair, the way she scrunches her nose when shes confused.“ Lando slurred his head on Carlos lap as he was about to pass out „Y/n‘s just great. She- She is girlfriend material.“

„So Charles told me that Arthur told him. That last Saturday at some sort of Gala in Monaco, he spotted Y/n leaving with another driver…“

„What!“ Lando yelled immediately , causing everyone to look at him. Carlos hand covered his mouth, stopping him from screaming the place down. Shooting everyone an awkward smile as they continued their own thing with raised eyebrows.

„Shh!“ Carlos whispered as Lando looked at him in fury before removing the hand from his mouth.

„Don’t tell me to shush! Who the fuck did she leave with!“ he whisper yelled, and Carlos sighed. He really didn’t want any bad blood in between the grid to start because of him so he knew he couldn’t tell names:

„Well, Lando you two aren’t official so you dont really have the right to get mad at her.“ Carlos explained trying to sound reasonable. But Lando just raised his eyebrows holding up his hands clearly acting innocent as a lamb.

„Hold on! I‘m not mad at her! Im mad at whoever thinks its okay to take something that clearly belongs to me!“

Carlos chuckled. His friend sounded like a little kid in preschool who‘s toy was stolen. Guess that’s what love does to you „Lando first of all no one really knows if you two are offical or not…“

„I don‘t have to be offical with her, she‘s off limits for any other driver and they know it.“ he argues back and it actually makes so much sense in his head. Much more sense than it does to Carlos at least „If you don’t actually your car, I‘ll still never juste drive it.“

„But Y/n‘s not some bag Lando. You cant actually own her-„

„Thats it!“ Lando smiled and Carlos looked rather confused. He musters his seemingly insane friend who looked like he had just found the answer to lifes most profound question.

„What?“

„Im gonna get her a bag.“

You had just arrived at some food stand, grabbing a coffee and a bagle when a hand grabbed yours. You turned around looking up at the beautiful curly haired guy. Landos eyes looked at you as he had a huge grin on his face „Hey baby.“

„Lan.“ you stated, rather suprised by the bubbly greeting. Last time you had checked both of you were ignoring one another. But Lando didn‘t even give you any time, he put his hand on your back before guiding you towards the mclaren motorhome like he was on some sort of mission.

„What are you doing?“ you chuckled as he pulled you past security who grabbed your bagle and coffee as it was not allowed to bring food from outside. Rude. You looked Lando up and down as you followed him. He was already in race gear probably having to go on track any minute now.

The young guy didn’t say a word he just pulled you into his drivers room closing the door behind him quickly. Before he immediately smashes his lips against yours leaving you no choice but kiss him back. After a while you come to your senses as you push him off you “What‘s going on Lan?“

You missed this. But you weren’t naive, he was acting like you hadn‘t completely had zero contact over the last two weeks. Like he hadn’t ignored you for days after Silverstone. Lando pressed his lips together, his hands still on your waist. He looked like he was contemplating to say something but then shook his head.

„Baby.“ he whispered, his fingers digging into the material of your white blazer.

„Yes?“ you asked sounding rather hopeful. Maybe youw two were actually gonna talk for once.

Lando looked into your eyes before taking a deep breath „I got you something.“

He what? The brit now turned around and you looked at him dumbfounded. He walked over to the cabinet pulling out an orange paper bag. You furrowed your brows. Not understanding what on earth he was doing. He got you a present?

„Here.“ the brown haired handed you the big bag and you looked at him confused.

„It‘s not my birthday yet.“ you stated knowing your birthday was coming up soon. Maybe he had remembered wrong, wouldn’t be a suprise as he seemingly didn’t care where you had been the last two weeks.

„I know but just open it!“ he chuckled, sounding like an excited little boy. You can’t help but giggle nodding as you walk towards the table. You place the bag down pulling out an orange cotton bag. You look at Lando still lost before pulling out the inside. Holding a rathe big snd bright pink leather bag in your hand.

You scrunch your nose „A purse?“

„You dont like it?“ Lando looks panicked and you get even more confused. He sighs rubbing his face „I thought pink was your favorite color.“

„No it’s nice! Really nice!“ you admit looking at the bag „Im just confused why you got me a- a bag? I mean i know im a girl, and I love bags but why..“

„It‘s not just any bag.“ he chuckles, only now realizing you had no idea what you were holding in your hands. He forgot you actually grew up with only a father. This could be amusing.

„What is it then? A special bag?“

„Ah forget it.“ Lando shrugged it off, kissing your cheek . This maybe was actually good. If you didn’t know what the bag meant you‘d go parade it in front of everyone which was exactly what Lando wanted. This bag would surely keep anyone away „I hope you like it baby.“

„I love it Lan!“ you smiled, before tiptoeing and kissing his cheeks. In all honesty the bag was nice but you had still no idea why he‘d just gift you some purse. But you figured it was his way of aplogizing or somethingand you really had no time to discuss the matter at that moment „If you excuse me now I gotta go show everyone my new bag and you have to go race. Good luck!“

Lando couldnt believe it. His plan had sorta backfired. But in the weirdest most unexpected way. He was stunned as he watched you strutting away with your new bag in one hand as you grabbed your coffe on your way out. This could be fun.

Kelly was watching her boyfriend qualifying from the redbull garage as she noticed you walk up to her. The dark haired woman smiled talking off her headphones „Y/n!“

„Kells!“ you embraced her in a hug. You two catch up a little and you just wanna ask Kelly about Little P when her eyes fall onto the bright pink thing in your hand. Kelly raised her eyebrows staring at it“Wow does your internship suddenly pay that much?“

„What?“ you chuckled, noticing her eyes on your bag. You pull it up swinging it around a little before wiggling your eyebrows „Oh, this?“

You roll your eyes turning it around „It‘ a pretty nice bag right?“

Kelly looks at you a little stunned „Nice?“

„You dont like it?“ you ask mustering the older woman „Well you won’t believe this but Lando got me this, totally random!“

„Lando got you a birkin!“ Kelly now yelled covering her mouth in shock as everyone started to look at the two of you. It was then that your step mom appeared from the backroom, taking off her own headset. Looking at Kelly and than at you snd than the very pink bag in your hand.

„That’s what it‘s called?“ you scrunched your nose before chuckling„Its apparently a special purse.“

„Who got you this?“ Geri now asked looking utterly confused at the very beauty you were holding in your hands. She had seen her share of beautiful birkins but this was next level. You grew more confused by the second as people were suddenly hovered around you, well especially women.

„Well- Hello to you to.“ you say rolling your eyes „It‘s just a bag girls. Lando got me it and it was so weird, it was completly out of the blue!“

„Just a bag?“ Geri asked, looking at Kelly unbelievingly „Y/n thats a very nice purse!“

„Oh.“ you state, raising your eyebrows „Maybe I shouldn’t use it then?“

„Oh no, A birkin bag is meant to be used honey!“ Geri chuckled, and Kelly can’t help but laugh along still absolutely shocked„Max never got me a birkin bag.“

„Whatever.“ you now shrug not knowing how a bag could be such a big deal. The two women continue their jokes before you walk around and take off. You had work to do after all. You muster your bag one last time. A birkin bag. Whatever that was. You should probably google it later.

Talk of the bright pink birkin bag that had been gifter by the very Lando Norris spread like water. Soon everyone knew about the most expensive hermes bag being given to a certain young journalist who was parading it like she had zero idea what it was. Well, that was actually the truth. Even instagram had their fieldday seeing you enter Mclarens motorhomes with Lando and leaving it with a pink birkin.

But you were too busy to notice. You only noticed the stared from every woman passing you and the fact that even some of the drivers started whispering and pointing at you whenever you passed them.

When Carlos bumped into you and noticed the little thing in your hand he immediately wanted to slap Lando. He Couldn’t believe the young guy thad actually pulled through with the utter insane plan. He had watched the guy make five hundred calls the day prior. If he had known what kinda bag he was on the hunt for, he‘d probably tell him to forget it.

„Max!“ Carlos yelled running up to the dutch driver, Max turning around „Yes?

„Did you see what he did?“ Carlos asked completely out of breath. Max raised his eyebrows taking a sip of his water in his Red Bull bottle.

„Who did what?“ Max asked, looking at the spanish ferrari driver.

„Lando.“ he stated and Max ju shrugged his shoulders, completely oblivious to the gossip that had been circulating all day„He bought her a birkin bag!“

„Who?“

„Y/n!“

„That little sly fuck!“ Max cussed, not actually believing what he was hearing. Everyone knew what gifting a birkin to a woman means. It‘s like putting a lock on her. It could be only described as some sort of pre proposal, letting every guy know: she is in fact off limits and you better back off.

„He couldnt ask her out normally huh?“ Max laughed shaking his head, grinning at the thought of the young brit.

„No. It‘s Lando. Typical Lando.“

On race day you decided you had enough for once and for all from the stares shot your way every second you walked through the paddock. The bag was pretty yes, but people were surely acting like it was a god. You walked into the redbulm garage approaching Kelly who was stood there with Max and your dad.

„Guys!“ they all stared at you as you looked at them in frustration.

„What the hell is the deal with this stupid purse!“ you held up the thing once again and your dad looked at you suprised while Max chuckles. There‘s a moment of silence before your father crosses his arms, raising his eyebrows.

„It‘s hideous?“ Christian asked. Max and Kelly looking at both of you stunned.

„Dad!“ you punched him with the bag as he laughed like an evil witch. He always made fun of your clothes so this wasn’t personal.

„Y/n!“ Kelly yells before the panicked women reaches out to garv the bag out of you hands like it was a child in need. She wrapped her arms around it protectively looking at you in fury. Meanwhile you look at her like she’s the one that’s lost her mind and so does your dad.

„What the-„

„Okay Christian.“ Max took a deep breath, looking at Kelly who was looking at him in desperation. Silently begging him to put an end to her misery of watching you treat a birkin like that„You may wanna take a seat for this.“

„Bullocks.“ Christian chuckled raising his eyebrows as you looked at Max confused. What was everyone’s problem?

„Well, this bag.“ Max ponited at the thing in Kellys hand and you looked at him exceptingly „It’s a birkin bag. And Lando gave it to you? Right Y/n?“

You slowly nodded, your dad already confused on why Lando would even buy you a bag in the first place. You weren’t that serious, right?

„Well its a forty thousand dollar bag. At least.“ Kelly now stated.

You felt like your heart stopped beating „A what?“

„Why?“ your dad now looks at you putting two and two together „Why does Norris gift you a forty thousand dollar bag Y/n?“

„I- Uhm.“

„I don’t know?“ you lied, before going to grab the bag from Kelly’s hand. Your dad throwing daggers at you. Realizing his daughter actually isn’t as innocent as she seems. You grin awkwardly „If you excuse me now. I gotta go!“

You wahtched the race from the stands, figuring you‘d be safest there as you tried to grasp the sheer fact that Lando had actually bought you a bag that cost more than all your other bags combined. And god you didn’t even say thank you really. But you also truly didn’t understand why he‘d do something so insane. This was serious. You don‘t gift bags like this to your situationship. After a long day you finally headed back to the hotel. Texting Lando to come to your room to talk on your way there.

You were getting ready to out to dinner with your family when a knock appeared at your door. In nothing but yout bathrobe you went to open the door expecting it to be Lando only to be met with a certain american guy lean against your doorframe „Howdy.“

„Logan.“ your eyes were wide open as he looked you up and down with a sly grin.

„Greetings.“ god he was unbarebale when not drunk. You look at the taller guy an awkward grin plastered on your lips.

„What do you want?“ you asked and you knew it sounded quite rude. But you quite honestly didn’t care because Lando could show up any second and you didn’t exactly want him to find you here with Logan.

„I wanna talk.“ He speaks as he pushes past you. You watch him enter your room. Well he was persistent.

„Well, now really is a bad time.“ you stated gesturing to your soaking wet hair and bathrobe. He really had to leave.

„How so?“

„Well, to be quite frank.“ but you couldnt finish it because a second later the door opened behind you. You shut your eyes knowing exactly who that was and how this was gonna look for you. Lando walks in fully dressed for the night, spotting you stand there in your bathrobe, your back turned towards him and in the room none other than. What? Logan? Really?

„What the fuck is he doing here.“ Lando asked not even acknowledging Logans presence. Great. Could anything go your way. You sighed turning around and looking at him „Lan…“

„I‘m here to pick her up for dinner.“ Logan states crossing his arms. You turn back around. He was not serious. „What?“

„Excuse me?“ Lando hissed, clearly already getting worked up about the fact that the Williams driver had the audacity to show up here after he had clearly made sure the whole paddock knew you were his. The birkin had done his job. People had already texted him congratulations on the realitionship.

„Yes remember, we made the plans last week when I came to your place?“ Logan asks you, quite literally doing it on purpose. You knew he was doing it on purpose.

„So hold on!“ Lando grabbed your shoulde and you turned around to look at his pissed off expression „He‘s the other driver?“

„The other what?“ you exclaimed being quite lost. Logan just chuckling, he had heard that Lando was trying scare someone off, apparently it was him. It mad Logan chuckle, surely you wouldn’t be so easy right?

„Last week you left an event with another driver!“ Lando hissed, pointing at the blonde american whi stood there with a cocky smile “It was him?“

„Yes.“ Logan grinned and you knew if he wanted Lando to punch him he was almost there. The brit had a short temper for stuff like this.

„Wait!“ you now yelled turning your attention towards Lando only „How do you know that!“

„Arthur saw you.“ Lando hissed, looking at you with a digusted expression. He starts to pace up and down the room and you roll your eyes at the dramatics.

„Lando calm down!“

„He’sinsane.“ Logan chuckled, shaking his head „Thinking he can put dibs on girl with some freaking bag just because he‘s too stupid to ask her out.“

„Logan!“ you now sighed , pointing at the door „Leave!“

Logan looks at you unamused but seeing you were serious. He rolls his eyes before pushing past you and leaving your room. Slamming tbe door shut on his way out, causing you to flinch as you stare at Lando who‘s looking like some maniac.

„Jesus!“ you sighed.

„Did you have s*x with him?“ Lando asked, blurting it out without hesitation but scared of the answer. You looked at him completely lost on what gave him that idea. Arthur for sure wasn’t a reliable source. Noted.

„What if I did Lando? We agreed on no strings!“ you tried to reason with him. The whole bag thing and him acting all jealous. It made zero sense „Its not like you weren‘t the one who was partying with a million girls after Silverstone.“

„Because I was mad at you!“ Lando now yelled. He really hated to admit this. He hated talking. He‘d rather buy you a million birkins but he knew his words were now needed.

„For what?“

„For not being there. You knew how important it was for me!“

„Lando I had to work!“ you sighed, still lost on how this all made sense „Thats why you slept with other women? Because you missed me?“

„I didn‘t sleep with anyone!“ he now defensed himself. You take a step back raising your brows as you realize you had been foolish.

„But the pictures?“

„Yes I made out with some of them. Im not proud. But I went home with Carlos.“ he sighed, looking at your smaller frame „And I got you that bag hoping you‘d forgive me for that. Well I also got it to scare the competition off.“

„Why didnt you say anything?“

„The bag speaks for itself or so I thought.“ he shakes his head „Only I forgot you aren’t like every other girl.“

„Lan.“ you smiled weakly, approaching him and putting your hand against his face „It‘s a nice bag. But unfortunately you will have to take it back because baby, forty thousand dollars? Thats ridiculous!“

Lando chuckled knowing how insane he sounded. He looked down at you „It was fifty thousand actually. I was trying compete with the other driver. If had known it was Sargeant I‘d gotten you something cheaper trust me.“

You can’t help but laugh „You’re mean!“

„No but seriously? He’s american!“ Lando said his voice all high pitched.

„I know.“ you. giggle, shaking your head „I didn’t t sleep with him tough baby. So you can take the bag back and buy yourself a car.

„Oh thank god!“ Lando sighed in relief his whole body relaxing. God he could be dramatic.

„I thought I was gonna have to pull an exorcism to get that thought out of my head.“

„Well we kissed.“ you smirk „So theres your exorcism.“

Lando fake gags and you punch his shoulder. Before wrapping your arms around his neck. Tugging on his curls. You look into his beautiful eyes, and he smiles down at you.

„So this no strings thing.“ he mumbles, biting the inside of his cheek. You feel your heart flutter as he comes down and kisses your lips softly his hand on your chin. He smiles „Its really just silly isn‘t it?“

You giggle „It is silly baby.“

„Okay from now on its strings baby.“ he states his hands wrapping around you body.

„Oh-„ you look at him with a scrunched nose „You might wanna skip that and go do boyfriend girlfriend right away.“

„Why?“

„Mhm…“ you sighed „Pretty sure my dad knows we had s*x.“

„What?!“ his eyes are wide open „How?“

„The stupid-„ you start but he interrupts you with raised brows.

„Birkin Bag.“

[jo-com]

pls alex albon fic next🙏🤞parang awa mo na teh

──★ ｡🫧⋆｡˚ The Backup Plan

Alex Albon x Fem!Reader

୨ৎ Summary: You’ve had a long-standing pact with Alex: If you’re both still single by 30, you’ll marry each other...You’re engaged to someone else now… until Alex drunkenly posts the pact on Twitter. It blows up—and fans vote that you should dump your fiancé.

୨ৎ Genre: Slight angst?, a little smau and a happy ending or nah? read to find out ;)

୨ৎ Note: Send request y'all, also hope you like this! has some grammatical error and stuffs

ARCHIVES ⭑.ᐟ

They were sitting on the roof of his apartment, legs dangling over the edge, two beers between them and an entire city below. It was 2:08 AM, the kind of hour that made everything feel quieter, closer, truer.

You were both twenty-one. Young enough to believe in forever, dumb enough to talk about it like it was something you could schedule.

“I’m never gonna find someone,” Alex said, head tilted back to look at the stars. “They either want the driver or the version of me they think lives on yachts.”

You snorted. “Yeah, god forbid someone loves you for your sparkling sarcasm and sleep deprivation.”

He smiled, soft and sideways. The kind he only gave you. “You’re not exactly thriving in the romance department either.”

You leaned back on your elbows, the breeze catching your hair. “I’m holding out for a golden retriever in a human man’s body. Loyal, dumb, likes snacks.”

“That’s literally me,” he said, deadpan.

You turned to him, smirking. “You’re not dumb.”

He blinked. “That’s what you took from that?”

You were quiet for a moment, the laughter settling into something gentler.

And then you said it—half a joke, half a wish:

“Okay, if we’re both still single at thirty, we get married.”

Alex didn’t laugh. He didn’t even hesitate. He looked at you with that warm, steady certainty that always threw you off.

“Deal,” he said, holding out his pinky.

You looped yours with his.

“We’ll probably forget we even said this.”

But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t.

Neither of you ever did.

...

Years slipped through your fingers like sand—quiet, unnoticed, until they weren’t. Now, at twenty-eight, you and Alex were two almost-strangers orbiting around what used to be everything. Birthdays, wins, late-night calls—once sacred little rituals—were now reduced to muted texts and empty-hearted “miss you’s.”

The milestones still came. But they came alone.

The big 3-0 was creeping up now—no longer a distant joke or a silly pact sealed on a rooftop, but a deadline that loomed like a memory you hadn’t made peace with. It sat in the corners of your thoughts, like dust you kept forgetting to clean.

Only this time, something was different.

You were engaged.

To someone steady. Kind. Good. To someone who wasn’t him.

And for the first time since that night on the roof, the deal—the pinky promise you once held like a lifeline—felt like something you had quietly buried in the past. Not because you forgot.

But because remembering it hurt.

...

The proposal had been perfect.

A quiet dinner. Your favorite restaurant. Warm lights, soft music, a ring that sparkled in just the right way. He’d gotten down on one knee and asked, and you’d said yes with a smile that felt real.

It was real. But it wasn’t whole.

Because the first person you wanted to tell—the one person who would’ve rolled his eyes and said “finally, someone’s dumb enough to marry you”—wasn’t there. Not in your inbox. Not in your messages. Not even in your life the way he used to be.

You sent him a picture of the ring anyway.

No caption. Just that. He didn’t reply.

And maybe that should’ve been enough for you to let it go. To finally move forward with both feet planted where they should be.

...

username NOT ALEX ALBON SOFT LAUNCHING HIS HEARTBREAK AT 3AM 😭😭😭

username whoever that girl is… break up with your fiancé. it’s for the grid. for the sport. for the legacy 🏁💍🚩

username no bc if alex tweeted this about ME i would be at his door in a wedding dress IMMEDIATELY 👰‍♀️💅

username the way this man just said “i’m emotionally unavailable but loyal” in one tweet 🥲

username imagine being engaged and the ENTIRE F1 fandom is telling you to go back to alex albon. i would simply fold.

username this tweet has more chemistry than most paddock couples. i fear this ship is sailing with or without her 😭🚢

username alex albon said “what if i caused emotional damage AND chaos in 140 characters” and honestly? he succeeded ✨

username “they forget” — YOU KNOW SHE DIDN’T FORGET BRO 😭 this is pain. i’m feeling it in my chest.

...

Two months later—on a regular Tuesday, when the sky was gray and your phone was face-down—he tweeted it.

Your eyes widened instantly as you red between his tweet— Your breath caught without permission.

And that feeling—the one you'd spent months, maybe years, trying to bury—rose fast and vicious in your chest. That familiar tightness. That ache between your ribs. The one that only ever belonged to him.

Confusion hit first. Then came the anger.

What was he thinking? why now? why publicly?

And then came the other realization.

Why do i care so much?

Because everything was different now. You had a ring on your finger. A man who loved you. A wedding date marked in ink.

You were getting married.

Just not to the boy who once pinky-promised you forever at 2:08 a.m.

And that’s the problem.

...

You didn’t hear him come in.

You were still sitting on the couch, phone limp in your hand, the tweet burned into your retinas like some kind of confession you hadn’t meant to write—but somehow belonged to you anyway.

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped up. He was standing in the doorway, coat still on, holding a takeout bag and a look that made your stomach twist.

You swallowed. “Hey. You’re back early.”

He didn’t answer at first. Just walked in slowly, set the food on the counter, and stared at you in that quiet way he always did when he was thinking too hard and trying too hard not to show it.

“You’re trending,” he said.

Just like that.

You opened your mouth, but there was nothing ready to come out. Not an excuse. Not an explanation. Nothing that could make this better.

He sat across from you. No anger. No raised voice. Just… restraint.

“That tweet,” he said softly. “The one about the marriage pact.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

He let out a breath. It wasn’t a laugh. It wasn’t a scoff. It was disappointment, paper-thin and sharp.

“Do you love him?”

Your heart stuttered.

“No,” you said too quickly. “I mean—not like that. Not now. I don’t—”

“But you did.”

Silence.

He nodded, slow and defeated, like the answer had already been written in every pause, every time you’d flinched at Alex’s name, every time you smiled too softly at an old memory.

“I know I’m not him,” he added, barely above a whisper.

And the worst part was—you didn’t even know if that was meant to comfort you or remind you.

“I’m trying, Y/N,” he said. “I’ve been trying. But I feel like I’m holding a place someone else still owns.”

The room felt small. The air too still.

“I chose you,” you whispered. “I said yes.”

“But have you let him go?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it?

[hhrtfelt]

💐 — I’m just a girl…

awkward/lover boy travis x oblivious reader

♪ ⁺ ➺ new upload! ⌢ 　　⠀ 𝜗𝜚ㅤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ﹏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀°(ˊ ᵔ ˋ )°　　⠀𝄒!　　⠀

∿⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𓉸ྀི⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒⠀ 𓈒⠀⠀⠀⠀wc :: 619⠀ᥘ⠀ׄ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♩ ⠀⠀warnings :: fem reader intended, fluff　　୧

➺ ✿ ̣̣͙ a/n :: woah. i haven’t posted since the 2nd… HEY YALL!!! i’m gonna be going on a travis like rant so i’m gona post like 5 travis fanfics don’t be mad at me… he’s just been my favorite character for like weeks on end and i need to get this off my chest. I WONT ABANDON U GUYS AGAIN I PROMISE აㅤㅤㅤㅤ

⠀⠀rules ⠀⠀masterlist ⠀⠀part 2

you and travis had a well established friendship… relationship? who knows. friends since middle school, you guys would always tell each other everything, but it always felt like there was something he wouldn’t tell you or he would sometimes ignore you the whole day, sitting alone at lunch while u stood behind him and slightly tugged at his shirt sleeve to sit with you.

(he really just had feelings for you and was a total drama queen about it.)

travis was always a closed off person and often avoided human contact as much as possible. he could be a complex person sometimes but it just takes a while to get to know him to understand him better.

most people just think he’s weird or only know him by the title flex (which he absolutely hates) or just ‘the coaches son’, which is better than flex. he’s okay with not being one of the most popular people there. after all, he really had all he needed, someone he could lean on, decent grades, and a friend that could double as a tutor! (you are the ‘tutor’ in question) what else could he need?

ever since you to met back in 5th grade, he’s had feelings for you, but he knew you were a bit.. hard in the head? and it took a while for you to understand certain feelings, so he just didn’t even try to confess.

he did try to make some moves though, like holding your hand for a bit longer than normal, sharing rations of food, hugs lasting a big more longer and he tried his best to make them feel more passionate, to maybe be a hint that he feels something for you.

he was always scared you didn’t feel the same way, but he also knew it wasn’t totally impossible because you were really never involved in any guy drama or have ever had any crushes from 5th grade all the way to your sophomore year in high school. he always found it weird because he thought this was the women’s ‘peak’ of crushes but he never spoke on it.

he is very insecure and very careful on everything that he does that involves you. he tries to not make things awkward but it’s in his nature. any conversation could quickly become awkward, but also quickly revive with how fast topics flow when he’s around you. you to could talk about anything for hours and he would never get bored. he cannot hold eye contact to save his life though. he���s always looking down at something or looking away, and if he is able to look you in the eye it’s because he either is fidgeting with a pencil or just a random rubber band.

like stated, he’s tried multiple times to try to get the hints accorded that he has some sort of feelings.

“oh, hey, [reader]. you look pretty today…” he mumbled as he scratched the back of his neck, watching you sit down next to him with a smile on your face.

“oh, thank you travis! i tried some new things today.” you said, putting a loose strand of hair behind your ear as u got your stuff out of ur bag, waiting for class to start.

during this same class, he would make moves by moving his seat closer to your, interlocking his pinky with yours for a slight second before quickly moving his hand away and acting like nothing happened.

“what was that?” you whispered towards him as your hand moved to your desk.

“what are you talking about…? literally nothing happened?” he mumbled as he looked at you for a slight second before turning his head away, attempting to dismiss your worries.

Part 2 is uploaded!

[cheralith]

cw: gn!reader, no pronouns used, but use of word "wife"

you make a marriage pact with childhood best friend karasu at age nine where you pinky promise to each other that you won't let each other die alone, that by the time you're thirty-three and if both of you are single, you'll marry each other.

you ignorantly think that it's enough time for you and him to find someone to settle down with, but adulthood topsy-turvies you in ways you don't expect and after an abundance of up-and-down failed relationships, you find yourself single just a two weeks shy of your thirty-third birthday when your boyfriend tells you that "this isn't working out."

karasu has been by your side through it all; he's had his fill of partners too, but after his latest relationship, he figured to take a break for himself from dating.

it's not until you and him get drunk one night at a bar where the alcohol suddenly fizzes up a long-lost memory that you and him completely forgot about until you slur it out to him.

"you still wanna marry me?"

karasu blinks. then cocks his head. "come again?"

"the big ol' three-three is coming up," you mutter blearily. "remember what we said?"

it's only then that karasu gets shot back in time, to when you and him were hiding in a playground slide one summer afternoon, giggling and whispering secrets to one another, where you and him made that pinky promise he always kept in the back of his head.

he won't tell you, but he's thought about more often than he should. that little ghost of what-if always whispering to him.

"oh, yeah," he swallows thickly, gulping some beer down to try and smooth his senses. it backfires—creates some sort of film in his throat that makes it pass through a little harder than usual. "... um. depends. you still up for it?"

"we're not getting any younger," you sigh with a loose smile. "i'm down for it if you are."

karasu can't help but mirror your grin. stupidly so, just like whatever events are about to play out.

what unravels next is made up of a drunken proposal with an onion ring on your finger with karasu in his inebriated stupor loudly announcing he's engaged to the bar that whoops and shouts in celebration.

and karasu suddenly finds himself standing at an altar only several months later, in front of a small batch of shared friends and families all the familiar with a pressed suit at the ready. otoya fidgets with his tie at his side as best man, with yukimiya as the officient on his other arm.

out of all the things he didn't expect to come out of this year, being married to his longterm friend was certainly not one of them—and yet here he is. watching you as you delicately float down a tiny aisle with a cheap wedding dress you carelessly picked out for the sake of time and budgeting.

somehow, you make it look regal. the polyester spins to silk when it drapes on your skin and karasu finds himself itching to leap from the alter, lift that veil, and kiss you senseless.

he pauses. odd.

he finds that tightening feeling in his chest as he stares at you walking down in the aisle rather odd. he shakes it off, thinking it's just those pre-wedding jitters he's felt for the past couple of months.

yukimiya lets you unfold your vows to each other and say "i do", and it's only then that you share a kiss to seal the deal. it's brief, but it's warm and soft—a tender thing. it leaves a effervescent feeling on his lips that he's never felt before.

clumsily, you both pull back and share the same stupid smile that you gave each other at the bar, as if to say, "we really did it, huh?"

the night lasts longer than usual, as if time slowed down to help you savor this moment that you thought would just run over like a work meeting. but you find yourself having fun, talking and laughing with loved ones with karasu holding your hand throughout the entire night.

each time you look at him, you find him looking at you softly with a twinkle in his eyes, something that makes your stomach flip about. it doesn't help that he's always smiling so delicately—dare you say, with adoration, even.

and it's not the platonic kind that you've grown accustomed to.

you shake it off when the thought arises.

you can't be fooling yourself like that—this marriage was more of a business deal than anything. you know what he likes, who he likes. and you're far from the usual mold he finds himself going back to.

but it's hard to keep that affirmation grounded when it's time for the couple's dance, where karasu still has that sweet look in his eyes as he stares at you, hands settled on your hips to sway you to a sweet tune that you and him have loved since you were snotty-nosed brats.

you thin your lips to keep yourself from smiling. "do i have something on my face...?"

he hums, blinking slowly, affectionately. "yeah. ya got a little smear of beautiful right here, i think."

his thumb wipes away nothing on the high of your cheekbone, a smirk blending in with his grin. you snort with a slight simper.

"didn't know my husband could be so cheesy," you press on the foreign word as you roll your eyes.

"i like the sound of that," he murmurs. "'husband.'"

you falter and pause in your tracks a little. karasu is quick to pick you back up, pulling you a little closer to him.

"yer my wife now," karasu takes the word out for a test drive, the word melting like sugar on his tongue. sweet, palatable. it's fitting. "that okay with you?"

"you're asking me that on our wedding day?" you raise a playful brow.

karasu barks out a laugh, the rugged one you've heard and can play by ear at this point. a melody you suppose you're not tired of.

he caresses his thumb over your cheek, hand cupping your face. you realize he hasn't removed it yet from your face.

"no harm in askin'," he shrugs. "just wanna know what my wife thinks, that's all."

"you like that word, don't you?"

karasu drums his fingers on your hips. "feels good to say."

the lights sparkle around you, a gentle warmth flittering on your skin and creates almost this dazzling halo-effect around him. he brings your face closer to him and your breath hitches. he stops just a few inches shy of your face, his hand blocking everyone else from view to properly let you and him have some alone time for a few spare seconds.

you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, sharing the air.

"... can i kiss my wife again?" he whispers.

it's the way he says it that makes you wonder about your initial thoughts with all of this—this supposedly "platonic" bond between you and him that you've agreed to seal off.

you've always loved karasu; he's always held a part of your heart since your first bicker on the playground at age seven when you and him fought over your turn on the swings.

but you think something new has bloomed for him now, amidst your wedding day out of all things. an odd predicament to blossom such a newfound love, but regardless of how you got lost and tangled along your way, all the roads still led back to him.

you nod shyly.

karasu quirks his lips up in a spark of excitement, one that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing. he sighs breathlessly, just before he kisses you again—this time, just for you.

[cloudedangels]

Extended Leave ♡ (Part One) 18+

2,639 words

▪︎ Fem!Caleb x Fem!Reader ▪︎ AU ▪︎ 18+ No minors pls ▪︎ inspired by this drabble I wrote on my other acc

Fem!Caleb comes to stay with you for a few days. She's too comfortable and intense, but you like it don't you?

Tags/cws: fem!Caleb, fem!reader, AU, pilot!caleb, childhood friends to whatever this is, slow burn, domestic intimacy, soft butch x soft femme, mutual pining, unspoken feelings, quiet yearning, hurt/comfort, fluff?, tension and tenderness, soft dom!Caleb, sapphic romance, military leave, found family, period comfort, implied masturbation, repressed desire, emotional intimacy, subtle possessiveness, soft angst, slice of life, bed sharing, love languages (acts of service), fem!caleb barely hiding the level her obsession–for now >;)

Note: for my au purposes, reader and caleb are not related, but you were both raised by your grandmothers who were lifelong friends. Her being your jie jie was a running joke of sorts that stuck, more for her though...

She said she was only going to stay for a few days, but it's been two weeks with her in your apartment. She's made herself at home. Fixed your doorframe, the shelf in your bathroom, she does all your dishes, your laundry, cooks all your meals, like a butch housewife on steroids. She's barely unpacked except a few things here and there. Her toothbrush next to yours, her muscle teas folded neatly on the couch, boots and Jordan's by the door, DAA jacket on the coat rack. Caleb is everywhere.

It's not like you mind, you secretly hoped she would stay longer than she said. You like the way her intentionality warps the space.

Like when she folds your towels in thirds, not halves, because "that’s how they do it in base housing." Or how she rearranged the spice cabinet so you can reach what you use most, and made your rice cooker a permanent spot on the counter. You still feel a little flutter when she says your name from the kitchen, like it belongs to her mouth.

She texts you sometimes while you’re in the same room. Just things like:

your hair looks good today, pips. (*^_^*)

made some soup, aren't you hungry? ＼(・o・)／

your cycle's coming soon right? need jie jie to buy you anything? (´ω｀*)

She hasn’t brought up going home again.

You haven’t asked.

She watches you like she used to. Quietly, but with that unbearable fondness that used to make you feel like a doll on a shelf. Or one of her model planes. Caleb has always seen you too clearly, too tenderly, and with the kind of devotion that makes you want to laugh or flee the room. It's unnerving. It’s familiar. It's her.

You come out of your shower to find your favorite pajamas already laid out on your bed. Your phone buzzes again.

you left your conditioner open again mei mei

i closed it for you. don’t want it to dry up or spill...

(︶︹︺)

You shook your head. Shaking away the odd feeling. You haven't called her jie jie since you were like 15. It didn't fit.

You remember one of the first times you said it, or half-whined it, really. You were sprawled across her lap in your grandparents' tiny shared garden, red popsicle in one hand, your other clutching her shirt sleeve. She was trying to atone after you cried and cried because she left you alone to play with some boys who were older than you. Because she was "Playground King".

"No one else can have you, jie jie," you’d said. You were sticky and sunburned and serious. She patted your cheeks after you said that, before pinkie promising that you would get your wish. You were only 11 then.

You two were so touchy back then. Even when she left for the DAA. When did that change? Was it your fault? Were you pushing her away somehow with your awkward unsureness?

A sudden knock on your door frame pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Caleb, I'm not dressed!" You call.

There's a pause.

"I know, pips, that's why I knocked."

Then.

"You've been quiet today. Sit with me when you're done, okay?" She doesn't wait for you to answer before she's walking away.

When you're dressed, you find her lying on the couch, looking up at the ceiling and biting her pinky nail at the corner. She doesn't look at you.

"You wanna lay down with me and tell me what's wrong, pretty girl? Or am I gonna have to keep wonderin'?"

You hesitate in the hallway, tugging the sleeves of your shirt down like it’ll armor you against whatever strange, heavy feeling is leaking in through the walls lately.

When you pad over, she doesn’t move, just pats her chest once with the flat of her hand like a silent invitation.

"C’mere."

You move like memory, taking one look at her long body on your small couch before you lay down. You rest your head on her chest, snake arms around her waist. Trying not to think about it. A sigh leaves as you smell her old spice lavender deodorant and your body wash on her skin.

Her strong biceps wrap around you, one of her hands finding the back of your head. She rubs circles into the nape of your neck.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just don't feel right when you don't feel right," she whispers.

"You smell like you're covering your scent up with mine." You blurt.

"I like smelling like you." She says it so matter-of-fact like there's no use in denying it.

She doesn’t press you when you go quiet again, just adjusts herself underneath you so your head fits better against her collarbone. Her fingers still trace idle shapes at your nape, and you know it's an old habit. You used to love when she did that during your meltdowns. Her hand would never leave your back until you were breathing right.

Now it makes your throat feel thick… with something.

"I keep thinking about when we were little," you say, voice soft against the fabric of her shirt. “Like... when we played house and you made me be the dog every time.”

“You made yourself the dog,” she counters, tone lazy. “Said it was less pressure.”

You can feel her laugh vibrate through her ribs.

“You were so bossy,” you murmur.

“You were such a crybaby.”

You snort. “You liked it. Because then you could save the day. ”

“I did,” she admits. “Still do.”

That part settles weird in your stomach. It shouldn’t, but it does. There’s always something about the way she says things. She says things as if she knows you better than you know yourself. And maybe she does.

You shift against her, suddenly warm all over. Her arm tightens instinctively.

"Don't go," she says quickly, like your movement threatened to end this.

“I wasn’t.”

“Okay. Good.”

There’s a pause.

“I miss it, you know?” she adds after a while. “The old days. When you needed me more.”

“I still need you,” you admit before you can stop yourself. “I just… I don’t know how to need you the same way anymore.”

Her hand stills against your hair. Then: “I’ll take whatever way you can.”

Your breath hitches.

You close your eyes. You don’t say ‘me too’. You don’t say ‘please stay’. You don’t say ‘I’m scared of what happens if I want this more than I should’.

Instead, you listen to her heartbeat and the rain starting against the windows.

“You didn’t eat much today,” she says eventually, quietly. “Can I bring you something? I made miso and eggs.”

“I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

You nod against her chest. “Just tired.”

She hums. “Then rest.”

And you do. Not because she said so, but because you feel like you can.

☆☆☆☆

You wake up in your bed, a sharp pain in your abdomen, and groan. Not this… that would explain why you felt so mushy.

You press your palm into your belly and curl toward the wall. Everything feels slow, like you’re stuck underwater. You close your eyes and try to breathe through it, but another cramp rolls through, sharp and hot, and you groan again, quieter.

You don’t remember falling asleep here. You don’t remember Caleb leaving the couch.

But then, there’s a knock. Softer than before.

You don’t answer.

The door creaks open anyway. You don’t even have the energy to scold her.

“I heard you,” she says.

You open your eyes a crack to see her silhouette against the doorway. Her voice is low, careful. “Bad?”

You nod without speaking. She takes that as an invitation.

She crosses the room, kneels beside the bed, reaches to brush a piece of hair from your face. Her hand lingers on your cheek longer than it needs to.

"Can I help you?" she asks softly. “Lay with you?”

You hesitate. Only for a moment. Then nod again.

She moves with a kind of military precision. Gentle, but sure. Caleb always does things like she’s been practicing them. Maybe she has.

She lifts the blanket, lifts your hips oh-so-carefully to lay a towel you didn't notice she had under you. Then she slides in behind you. Her arms wrap around you immediately, warmth locking in. You let her. You don't know why, except that it feels like the safest place in the world. Like when you were younger.

Her hand drifts to your lower belly, warm palm over the ache. “Here?”

You hum.

She starts to rub slow, firm circles with the heel of her hand. She’s done this before. She always knew how to touch you, even when you didn’t know how to ask. The massage is gentle at first, then deeper. The tension in your muscles starts to uncoil, just slightly.

“You should’ve told me,” she murmurs. “I would’ve made ginger tea. Or held you sooner.”

“You already do too much,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

“You let me,” she says, and leans in to kiss your bare shoulder.

You tense.

Then you don't. You relax into her.

Her lips linger for a second too long. She doesn’t apologize.

Her voice is right at your ear now. “Let me stay, pips. For real this time.”

You can’t answer. You don’t know how to tell her no, and you’re not even sure you want to.

Caleb's hand strokes down your side now, steady, soothing. Her breath at your nape. You hear the quiet, obsessive love in her every movement. The kind that watched you grow. The kind that never moved on.

"You said no one else could have me," she says after a beat, the words barely above a whisper. “You remember that?”

You do.

You remember everything.

But you pretend to be asleep.

Even as she tucks you closer, whispering:

“I still belong to you, mei mei.”

You're not asleep, but if pretending means you don’t have to answer yet, you’ll pretend until your lungs give out.

Caleb doesn’t move.

She breathes against the back of your neck like she's syncing to your rhythm on purpose, like she wants to keep time inside your body. The way she used to when you'd cry too hard to speak and she'd count your inhales with her fingers on your back.

She thinks you’re asleep. Maybe she wants you to be.

"You're still so small," she murmurs, more to herself than you. Her hand doesn’t move from your belly. "You always looked like this. Fragile. But I know better. I know how strong you are."

A pause. Her voice lowers, darker, mixed with something:

"But when you let me take care of you, you go soft again. Just for me."

Your heart stutters.

You should move. Say something. Break the silence.

Instead, your fingers curl in the blanket.

Caleb shifts. Barely, but you feel her everywhere. Her nose skims your shoulder. Another kiss, featherlight this time, just beneath your ear.

"I don’t want anyone else to see you like this," she says. "You understand?"

There’s no threat or anger in her tone. Only quiet sincerity. That makes it worse. Better. You can't be sure.

She presses her hand more firmly against your abdomen, and you breathe out, a little shudder in your chest you can’t help.

She notices.

"Shh," she coos, hand returning to soft strokes. "I know. Hurts. I’ll make it better."

You don’t stop her.

You don’t quite want to stop anything. You start to question how much you'd let her get away with.

☆☆☆☆☆

It’s been three weeks.

You stopped asking when she was going home sometime last week, right around the time she stopped pretending the couch was hers.

There was no announcement. No big conversation. Just one night where she yawned big and loud, stretched her arms over her head and said, “Ugh, I’m too tall for that couch, I think I bruised my spine,” then flopped beside you like it had always been the plan. Her bicep was your pillow. She offered it like an apology.

The next night, she didn’t even make a show of it. She climbed into bed like it was muscle memory, like she belonged there.

And… well, you didn’t stop her.

Now, it’s routine. She makes breakfast. Teas for both of you. Hers black tea, yours ginger and sweetened with honey, sprinkles of cinnamon. Does your laundry without asking, folds your underwear too neatly. Shrugs when you say that you can't find certain pairs.

She hums when she brushes your hair. Touches your lower back when she passes behind you in the kitchen. She buys your favorite snacks without being told.

You’re used to her presence now, but it’s dangerous how easy it is.

Tonight, as you eat in silence, you finally ask: “When do you have to report back?”

Caleb blinks. Then freezes. Then sets her spoon down with too much care.

“...So. Funny story.”

You raise an eyebrow.

She clears her throat. “My official leave is… four months.”

You blink.

“What?”

“Yeah,” she rubs the back of her neck. “Technically I said I needed the time for, um, family medical leave. I might’ve heavily implied that someone was sick?”

You stare at her.

“Caleb. You lied to your commanding officer? That could get you discharged!!”

She winces. “I know! panicked! I didn’t know how to ask for time without making it a whole thing. I just… wanted to be around. You know, in case you needed me. I couldn't risk it being denied or not being long enough.”

You don’t know what to say.

She fidgets with the hem of her shorts. “I can find another place if it’s weird. I just… I didn’t want you to be alone.”

You don’t tell her to leave.

☆☆☆☆☆

That night, you wake up from a dream you’d never say out loud.

Caleb’s breath is soft and even next to you. Her arm’s thrown across your waist, and you can still feel the press of her thigh near yours. You’re too warm. Too… tense.

You slip out of bed as quietly as you can. Your heart is still thudding from the dream—something about her mouth, her hands, the way she said your name.

You lock the bathroom door. The water runs hot. You sit on the edge of the tub for a moment, trying to will it away. Then you give in.

It’s not fast, not frantic. Just quiet, soft gasps as you bite into the back of your hand. You think about her hands. Her voice. The way she looks at you when she thinks you’re not watching. You come quicker than expected, thighs trembling.

You breathe heavy through the after feeling, still flushed when you step out.

Towel in hand, you hear the buzz of your phone.

A message.

are you trying to make me insane with those sounds?

let me help next time. ♡ <<(≡・x・≡)>> ¿?

Your stomach drops.

Another ping.

(jk just teasing you dw) (^з^)-☆

pls don't stay up too late you'll feel sick in the morning >:/

You stay in the shower freaking out and putting back on your pajamas. Glaring at the panties you were wearing in your bed like it was their fault before tossing them into the laundry basket.

When you leave the bathroom and head back to the bedroom, you stand frozen in the doorway, heat rushing to your ears. She's still in bed. The blankets barely rumpled. Her eyes are closed.

You don’t know if she’s asleep.

You don’t know if she was really teasing.

And you don’t know if you want her to be. But you climb into bed, leaving enough space so the two of you don't touch. And you close your eyes tight. Fuck.

| 📖 pt 2 -> here

[luvyuuma]

HIII I SAW YOUR TOUCH STARVE POST AND TOUGHT IT WAS CUTEEEE. may you do EJ with “may we stay like this a little longer?”

for and inspiration, maybe the scenario could be that he’s super stressed from leader duties and just need a little love

AUTHOR'S NOTE: yes!! thank u for the ask. here you gooo

SYNOPSIS / in which euijoo is very closed off about his feelings. when he finally breaks down, you're there to catch him.

TW / none!

WC / 0.8k words

PAIRING / euijoo x gn!reader

touch-starved &team prompt list

EJ + "May we stay like this a little longer?"

One thing about Euijoo is that he’s a man of few words.

He’s always been that way.

That’s not to say that he won’t say anything about what he’s going through. Rather, he will explain it in short sentences, ending it with, “It’s okay though. I have it sorted.” Even when he really doesn’t.

When it comes to you, he listens to all your problems, gives you comfort and provides effective solutions to combat it. So you can imagine how you feel when you can’t do the same for him. You wait for the opportunity, try to dive deeper into Euijoo’s mind but he doesn’t budge.

Until one day.

You’re laying in your bed after a long day of work and you can hear the door opened. 

“Euijoo?” you call out.

There’s no answer. Just heavy footsteps.

You furrow your eyebrows as you sit up.

“Eui—“

He opens your bedroom there and just stands there. It seems as if the man himself became possessed because there was no thought going through there.

A few beats of silence go by.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

It takes him a while. 

Finally, he shakes his head.

Euijoo looks up at you, a small pout on his lips, “Hold me.”

Your heart softens at the sight as you open your arms to him. He comes to the bed, slips under the covers with you and for once, lets you hold him.

“What happened, baby?” you ask.

Euijoo’s hands are wrapped around your waist, face in your neck and breathing you in. Your scent brought him so much comfort. It was what he needed after what he went through today.

“I’m so stressed at work.”

You thought that was going to be it. He wouldn’t say anymore than this, he never does. 

“The company is at our necks, they’re putting so much pressure onto me and the boys. I honestly don’t know if I can do this anymore. I can’t do it. I really can’t.”

You run your fingers through his hair, letting him get it all out.

“It feels like no one is listening to me. I got into a fight today with K and I feel awful. I can’t seem to do anything right. I’m really not cut out for this—leading and all that,” Euijoo explains.

You’ve been speared in the heart.

You’ve never heard him talk like this before. 

Having to handle Euijoo like this, all broken in your arms is a blessing in disguise. As selfish as it sounds, you’ve been waiting for this moment. The moment where he’d crumble in your arms and tell you what was in his heart and let you console him, tell him that it was all going to be okay.

“I know it’s hard,” you begin, running your fingers through his hair. “There are going to be days where you’re going to have to get into arguments with your members, disagree and it’s gonna fucking suck. So I understand how you feel.”

“Mhm…”

“But you need to give yourself more grace. You are leading a group of nine, not eight. You’re also leading yourself—you need to be kinder to yourself, baby.”

He twitches in your arms, looks up at you with his eyes widened.

“Is that you?” he asks lightly. “I’ve never heard you speak like this.”

You push him back into you, “You never give me a chance.”

He pauses for a second.

“I don’t wanna burden you,” he replies, hugging you tighter. “You don’t deserve that.”

A warm rush blooms inside you.

You slide down on the bed so that you’re facing him instead. This is something you have to tell him, to his face.

“You’re never gonna burden me,” you declare. You cup his cheeks, swiping your thumb on his cheek. “Not now, not ever. Please promise me next time that you’ll tell me what’s on your mind.”

You put out your pinky for him. Euijoo slowly hooks his pinky onto yours, eyes never leaving yours.

Then, he pulls you flush against him.

“Now that I think of it, there’s more I have to tell you. May we stay like this a little longer?” he asks, blinking at you.

You smile, “Of course! I’m all ears.”

END.

[fuddsgf]

when it rains - juju watkins

summary 𞠬: when long-distance and growing silence wedge space between you and juju, what was once a passionate connection starts to fray under the weight of unspoken hurt. late-night calls turn to missed voicemails, and love becomes an echo you can no longer chase.

warnings:emotional neglect, angst, heartbreak, breakups, hints of emotional burnout/loneliness, unrequited feelings emotional themes throughout. lmk if i missed anything

tags: @patscorner @cherryswisherz @kmoneymartini @authentic-girl03 @bueckersverse @vamptizm

“i don’t know where you go, hard for you to share your home”

you sighed as you leaned your head back against the wall, phone pressed tight to your ear. ringing. then voicemail. again.

you hung up locking your screen, your exhausted reflection staring back at you. eyes half-lidded, hoodie too big, heart aching. you had a feeling that you knew where she was—some party in L.A., somewhere that screamed bright lights and blurred loyalty.

it wasn’t the first time juju disappeared on you like this. left you with more questions than comfort. promises drowned in the pulse of whatever club she let herself get lost in.

-

the texts became infrequent, rushed and distracted calls. you’d hear music in the background, sometimes laughter. she’d say something like, “sorry babe, i’m out with the team. you know how it is.”

but she never asked how you were. never listened when you tried talking about your day or how geno kicked paige out of practice because of her ankle.

the first few times, you brushed it off. juju was busy—so were you. the season was heating up, and uconn didn’t exactly hand out breathers. but eventually, your excuses for her felt paper-thin.

“Cause you don’t want it all, is what we have disposable?”

you’d stay up after practices, phone in hand, waiting for her to call like she promised. sometimes she did. most of the times, she didn’t.

the silence was starting to weigh down on you like any game loss.

one random night after a double practice that left your knees shaking and your chest burning, you sat in the locker room long after everyone had left.

aubrey sat down next to you on the bench, “rough day?” she asked grabbing her water bottle and handing it to you. eyes gentle as she scanned your red eyes.

you tried nodding but your chin wobbled instead. “i just… i have this feeling l-like im being forgotten in real-time you know?” you expressed looking at her tears starting to fall down your cheeks.

she didn’t push you to continue, didn’t ask who or what. she sat with you until the ache in your chest had softened.

the locker room was silent except for the low hum of the lights in the vending machine. rain tapped against the window like it knew what you were feeling. you watched the raindrops trial down the window blurring the outside lights like tears you were too tired to shed.

your phone buzzed.

juju💕: sorry babe. long night i’ll call you tomorrow, pinky promise.

you stared at it, thumb hovering over the notification. but you didn’t reply.

because tomorrow never really comes anymore. you placed the phone face-down on the bench, as if not seeing the words would conceal you from its existence. now it just felt like a delay. a stall. like juju was always out of reach—calling from noisy hallways, sending half-hearted messages between practices, classes and parties.

you used to be her world. now you’re just orbiting it. you grabbed your zip up hoodie, “i didn’t mean to cry,” you mumbled more to the empty room than to aubrey.

“you don’t have to mean it to need it,” she said barely above a whisper. it wasn’t deep or profound. but it settled in your bones like truth.

“let’s head back to the dorms before we get locked in here,” she said getting up and grabbing her duffel, you soon followed her lead grabbing your stuff.

“thank you for being here aubs you’re a great friend,” you said hugging her outside the gym heading towards your car before she could even get a word out.

-

“feels like im on my own, please don’t try to ignore that”

it was past midnight when your phone rang.

juju 💕 calling…

you stared at your screen for a beat debating if you should answer, but you did. “hey,” you said voice quieter than you intended.

static. laughter in the background. music. then her voice—a little slurred, all sugar and sunshine like if she wasn’t calling 4 days late.

“baaabe,” juju cooed “i miss you, im so sorry i’ve been like M.I.A. you know how crazy it gets after a win. team went out, we hit this rooftop bar— there was a DJ, you would’ve loved it!”

your silence must’ve stretched for a bit too long.

“baby?” she said again. you closed your eyes taking a deep breath “yea. i’m here.”

“good, i was worried you were mad.” she giggled. “don’t be mad, okay? i swear i’ll call you for real tomorrow morning. pinky promise.”

tomorrow. that damn word again.

you swallowed hard. “juju…when was the last time you asked how i was doing?”

she paused. the music dipped lower, or maybe she had stepped away from it. “what?”

“i mean it,” you said voice steadier now, sharper at the edges. “you talk about your games, your team, your wins… but you don’t ask about me anymore! you don’t call when you say you will. you don’t even notice when i’m not okay”

“don’t do this,” she sighed. “you know how my schedule is–”

“no, juju. you don’t know mine. you haven’t asked. not once.” there was a pause. a longer one. you imagined her frowning, that defensive tilt in her voice building even before she spoke.

“look, i’m trying, okay? i’m just- i’ve got a lot going on.”

“yea,” you said, quietly “so do i.” you could hear the next words forming in her throat, some half assed apology or excuse dressed up for love. but you don’t wait for them.

“i have to go,” you quickly said. “i’ve got an early practice.” 

“oh. okay. love you” she said softly.

but you didn’t say it back. you ended the call. sat there in the quiet with the buzzing silence of everything that was left unsaid.

-

“help me remember that i want more, something beautiful”

you sent it without thinking. a voice message. no script. just the raw truth.

“hey. i don’t think this is working out anymore. i kept waiting for it to feel like it used to– like i was still important to you. but it’s just not there anymore. and i can’t keep shrinking myself to fit into the margins of your life. i deserve someone who shows up. so, this is me letting go.”

delivered.

read.

no reply.

-

the crowd was electric. the cameras are everywhere. this is the stage. the rivalry. but for juju, it’s personal now.

juju spots you in warmups. headphones in. eyes sharp. you don’t even glance her way.

you’re walking off the court when aubrey jogs up beside you, bumping her shoulder into yours playfully, handing you a towel.

you laugh, not forced. not hollow. it’s the kind of laugh that used to belong to her. but it hasn’t in a long time.

juju watches from across the floor. she watches the way you light up when aubrey leans in to say something only you can hear. the way your eyes linger on her a little too long. the way you don’t flinch when aubrey’s hand brushes against your lower back, steadying you as the crowd roars. and suddenly it hits her.

she lost you.

not because of one mistake, but a hundred small ones. missed calls. half-hearted “tomorrows.” apologies that never came.

and aubrey? she was always there. just out of focus, until now.

maybe uconn won. maybe they didn’t. but either way, the game wasn’t what stuck with juju.

it was the image of you in the tunnel. leaning against a wall, smiling as aubrey talks with her hands, animated and flushed from the win. you’re listening, really listening, with a soft look in your eyes.

the one juju used to know.

and when aubrey brushes your knuckles with hers, and you don’t pull away juju finally understands.

juju stood there, jersey soaked, hands clenched at her sides, watching the two of you disappear down the hallway.

she didn’t call your name.

she knew it wouldn’t change anything.

because this time, tomorrow came.

but it didn’t have her in it.