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aleksatia · 4 months ago

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10 Ways You Ruin His Day (and 10 Ways You Ruin His Self-Control)

I originally made this list as character notes for future stories — I love digging deep into their dynamics and really breaking them down. But honestly? I couldn’t not share. Would love to hear your thoughts too: what do you think drives them absolutely mad, and what turns them into helpless fluff puddles? 🖤

🍎 Top 10 Things That Make Caleb Absolutely, Irrevocably Mad

1 He doesn’t know where you are Even when it makes sense. Even when you’re safe. Even when he’s on the far side of a tunnel with no signal and too much time to think. The silence eats at him, turns every breath into a countdown. By the time he’s back, no one on the base dares talk to him until you’re in his line of sight again.

2 You come home with a bouquet of flowers from another man It’s not jealousy, really. It’s… fury dressed in olive green. You’re standing there, smiling, saying some poor man gave you flowers because you saved his life. Great. Fantastic. Caleb’s thrilled that his girlfriend is both competent and accidentally irresistible. But now he has to pretend this isn’t bothering him while mentally comparing the man's face to strategic punching surfaces.

3 You climb on unstable furniture to reach something You know, nothing fancy—just a stack of books on top of a chair that’s on top of a bench. And you? Balancing like a gremlin in fuzzy socks. He walks in and suddenly the war flashbacks begin. You think it’s funny. He thinks it’s a workplace hazard, and you are the HR violation.

4 You rearrange his model planes He adores you. Worships the ground you walk on. Would throw himself in front of an oncoming dropship for you. But if you dust his shelf and dare to reorder his starfighters and aircrafts by vibes instead of model number? He's already rewriting his will. In blood.

5 You do something reckless and then smile about it You say “relax, I had a plan.” He hears: “I almost died, and I’d do it again, because I’m cute and unstoppable.” That smile? That grin you give when you know exactly what you did and you’re proud of it? That’s why he needs stress meds. And maybe a punching bag with your face on it. (Lovingly.)

6 You casually mention the girl he used to date You say it with a smirk, like it’s just some harmless teenage memory. But he doesn’t see her—he sees you. You, standing in the doorway that day. You, catching him with her, both of them half-undressed. And you looking at him like something cracked between you. Back then, you were off-limits. You were the girl he wasn’t allowed to want. So he wanted someone else. Easier. Safer. And now, years later, you bring it up like it’s nothing—while he’s still trying not to remember how badly he wished it had been you.

7 You weren’t his first kiss—but worse, he wasn’t yours It never comes up. Not out loud. But he remembers. Vividly. The hallway. The way your face lit up. The boy leaning in. You smiling. And Caleb—watching from across the room, fists clenched, jaw tight, playing the role of older brother when his whole body screamed mine. You never talk about it. But he never forgot. Never will. Because that moment should’ve been his—and someone else took it first.

8 You walk away during a fight, or shut down emotionally You call it “space.” He calls it “psychological warfare.” You shut down. He short-circuits. Nothing drives him more insane than trying to fix something while you’re actively ghosting him across the living room. He’d rather you screamed. Threw something. Anything. But this quiet? This distance? That’s the one thing he doesn’t know how to fight.

9 You cry—especially if it’s because of him And then he’s done. Game over. His spine straightens like he’s under military command and his entire soul just went through the paper shredder. You cry, and suddenly he’s the villain. You say “it’s not your fault,” but that doesn’t matter. He’s already rewriting the past and taking full responsibility. And yes, he’ll suffer in complete silence. Like a man.

10 You secretly try to uncover what he’s hiding from you You call it curiosity. He calls it a breach of protocol punishable by full emotional lockdown. You think you’re clever. He thinks you just walked into classified territory barefoot, blindfolded, and with a target on your back. You were never supposed to see that side of his world. And now that you have? He doesn’t know whether to yell, hold you, or lock you in a room with military-grade firewalls and a blanket.

🍎 Top 10 Things That Turn Caleb Into a Complete Fluff-Mess

You wearing his dog tags / uniform shirt / flight jacket Instant puddle. No chance. He sees you in his gear and his brain just... shuts off. All he can think is mine mine mine, and he gets this dumb, soft little smirk like he’s trying so hard not to combust.

You falling asleep on him—especially mid-conversation You’re curled into his side, mumbling something about dinner plans, and then: silence. He looks down, sees you asleep on his chest, and that’s it. Whole day ruined. Cancel all missions. He’s not moving.

You bringing him coffee exactly the way he likes it—without asking That quiet, thoughtful act? Hits him right in the soldier-shaped heart. He doesn’t even know how to process being taken care of, so he stares at the cup like it just proposed to him.

You absentmindedly touching him—fiddling with his fingers, tracing scars, playing with his hair He pretends he doesn’t care. He does. He cares so much he forgets how to breathe. Just turns into a warm, red-eared statue trying not to whimper.

You whispering “I trust you” or “I feel safe with you” in a soft moment Core memory unlocked. He stores that one like sacred intel. Will literally whisper it back to himself at 3 AM when he’s lying awake, missing you. It breaks him in the best way.

You clinging to him in your sleep / pulling him closer without waking up Caleb.exe has stopped functioning. He will lie perfectly still for HOURS if it means not disturbing that moment. Bonus points if you mumble his name while doing it.

You defending him when someone questions his methods or past He’s used to being the shield—not having someone stand in front of him. The second you raise your voice on his behalf? He falls in love with you all over again. Might even cry. Secretly.

You gently helping him out of his gear after a long day Soft hands on his buckles. A kiss to his shoulder. A low “You’re home now.” That’s how you make a Colonel melt. His fingers twitch like he wants to worship the ground you walk on.

You surprising him with something dumb and heartfelt, like a handmade gift or bad sketch of him He acts gruff—says “the hell is this, Pips?”—but then puts it in his locker or keeps it in his chest pocket for missions like it’s sacred treasure. Because it is.

You calling him “baby” / “handsome” / “sweetheart” when he least expects it He acts like it’s annoying. It is not annoying. It turns him into actual butter. If you do it with a teasing smile? He short-circuits. Might drop something. Might combust. Definitely blushes.

🩺 Top 10 Things That Make Zayne’s Calm Snap Like a Microsurgical Thread

You ignore his instructions when you're sick You had a fever of 102°F. He left explicit care instructions—bed rest, fluids, minimal movement. You, sweating and glassy-eyed, decided this was the perfect time to rearrange the furniture. When he came home and found you dragging a bookshelf across the room “because the light felt wrong,” he genuinely considered sedating you. Not as punishment. As damage control. For both of you.

You order greasy fast food instead of going somewhere “nutritionally viable” He offered to cook. You said no. Twenty minutes later, you’re eating fries from a paper bag while half of it spills on his clean table. You grin. He stares. Not angry at the food. Angry because you rejected his precision, then settled for processed chaos.

You leave wet towels on the floor after every shower He’s not sure when it started. Day three? Day five? But every time he walks into the bathroom and steps into cold, soggy cotton, something in him fractures. You claim you “forget.” He suspects a psychological experiment.

You casually mention spending time with male friends You think it’s harmless. Lunch with Caleb. Training advice from Xavier. You light up when you talk about them—and that’s the problem. Zayne doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t raise a brow. But the sudden over-fixation on his email inbox says everything.

You receive a speeding ticket. Forty miles over the limit. You wave it off like it’s a funny little anecdote. He sits in absolute silence, calculating the stopping distance of your car vs. standard reaction time at that speed. You think he’s judging. He’s actually trying not to scream.

You poke his ass. Specifically, between the cheeks. You call it “affection.” He calls it “emotional terrorism.” He flinches like he’s been electrocuted, whips around with murder in his eyes—and you’re giggling like a gremlin. Later, you regret nothing, but your thighs may beg to differ.

When you diagnose him with internet psychology You’ve read one book on attachment styles and watched three reels about emotional unavailability. Now you’ve decided he has "clinical avoidant tendencies with a hint of fear-based control fixation." He stares at you, deadpan, like he's about to perform your autopsy.

You keep spoiled food in the fridge and expired meds in the cabinet You say “it doesn’t smell that bad” or “maybe it still works.” His eye twitches. His gloves are already on. He’s not even mad at you—he’s mad at entropy. You’ve become its agent.

You watch reality shows. About infidelity. Willingly. You claim it’s “just background noise.” But he walks in and hears someone scream “that’s not even your baby, Kyle!” and your eyes are glued to the screen. His soul briefly leaves his body.

You washed his white lab coat. With your pink unicorn pajamas. It’s not just the color. It’s the betrayal. The symbol of his clinical neutrality now smells like bubblegum and looks like cotton candy. You say it’s cute. He looks personally violated by the washing machine.

🩺 Top 10 Things That Make Zayne Soft Against His Will

You bring him lunch at the hospital He never asks. You just appear—arms full of neatly packed containers, face lit up like this isn’t the third double shift he’s worked this week. He complains about the timing. The smell. The disruption. And then eats every bite with frightening focus. You leave. He stares at the empty container like it’s proof someone still believes he’s human.

You quote him back to himself like a philosopher You remember something he said weeks ago—some throwaway line about time or structure or entropy—and you drop it casually in conversation, like it’s wisdom from an ancient text. He doesn’t know how to react. You turned his logic into poetry, and he’ll never recover from that.

You wear the little seal keychain he made He didn’t think you’d keep it. Let alone turn it into your everyday keychain. But there it is—always with you, worn smooth from touch. You twirl it absentmindedly while talking to him, never noticing the way his gaze lingers. Never realizing how something so small can hit him so hard.

You put a photo of the two of you on his desk It appears one day. No fanfare. Just… there. A moment frozen in light, sitting quietly beside his surgical reports and diagnostic schematics. At first, he moves it to the edge. Then back to center. Now it lives next to his pen. He doesn’t talk about it. But it’s the only object on that desk he wipes clean with his bare hand.

His work shirt smells like you You borrowed it that morning, wore it while dancing around the apartment with wet hair and no real purpose. Hours later, when he pulls it on between rounds, the scent hits him like a loaded memory. He short-circuits mid-button. Everything feels warmer than it should.

You leave your phone with him while you shower No password. No hesitation. You toss it into his lap with a breezy “can you clear out whatever’s making it lag?” and vanish behind steam. He sits there, phone in hand, suddenly trusted with everything. He opens nothing. But the fact that you’d let him? That’s the part that shakes him.

You ask for his opinion on minor discomforts A papercut. A weird freckle. A suspicious sneeze. You hold out your hand, utterly serious, asking what he thinks. It’s laughable. Ridiculous. And it absolutely wrecks him. You could ask a dozen others—but you ask him. Like he’s the one who makes things better.

You’re on top He likes control. Precision. Strategy. But when you climb into his lap, all instinct and fire, hands braced on his chest and lips already parted—his brain stops cooperating. There’s something about you taking the lead that makes him unravel. Quietly. Violently. Completely.

You argue with him about complex theories—and mean it You don’t just nod. You push back. You challenge. You quote sources he hasn’t thought about in years. You spark. You flare. And he watches, fascinated, lips twitching with something dangerously close to pride. No one does this. No one dares. But you? You never flinch.

You whisper “I love you” in your sleep It’s not loud. It’s not even clear. Just a faint breath in the dark, like a dream half-remembered. But he hears it. Every time. And though he never says a word in return—not while you're sleeping—his fingers tighten around your waist like he's anchoring himself to the only thing that matters.

🎨 Top 10 Things That Make Rafayel Absolutely, Irrevocably Annoyed at You

You told him his painting was “nice” You stood in front of a piece that cost him three sleepless nights, a minor existential crisis, and two broken brushes—and said “Nice.” Just like that. No gasp, no poetry, no tears. He aged five years on the spot. Somewhere in the distance, a violin cried for him.

You dragged him to a cat exhibit You thought it would be cute. Enrichment. A bonding experience. Instead, he spent the entire time perched on edge, eyes darting like prey. You said “they’re just kittens.” He said nothing. He was too busy making sure none of them came closer than ten feet.

You cleaned his studio You thought you were being helpful. But you moved The Pile. The sacred, unholy, perfectly calibrated mess. Now he can’t find his favorite brush, and also he’s deeply offended by how cheerful you looked doing it.

You didn’t reply to his messages for over an hour He sent three texts, one meme, and a “thinking of you 💭” voice note. You replied 67 minutes later with “sry was showering.” By then, he’d already decided you were breaking up with him, joining a cult, or possibly dead. He had a whole monologue planned. And now you’ve ruined it.

You cut your hair He loved your long hair. Adored it. Worshipped it. You showed up with a sharp little bob and said “it’s just hair.” It is not just hair. It is the collapse of a visual era. He’s still adjusting. And by adjusting, he means mourning with wine.

You made fun of his driving You muttered “technically, you were meant to let the tram go first” He muttered “technically, silence is golden.” His driving is instinct. Vibe. Energy. If you didn’t want drama, you shouldn’t have sat in the passenger seat of a man who parallel parks like he’s in a ballet.

You woke him up too early He went to bed at 4 a.m. because inspiration struck. You woke him at 7:12 like it was nothing, and said “you have that interview, remember?” He does remember. He also remembers specifically telling you that if he ever falls asleep before sunrise, you are to let him die peacefully, cancel all earthly obligations, and throw his alarm clock into the ocean where it belongs.

You hid your phone screen when a message came in You were probably teasing. Just being playful. But now he’s spiraling. Who was it? Why the secrecy? What do you have to hide? Congratulations—you’ve just activated his inner opera villain.

You got jealous Which is absurd. He’s the one who invented possessive affection. But you being jealous? That makes him unreasonably indignant. What do you mean you “didn’t like the way that gallery girl looked at him”? Of course she looked. But he didn’t see her. He saw you.

You burned the bacon You say “it’s fine.” He says it’s charcoal. The entire kitchen smells like culinary war crimes. And now he’ll have to burn incense and replant three garden beds to recover emotionally. Who even let you near the stove? Who hurt you? Was it… the bacon?

🎨 Top 10 Ways You Accidentally Turned Rafayel Into a Purring, Love-Drunk Work of Art

You massage his head He’s mid-rant. Arms crossed. Absolutely furious about the lighting in that gallery. And then your fingers slip into his hair—and just like that, the war is over. His entire body melts like he’s been tranquilized. He’ll deny it later, of course. But the way he leans into your hand? Case closed.

You claim him in public It’s an art gala. He’s dressed to ruin people. And then you slip your arm through his, fingers just tight enough to say mine. You smile like a goddess. He pretends he’s unaffected. Inside, he’s writing vows in ten languages and considering printing matching business cards.

You actually listen to his advice He knows he can be dramatic. Unfiltered. Emotionally volatile. But when you sit there, really listening, nodding like his words matter—you destroy him. Suddenly he’s not the chaos. He’s the compass. And that? That’s love.

You share every detail of your day over dinner You talk about everything—the lady at the store, the funny email, the awful latte. You give him your day like a story, like he’s the only one you wanted to tell. He leans in, listens too closely, files away each emotion like a collector of rare art.

You’re always down for his wildest ideas It’s 3 a.m. He wants to hike 2.5 miles along the beach, take a boat to a tiny island, and watch the sunrise with wine. You say “give me five minutes.” And just like that, you become the only person worthy of his wildest, most beautiful chaos.

You let him photograph you Nothing compares. Not awards. Not praise. Nothing rivals the moment you look into his lens—bare, unfiltered, unashamed. Especially when you’re nude, glowing, and laughing like the world doesn’t exist. That’s when he falls in love with you all over again. And again. And again.

You let him choose your dress You come out in the one he picked. Elegant. Perfect. You spin for him. And the way he watches you? Like he made you. Like you’re the gallery and he’s the only one with the key. It’s not fashion. It’s trust. And he adores you for it.

You sing when you don’t know he’s home Wearing socks and earbuds, dancing with a broom, serenading your way through burnt pancakes. You’re off-key. Glorious. Real. And he stands in the doorway, silent, just watching. Because in that moment—you’re not posing. And he’s never loved you more.

You take care of him when he’s sick He has a fever of 99°F and insists he’s fading. You bring tea, stroke his hair, whisper that he’s “very brave.” You don’t mock him. You take his dramatics seriously. He will never forget it. He may also write you into his will.

You join him in the bathtub without asking He’s already halfway submerged, music playing, steam curling in the air—and then you slip in behind him, no warning. You nudge your legs around his hips, hand him your shampoo, and let him wash your hair while you giggle. He tries to act unimpressed. But when he starts kissing your toes? Yeah. You win.

✨ Top 10 Behavioral Anomalies That Triggered Xavier’s Internal Alert System

You break an agreement—even if it's “just a small one” It’s not about control. It’s about structure. You promised. And when you bend the rules—just slightly—he doesn’t react outwardly. No visible shift, no sharp breath. But something behind his eyes goes cold. Because for him, even small deviations mean recalculating everything. And that means risk. To you.

You create drama “just to get a reaction” You push. You poke. You escalate. And he gives you… nothing. No outburst, no flinch. Just that flat, unreadable stare while he mentally exits the room. He doesn’t get angry—he just shuts off the part of himself that wants to stay.

You refuse his protection—on principle You call it independence. He calls it a strategic vulnerability wrapped in pride. He won’t argue. He’ll just be one step farther back the next time, quietly cataloging how to stop caring just enough that it won’t kill him if something happens.

You call him cold—especially when he’s holding himself together for you You see stillness. He feels restraint. You accuse. He remembers what it takes to not become the darker version of himself. If only you knew how much energy it took to stay composed. If only you knew it was for you.

You’re late Five minutes. Ten. No message. No explanation. And his pulse ticks upward—not with impatience, but with pure, trained alertness. He starts looking for signs. Traffic reports. Emergency alerts. By the time you arrive, he’s smiling. But it’s the tight kind. The kind that says never again.

You skip training You’re tired. You had a long day. You say you’ll make it up later. He doesn’t argue. He just recalculates survival probabilities and mentally adds you to the list of people who might die because they were unprepared. And he will blame himself for letting you get soft.

You pull away from his touch when you're angry It’s not the rejection. It’s the meaning behind it. He reaches out—small, careful, calculated—and you shut the door in his face with a single backward step. He doesn’t try again. He doesn’t ask why. But the space you leave behind? It echoes.

You use a photo of Lumiere as a bookmark You think it’s cute. Maybe even sweet. He sees it—and freezes. He’s not jealous. Not exactly. But the idea that you might admire that version more—the legend, the mask, the sharpness—it unsettles something deep. Something he can’t name.

You secretly believe you’re not good enough for him You never say it out loud. But he sees it—in your deflections, your nervous jokes, the way you doubt his love like it’s a glitch. It doesn’t anger him in the usual sense. It just…hurts. Because you’re the only one who never had to earn it.

You throw yourself in front of him during a mission It’s instinct, you say. Split-second decision. You didn’t even think. And that’s the problem. He does. Always. Every variable, every movement, every risk is accounted for—except you breaking formation to protect him. You think it’s brave. He sees it as catastrophic miscalculation. Not because you acted without logic. But because you decided his life was worth more than yours. And that? That’s the one conclusion he refuses to accept.

✨Top 10 Things That Quietly Break Xavier’s Walls and Leave Him Unreasonably Soft About You

When you start reading the same book he’s readingYou don’t announce it. You just show up with the same title, a few chapters behind, and start casually asking questions. He plays it off. But inside? He’s spiraling. Because this—this—is how you speak his language. Silently. Precisely. Together.

When you knock on his door like you’re trying to break it downIt’s loud. Impatient. Inappropriate for the hour. But he knows that knock. That rhythm. That you. You need him. Not his solutions. Him. And somehow, that chaos pounding on his door feels more like home than anything else.

When you hug him from behindYou wrap your arms around his torso mid-task, face pressed between his shoulder blades, palms splayed across his chest like you’re anchoring yourself to something ancient and steady. He stills. Every time. Like someone just whispered a secret to his bones. He never asks why. Never moves away. He just tilts his head slightly—listening, as if your silence said everything he needed to hear.

When you touch his sword (the actual weapon, calm down)He never lets anyone handle it. Not even for cleaning. But your fingers skim the hilt, gentle, curious, reverent. And somehow… it’s okay. You’re not just touching steel. You’re touching him. And he lets you.

When you act like a little girlYou scrunch your nose. Say something ridiculous. Blush like you didn’t mean to. And he watches—utterly disarmed. Because he knows exactly what you want. You want him to carry you. Wrap you up. Keep you safe. And he will—without hesitation.

When you join him on a morning runYou complain. You lag. You swear this is “not your vibe.” But you still show up. Same hour. Same route. And when you match his pace for those few precious minutes? He doesn’t say it—but he’s proud. Painfully proud.

When you share your dreams—and say “we”You’re rambling. Light spilling from your words. Talking about the future, the maybes, the next steps. But you don’t say I. You say we. And that sound? That tiny shift in grammar? It settles deep. Irrevocable. Permanent.

When you make matching braceletsYou say it’s silly. Handmade. Slightly uneven. There’s a charm shaped like a rabbit. He never takes it off. Not in combat. Not in sleep. It rests against his wrist like a pressure point—and grounds him better than anything else.

When you remember his habitsYour shopping list always includes his cinnamon. His brand of shampoo. The exact instant noodles he pretends not to love. You don’t make a show of it. You just know. And that knowing? It destroys him in the softest possible way.

When you trust him completely in bed—even when his darker side surfacesThere’s a moment—quiet, charged—when the softness shifts. He waits. Watches. Braces for resistance. But you don’t pull back. You open your hands. Arch into him. Let him take control without fear. That? That’s what breaks him. Not the pleasure. The trust.

🖤Top 10 Things That Push Sylus Into Maximum Sarcasm and Mildly Homicidal Disapproval

Your outdated, unreliable weapon Yes, he gets it. It’s vintage. It’s “standard issue.” It’s approved by the Hunters Association. Congratulations. That won’t matter when it jams and gets you killed. Every time you return one of the sleek, upgraded firearms he hand-delivers like he’s your personal armory concierge, he has to resist asking if you've already made a draft of your death wish. Alphabetically sorted. With floral headers.

You chew gum—and pop it It’s not the gum. It’s the snap. The sudden, violent pop of sugary air bubbles that hits his trauma response like a trigger. He knows it’s just a noise. His shoulder still twitches. He’s this close to reaching into your mouth and extracting the gum like a gentleman. A very sarcastic, deeply annoyed, half-feral gentleman.

You try to shake your tail (him) You use stealth tech. You block your signal. You go dark. Adorable. You’re forgetting that the very system you’re relying on was developed by his own syndicate. The only person who ever really evades Sylus is Sylus. And maybe the cat that lives under his car. But not you. Never you.

You don’t introduce him as your boyfriend to your old classmates You panicked. He gets that. You called him “a friend.” And now he’s deeply committed to the bit. For the next seven days, every time you said anything, he replied with “Of course, as your friend…” in front of waiters, dealers, and one extremely confused ambassador. You only managed to shut it down by hastily posting a photo of you two with the caption “my boyfriend and the love of my life.” Acceptable recovery. Barely.

You refuse to use his resources His private jet? Untouched. His cars? Collecting dust. His black card? Sitting unused like some kind of insult in your purse. You say you’re “independent.” He says you’re actively offending his entire lifestyle philosophy. Do you have any idea how disrespectful it is to ignore an entire walk-in wardrobe prepared for you in his estate? Honestly, it’s almost admirable. Almost.

You once smoked a cigarette, and he saw it He didn’t say anything. At the time. Just looked at you. Silently. Like someone had drop-kicked a kitten in front of him. He’s not judging. He’s just picturing your lungs in an ashtray. And adding another page to your death wish list.

You speak in riddles and expect him to “get it” You want something—time away, a trip, his attention—but instead of asking, you sigh dramatically and murmur, “It’s fine. I guess some people just don’t want to escape the city with their girlfriends…” He blinks. Slow. Dangerous. “Was that a request, a riddle, or an emotional booby trap?” If you want something from him, Kitten, try using nouns and verbs. Not cryptic guilt puzzles.

You suggest another woman would be “perfect for him” It’s a joke. Offhand. Barely a breath. But your voice wavers—just slightly—and that ruins it. He doesn’t want her. He doesn’t want options. He wants you. And now, thanks to your charming lapse in self-worth, he has to waste the rest of the evening reminding you that this face, this power, this entire empire already belongs to someone. Guess who.

You sneak up on him You never mean to. But somehow, you're always the one person who slips past every alarm, every trained instinct, and ends up whispering behind him when his brain is still in kill mode. It takes everything in him to not react on pure reflex. You think it’s cute. He thinks it’s potentially catastrophic.

You don’t believe him when he says he’s fine Yes, he’s bleeding. Yes, his shirt is soaked. But he said “it’s a scratch,” and when he says that—he means it. His body heals like a myth. Your worried face? It makes something in him ache. Because the real wound isn’t on him—it’s in you, for thinking he’s anything less than unbreakable.

🖤 Top 10 Things That Make Sylus Dangerously Soft for You (And Yes, He’s Keeping Score)

When you finally spend his money It started with coffee. Small. Harmless. But the alert hit his phone and, for a moment, he genuinely wondered if his card had been stolen—until he saw your name. And something in him shifted. Not because of the cost. Please. He could buy the city it was brewed in. No, it was the fact you used it. You. Willingly. Now? You’re bolder—little dresses, shoes, jewelry you don’t need. And every time you do, he rewards it like you just proved you understand the assignment: what's his, is already yours.

When you give orders to his men like you're the boss You don’t ask. You instruct. Calm, certain, completely in charge. One of his men hesitates—just once—while you’re directing them to rescue a terrified kitten stuck in a tree. Sylus doesn’t interfere. He just watches, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth as armed professionals scramble to obey you like you're the patron saint of lost animals. Somewhere in his mind, he’s already fitted you for a crown. With tiny cat ears.

When you secretly pet Mephisto The mechanical raven used to drive you insane. Now? You’re sneaking him treats and absentminded scratches under the jaw. Sylus sees it. Says nothing. But deep down, he knows: if you’ve accepted the bird—you’ve accepted all of him. And that’s lethal. To him.

When you make him a playlist You never explain them. Just send a link and say nothing. But he listens—every time. Alone. In his car. In the bath. Eyes closed, calculating your every choice like it’s encrypted intel. Each track? A hint. A mood. A coded message from you to him. He doesn’t ask for them. He just waits for the next one. And when it arrives, he treats it like gospel.

When you leave a trail of chaos in his car Your hair on the seat. Your gum wrappers in the cup holder. The seat so close to the wheel he practically has to fold in half. And the music? A full-volume love ballad ready to ambush his eardrums at ignition. It's obnoxious. It’s inconvenient. It’s perfect. His life, now featuring you.

When you eat from his plate You swore you weren’t hungry. You said “no carbs this week.” And now? You’re stealing fries from his hand and dipping into his steak sauce like it’s your birthright. He doesn’t stop you. He just watches you chew with that look that says: mine. forever.

When you talk and talk and talk Something happens. You spiral. Words spill. Thoughts tangle. You’re not even aware you’re rambling—but he is. He listens to everything. Stores it all. Because there’s something magical about your voice when it’s unfiltered. You don’t realize it, but he falls a little harder every time you forget to censor yourself.

When you crawl into his lap while he’s working He’s in the middle of paperwork. Calculating things. Dangerous things. And suddenly—you. Right there. Knees on either side, arms around his neck, like the world’s most beautiful interruption. He tells himself he needs to finish. But his hands are already on your hips.

When you call and ask for help A jar. A stuck zipper. A ride. It doesn’t matter. You’re a trained hunter—you’ve faced things with claws, fangs, and no name. But you still call him. Because you want him. And that? That wrecks him in ways he’ll never admit. He’s already on his way before you hang up.

When you scream his name right before you come There’s a lot he’s proud of. His empire. His power. His record. But nothing—nothing—satisfies him more than the moment your voice breaks open with his name. Like prayer. Like surrender. Like he’s the only thing in your world. Which, of course… he is.

13K notes · View notes

moonwish · 1 year ago

Text

turbulent events have happened tonight

#celebrated international children's day with my high school english teacher #yes we have been friends for almost 10 years. since i was in 9th grade #yes he is 19 years older than me #talked about the old friend group which consisted about like three of us high school girls and a bunch of college guys who were all at least #4 or 5 years older than us. yes every guy crushed on the same girl at one point. i was in a relationship with the oldest of them #one of them who was tangentially in the group now has psychiatric problems. i don't know the specifics. he was to get married to this random #ass girl who got pregnant at 22/23 by another guy #idk who exactly but suffice to say they are not together anymore #we discussed my cancer situation. my ex (who apparently will love me forever) was crying a lot about it and seemed shaken up #even at their little guys christmas reunion last year #he texted me in december saying a part of me lives and will always live inside of him and that he loves me no matter what #i was honestly at a complete loss for words because we broke up 5 years ago. we literally had no future together #one of the other guys apparently said back in december that it was no use texting me encouraging words because we had drifted apart #that is the same guy i crushed on for 6 years. i still wished him a happy birthday in april tho.#it's okay because my crush on him vanished as soon as i realized he's a little piece of shit human. still likeable tho #and that is the issue. anyway. maybe i shouldn't have said piece of shit he's more like an annoying asshole which you still find endearing #talking to him now makes me realize he was never all that. high school me just thought he did really interesting things (which admittedly #were very interesting for that time and for our little town)#about my ex tho #even though i have no feelings for him anymore i think it's really beautiful that what we had is staying with him like that. i hope #it doesn't stop him from having a healthy and loving relationship in the future #i know he had multiple relationships after me but none of them really worked out. i really hope he finds that happiness #the way that i have

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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

Text

Netflix Suffers

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: Netflix suffers through quietly private Oscar for 2 and a half whole seasons of Drive to Survive.

Notes: Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

FEBRUARY 2022

🗂️ FILE: Netflix DTS SEASON 5 - Notes

SUBJECT: Oscar Piastri

AUTHOR: Emily Kingsley (Producer)

New talent, F2&F3 champ, Alpine reserve – strong potential for screen time once on the grid. Quiet but smart. Needs camera time to build profile. Likely to debut in 2023.

Approach for low-key content – i.e., “day in the life” while in reserve role. Ideal filming locations: Enstone, coffee shop, sim work, etc. (NO home shoot yet, build trust first.)

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: [CONFIDENTIAL] Driver Profiles – Oscar Piastri

We should absolutely start tracking Oscar Piastri content.

Even if he’s just the reserve driver this year, the hype around him is ridiculous. Also, Alpine won’t stop talking about “the future.” He’s calm on camera, photogenic, and his stats in F2 were insane. I don’t think he has the ‘media darling’ vibe yet, but maybe that’s the charm?

(Also, if he ever opens up, I think we’ll find something really good there.)

***

MARCH 2022

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Oscar — Filming Availability?

Hi Mark,

Hope you’re well — I wanted to reach out regarding some potential filming time with Oscar in the next few weeks. We’re spotlighting the Alpine Academy as part of a talent pipeline feature for Drive to Survive, and Oscar’s obviously central to that.

We’d love to do something a little more personal, maybe in Australia if he’s home during the race weekend? Just informal stuff — walks along the coast, cooking dinner, time with the family.

Would he be open?

Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Oscar — Filming Availability?

Hey Emily,

Appreciate the ask. Just a heads up: Oscar’s not big on the personal angle. He’ll do talking heads, training shots, maybe some light garage footage, but filming in Aus is a no.

He won’t budge on that.

Cheers, Mark

***

APRIL 2022

🗂️ FILE: Netflix DTS SEASON 5 - Notes

SUBJECT: Oscar Piastri

AUTHOR: Emily Kingsley (Producer)

Piastri’s still cagey. Got him for like 10 seconds in the Alpine motorhome. Media-trained within an inch of his life. Never says more than necessary. No mention of family, background, anything. I swear he arrives and vanishes like a ghost.

***

MAY 2022

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Filming Opportunity

Hey Mark,

Quick question—do you think Oscar would be open to a short sit-down segment before the summer break? Just a few minutes of reflection on the reserve role, how he’s prepping for the future. We wouldn’t push anything personal.

Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Alpine Segment

Hi Emily, Oscar appreciates the ask but he’s going to pass. Head down for now.

He’s not the “talk it out on camera” type.

Cheers, Mark

***

AUGUST 2022

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: What

Update: Alpine just announced Oscar Piastri as their 2023 driver.

Two hours later… Oscar publicly denied it.

We’re pivoting this entire storyline.

Please prep:

New B-roll

Emergency reaction interviews

A very patient attitude

God help us.

— Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: URGENT: Oscar Piastri Content Opportunity

Hi Mark,

We’re obviously across the Alpine press release and Oscar’s... shall we say... firm rebuttal. I know it’s a delicate situation (understatement), but from a Drive to Survive perspective, this is GOLD.

Would Oscar be willing to do a sit-down? Nothing invasive, just some general footage — his perspective on the announcement, what he can and can’t say, maybe a voiceover? We could shoot it neutral — no team gear, simple setting, even his flat or somewhere casual?

Fans are already going wild. This is the biggest off-track story since Ricciardo to Renault. We don’t need the dirt — just a moment of “this is what it felt like from my side.”

Timing-wise, we’d want to film this week. Please let me know.

All best, Emily ***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: URGENT: Oscar Piastri Content Opportunity

Hi Emily,

Thanks for reaching out.

Understand where you’re coming from — and yeah, it’s certainly been a lively 48 hours.

That said: Oscar’s not going to film anything right now. He’s focusing on keeping his head down and letting the CRB process play out. Legal is involved, as I’m sure you can imagine.

Also, he's not keen on filming at home. Ever.

Will keep you posted if anything changes, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.

Best, Mark

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Quick Touch Base – Re: Statement Footage

Hi Oscar,

Just wanted to reach out personally and say we’re all very impressed by how gracefully you’re handling everything — not an easy situation.

If you’re open to it, we’d love to get a short piece to camera — even something as simple as your thoughts on what it’s been like these past few days. We can keep it high-level. No legal landmines, I promise.

Totally understand if now’s not the time. Just thought I’d ask directly.

Hope you’re well, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: Quick Touch Base – Re: Statement Footage

Hi Emily,

Thanks for the kind words.

I’d prefer not to be filmed right now. Nothing personal — just trying to keep things quiet while everything gets sorted.

Appreciate you checking in though.

Best, Oscar

***

INTERNAL NETFLIX SLACK THREAD: #DTS-production

Emily: Okay, so… Oscar very politely said no. Again. Mark also said no. I swear, they are a unified front of chill, lawyered-up silence. Which, okay, fine — but this is the most dramatic moment in F1 driver contract history and we’re filming damn car factories.

Emily: Also, quote of the week from Mark:“He’s not keen on filming at home. Ever.” What does he do at home? Stare at walls? Garden in secret? Marinate in contractual ambiguity?

Jason: I don’t think he even has a home. He might just unplug at the back of the simulator when no one’s looking.

Laura: Honestly, I’d believe that.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Oscar Piastri Situation – Emergency Pivot #2

Oscar has signed with McLaren. Alpine is pissed. The internet is on fire.

We absolutely need to feature this in the next season. Please prepare:

Voiceover drafts for "F1’s biggest contract twist"

New graphics

Backup plans for literally everything

He’s still refusing to be filmed outside of team facilities. I asked for a reaction clip — he said “no comment”.

This is going to be painful.

— E.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Okay, but hear me out

Hi Oscar, Totally respect your privacy—promise! But with everything happening, the contract, the Alpine/McLaren tug-of-war—this could be a defining story moment. Even just five minutes of your thoughts would mean so much.

We can do it on neutral ground. In a field. A parking lot. A hallway. You don’t even have to sit.

Please? Best, Emily

***

[NO REPLY]

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Filming Opportunity

I don’t even know which team to email anymore.

Alpine says he’s theirs.

Oscar says “no.”

I asked for an interview — even off-record. He said “not until everything is settled.” And he meant it.

At this point I’m tempted to just film Mark’s facial expressions and stitch a narrative together from that.

Oscar is cool as a cucumber and somehow still tells me nothing.

***

SEPTEMBER 2022

📱Text Message – Emily Kingsley -> Mark Webber

Emily: Hey — is Oscar open to a small sit-down to talk about his career path? Nothing contract specific.

Mark: He’ll do a brief neutral one, but no questions about Alpine or McLaren. And no “fun behind-the-scenes” stuff. Just racing.

***

DECEMBER 2022

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Oscar Piastri – Summary of 2022 Access

All personal/home/family requests denied.

No on-location filming allowed outside official team appearances.

Only gave us 2 usable soundbites and one very neutral post-contract interview.

Refuses to discuss “loyalty” or “betrayal” — insisted “it’s just contracts.”

Tried to bribe cameraman with coffee to stop filming.

Did not laugh at any of my jokes.

Conclusion: Oscar Piastri is the single most media-resistant driver we’ve ever had.

Future suggestion: If he ever lets us film at home, there’s either been a major personality change… or he’s hiding something.

(Honestly starting to bet on the second one.)

— Emily

***

FEBRUARY 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Sophie Ogg <[email protected]>

Subject: Oscar Piastri Filming Access (Clarification)

Hi! Just checking again on the possibility of doing a “rookie spotlight” feature with Oscar. Something simple: breakfast, drive to the track, post-race reflection? We can be as unobtrusive as needed.

Let me know what he’s comfortable with!

Thanks, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Sophie Ogg <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: Oscar Piastri Filming Access (Clarification)

Hi Emily,

Oscar is happy to participate in behind-the-scenes filming at the track, during media day, or at the McLaren Technology Centre (MTC). He’s not comfortable with at-home or family-based filming at this time.

We’ll loop you in when he’s scheduled for a sim session or debrief we can film.

Best, Sophie

***

🗂️ FILE: Netflix DTS SEASON 5 - Notes

SUBJECT: Oscar Piastri

AUTHOR: Emily Kingsley (Producer)Production Log – Episode Notes: Oscar Piastri Rookie Year (Draft)

All track footage cleared.

MTC sim session + papaya feature: ✅

Emotional arcs = ??

No family interviews, no at-home footage, no old footage allowed.

Oscar is friendly, professional, and zero drama.

***

MARCH 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: DTS Filming Requests – Oscar Piastri

Hi Oscar,

Thanks again for letting us tag along during media day in Bahrain. Really appreciated your patience with the cameras—and the boom mic guy stepping on your shoelace.

As discussed, we’d love to schedule a small sit-down interview for the Melbourne episode. Maybe something reflective, personal—“Coming Home” kind of vibe?

We’re thinking your old karting track, maybe your parents’ place if they’re comfortable?

Let me know what works!

Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Re: DTS Filming Requests – Oscar Piastri

Hi Emily,

Thanks for the email. Glad the crew got everything they needed.

Appreciate the idea—but I’d prefer not to film anything personal around Melbourne, if that’s okay. I’m happy to do more McLaren-based interviews, behind-the-scenes from the garage, prep footage, etc.

Thanks for understanding.

Best, Oscar

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Request Re: Australia GP Segment

Hi Mark,

We’d really love to get Oscar into a segment for the Melbourne GP this year — something personal, local, that grounds him a bit. Maybe a visit to his childhood kart track? A walk around his hometown? Even just some shots with family, if they’re comfortable? It’d add great context.

Best,

Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Request Re:Australia GP Segment

Hi Emily,

Appreciate the thought. It’s a no for the hometown and the family.

He’s not being difficult. He just values his privacy more than most.

Cheers, Mark

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: DTS Feature Ideas – Oscar Piastri

Hi Mark,

We would love to film some home content with Oscar while he's in Australia. Fans are eager for more of his personality and background, especially given how impressive his rookie season is shaping up to be.

Would he be open to filming in Melbourne with his family? Even just an afternoon BBQ or a sit-down with his parents? We can keep it light and casual.

Let me know! Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Re: DTS Feature Ideas – Oscar Piastri

Hey Emily,

Appreciate the enthusiasm, but that’s still going to be a no from Oscar.

He’s been clear since the beginning: no filming with family, and definitely not at his house.

You can try asking again, but between you and me? Won’t change his mind.

Cheers, Mark

***

📱Text Message – Emily Kingsley -> Oscar Piastri

Emily: Hey Oscar! Just wanted to check if you’ve reconsidered filming a short segment in Australia? A lot of the younger guys have had great feedback from showing a bit of their life at home.

Oscar: Appreciate the offer, but that’s a no from me.

Emily: Not even a beach walk? A café? A dog? You don’t even have to speak.

Oscar: Still no.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Oscar Piastri – Personal Storyline Attempts

Notes:

Reached out 3 times for Australia-based filming. All rejected.

Mark Webber confirms this is standard.

Oscar is exceedingly polite but very firm on privacy.

Refuses family involvement. Refuses filming at home. Declined filming with childhood photos or karting footage unless pre-approved.

No girlfriend, parents, or siblings allowed on screen.

“Keeps things boring on purpose” — per one of McLaren’s PR guys.

***

APRIL 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Rookie Coverage – Piastri

Team,

Oscar Piastri is officially the most confusing human being I’ve ever tried to film.

We are four races in. He’s:

Scored points.

Been praised by everyone from Lando Norris to freaking Fernando Alonso.

Referred to as “a robot with a perfect driving line” on Reddit.

And he still won’t film anything outside the paddock. Not even a coffee run. Not even a “walk-and-talk” through the McLaren motorhome.

He said — and I quote — “The racing should be the interesting part.”

I need an aspirin.

— Emily

***

MAY 2023

📱Text Message – Emily Kingsley -> Oscar Piastri

Emily: What about a day-in-the-life shoot? Just a few shots at your apartment, packing your helmet, chatting over coffee?

Oscar: I don’t drink coffee.

Emily: Tea?

Oscar: Still no.

Emily: A silent montage of you sitting on the couch?

Oscar: No thanks.

***

JUNE 2023

🗂️ FILE: Netflix DTS SEASON 5 - Notes

SUBJECT: Oscar Piastri

AUTHOR: Emily Kingsley (Producer)

Asked Oscar directly in the paddock. Said (verbatim): “I’m just here to race. I’m not really into the storytelling stuff.”

Said it politely. Somehow made me feel bad for asking.

He’s 22 and already gives media-trained veteran energy.

No public drama. No family content. No home content. Not even a cat. What is he hiding?

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Mid-Season Filming Plans – DTS

Hi Oscar,

Just circling back on upcoming storylines—we’d love to get a personal angle in the Silverstone episode. Maybe something about how the transition to McLaren has affected your day-to-day?

Let me know if there’s any setting or topic you would be comfortable with. Even something low-key, like lunch with friends or your sim setup at home.

Hope the triple-header isn’t wearing you down too much.

Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Mid-Season Filming Plans – DTS

Hi Emily,

Thanks again—really appreciate the thought and planning. I’m good with filming at McLaren, any sim stuff can be done there too. Just no home filming, please.

Best, Oscar

***

JULY 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Zak Brown <[email protected]>

Subject: Oscar Piastri - Filming Permission Request

Hi Zak,

We’re hoping to film some light content with Oscar off-track — nothing invasive, just lifestyle b-roll. Maybe a post-race decompress scene? It’s for his rookie arc.

He’s been polite, but firm: no house, no “at home,” no background info, no family questions. It’s like trying to film a hologram.

Would appreciate your support in encouraging him — he’s a huge part of this season.

Thanks, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Zak Brown <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Oscar Piastri - Filming Permission Request

Hey Emily,

Appreciate the hustle, but Oscar’s...let’s say “particular.” Doesn’t like cameras unless he’s in the car or on the grid.

We’ve all tried. Even Lando gave up.

Keep doing your best — and don’t take it personally. That kid keeps his world very locked down.

***

SEPTEMBER 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Rookie Year – Piastri Workaround

Still no home footage.

Still no family mentions.

Still no idea what this man does outside of racing and eating bananas.

BUT:

He said we can film a sit-down if it’s in a neutral hotel room, lasts no more than 12 minutes, and avoids questions about “loyalty,” “controversy,” or “anything that sounds like a TikTok thirst trap.”

He did blink when I asked about his support system, so... possible crack in the armor?

Still suspicious about why he’s so protective of home life. My bet: secret girlfriend.

Emily

***

📱Text Message – Emily Kingsley -> Oscar Piastri

Emily: Okay, totally off the record — is there a reason you’re so locked down about your personal life?

Oscar: Probably.

Emily: That’s not an answer.

Oscar: Still true.

Emily: Come on, even Lando lets us film his kitchen. Just one little peek into home life?

Oscar: There’s nothing interesting there.

Emily: I don’t believe you.

***

OCTOBER 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Oscar Piastri - Filming Permission Request

Mark.

I will buy you a very nice bottle of wine if you just tell me why Oscar is so secretive. Is he secretly a monk? Is there a bunker full of cats?

I’m not trying to pry. I just want to make good television.

Please.

Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Just Tell Me Why

Ha.

Emily, he’s not hiding scandal, if that’s what you’re worried about. He just keeps things close. Always has. Family, relationships, the whole deal.

You won’t get him to change his mind unless he decides to. Trust me.

Cheers

Mark

***

DECEMBER 2023

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: End-of-Season Wrap – Oscar Piastri

Final access level:

Filmed: 2 interviews, 4 race weekends, 0 personal segments.

Declined: 12 off-track requests.

Quotes of the year: “I don’t think that’s relevant,” “Not today,” and “No thanks.”

Still no footage of:

His apartment

His family

Literally anything that tells us he’s a human being and not a polite race-bot

Final verdict: He’s hiding something. I just have no idea what. Yet.

— Emily

***

JANUARY 2024

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Piastri Segment – “Still Nothing” Update

Team,

We’re heading into Season 6 planning, and in case anyone had delusions of cracking Oscar Piastri this year, here’s a little refresher of how the last few weeks went:

Team McLaren OK’d filming around the garage, factory, even a simulator session.

Oscar OK’d a sit-down interview, as long as the topics were racing, racing, and also racing.

Oscar absolutely, categorically, politely said “no thank you” to anything involving:

His home

His background

His personal life

His off-track activities

Any “day in the life” filming

Every single “soft” question we attempted (ex. “What’s your go-to comfort food?” led to: “Whatever Bees likes—sorry, I mean—whatever I feel like.”)

He nearly had a stroke when someone asked if he had a pet.

We’re still in the dark. I don’t know what’s going on. But I know it’s not nothing.

— Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: DTS Season 6 – Early Shoot Availability Hi Oscar,

Hope you’re doing well and had a restful off-season! We’re lining up some early-season shoots with returning drivers and wanted to check if you’d be available for a quick segment in February.

Nothing invasive — just a casual piece on how you spent the break, training routines, and maybe a few reflections from home. Could be in Monaco, or if you’re back in Australia—

Best, Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: Filming Opportunity

Hi Emily,

Thanks for reaching out. Appreciate the offer, but I’ll pass on the home segment.

Happy to do something at the track during pre-season testing though.

Regards, Oscar

***

FEBRUARY 2024

INTERNAL NETFLIX SLACK THREAD: #DTS-production

Emily: Oscar deflected a “What do you like to do in your free time?” with “Tidy the garage.”

Jason: That’s so serial killer coded.

Emily: He said he’s “too boring for Netflix.” With a straight face. I know he’s hiding something.

Owen: Secret girlfriend?

Laura: Or has a dog named after a politician. Or something. No one is this allergic to personal questions unless they’re deeply interesting.

***

MARCH 2024

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Drive to Survive – Post-Race Australia Segment?

Hi Oscar, Congrats on surviving the Melbourne media gauntlet.

We were wondering if you'd be open to filming a short post-race reflection scene in Australia. Could be something casual—coffee with a friend, walk around a local kart track, even something at home if you're comfortable. We’d love to highlight the “local kid comes home” angle.

Let us know. We're flexible on format and timing!

Best, Emily

***

📱Text Message – Oscar Piastri → Mark Webber

Oscar: Did you see Emily’s email? Again with the home filming ask.

Mark: You know the drill. Smile, say thanks, say no.

Oscar: Smiled. Said thanks. Said no.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Drive to Survive – Post-Race Australia Segment?

Hi Emily, Appreciate the note and the kind words.

I’d prefer to keep any filming this season within the McLaren environment or at-track settings. I’m not comfortable including personal locations or relationships in the show at this stage.

Thanks again for understanding.

Best, Oscar

***

INTERNAL NETFLIX SLACK THREAD: #DTS-production

Emily: Oscar Piastri is the politest stone wall I’ve ever met.

Owen: We got nothing personal from his Australia weekend?

Emily: He let us film one (1) shot of him walking into the paddock in the rain. Incredible cheekbones. Zero content.

Jason: I tried asking him about his life outside the sport and he hit me with a “I’m focused on the team and the car this season.” Man’s media-trained like a royal.

Emily: I swear he has an underground bunker where his personality lives.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Just Checking In Again

Hi Mark, I know I sound like a broken record, but we’d really love to get a bit more personal access with Oscar this season—maybe even just a sit-down interview off-track, something with a bit more narrative depth.

We’re not trying to push. But it feels like there’s a story we’re missing.

Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Just Checking In Again

Hey Emily, Appreciate the persistence. But as I said back in '22—if he hasn’t offered it, he won’t. Oscar keeps his circle tight and his cards closer. It’s not a slight. It’s just how he’s built.

Cheers, Mark

***

APRIL 2024

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Quick sanity check

Hi Mark, Sorry to bother you—just wanted to check if there’s any movement on Oscar maybe letting us do a more personal feature. Doesn’t even have to be Australia. A glimpse into his life off-track, maybe a cooking scene or something with friends?

We keep getting polite refusals, and I just want to make sure we’re not missing a scheduling window or an angle he would be comfortable with.

Appreciate the help. Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Quick sanity check

Hi Emily, You’re not missing anything. He’s just not going to do it.

Oscar’s private life is exactly that—private. Always has been. Always will be. Take it from me: if he hasn’t agreed by now, he’s not going to.

Cheers, Mark

P.S. Don’t take it personally.

***

INTERNAL NETFLIX SLACK THREAD: #DTS-production

Laura: I JUST SAW THE CLIP.

Emily: guys

Emily: GUYS

Emily: OSCAR IS MARRIED

Josh: huh?

Josh: LIKE ACTUALLY? was this announced?

Emily: YES. 10 MINUTES AGO. FAN STAGE. LIVE.

Emily: Lando had a SPIRITUAL CRISIS on stage

Josh: pls tell me we have the rights to that footage

Josh: pls

Naomi: I’m already scrubbing the audio

Naomi: it’s Oscar saying “10/10. would always marry her again.” while Lando combusts

Naomi: Oscar dropped a wife reveal like it was lap data

Emily: I HAVE SPENT TWO YEARS TRYING TO FILM THIS MAN’S HOME LIFE

Emily: HE SAID NO. EVERY TIME.

Emily: AND HE WAS MARRIED THE WHOLE TIME

Emily: MARRIED.

Emily: WITH A WHOLE ASS WIFE.

Laura: He said "at home. On the bed." That man is accidentally romantic. Is he okay?? Are we okay??

Tom: Compiling top fan tweets now. Lando screaming "YOU HAVE A WIFE?!" is our new episode cold open.

Owen: Also, is it true Nicole Piastri only found out after the wedding? Because that’s... incredible.

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: URGENT: PIASTRI MARRIAGE REVEAL - DAMAGE CONTROL & CONTENT PITCH

Team,

Hi. I am going to scream into the sun.

Apparently, Oscar Piastri has been married since he was eighteen. He announced it casually at a live fan stage during a game of "Would You Rather."

I’m attaching the clip. Please note the moment where Lando nearly dies. That is not an exaggeration.

Key Details:

Oscar is married. Legally. Since age 18.

No one on our team knew. No one in the paddock seems to have known.

His wife is still unnamed. No photos. No social media. She’s basically an encrypted file.

Lando screamed “I’M YOUR FRIEND” and the internet is now in full nuclear meltdown.

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND. This is the best story we never got. Five seasons of silence and he was SITTING ON A SECRET WIFE.

We had NO IDEA.

Immediate action items:

Get the footage — we need every angle of this meltdown. Lando spitting out his drink is already trending.

Contact McLaren PR — and offer our eternal sympathy. Also ask if Oscar is open to filming with his wife. (I'm laughing. But also crying. But mostly laughing.)

New season pitch update — working title: "The Mysterious Mrs. Piastri"

Figure out what else he’s hiding — goats? underground bunker? A baby??

I will personally be contacting Oscar. I have already made peace with the fact that he will say "no."

Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: James Landon (Post-Production)<[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Oscar Segment - Recut Suggestions

Can we go back through the Season 5 footage and check for:

Any signs of a ring

Vague mentions of "someone"

Literally ANY CLUE

We might have to go full "true crime" voiceover: "The clues were there all along..."

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Legal <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Request for Contact - Mrs. Piastri

We will need:

Name

Signed release form

Any footage/photos if she's ever appeared accidentally

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Can We Get Her On Camera?

Mark,

Any shot Oscar’s wife would be willing to do a sit-down? Even just audio? Silhouette? Shadow puppet reenactment?

Emily

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Can We Get Her On Camera?

Emily,

Felicity Piastri is as scary with power tools as she is with spreadsheets.

Your odds are low.

But hey, miracles happen.

Mark

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Hannah Gray <[email protected]>

To: Production Team DTS

Subject: Emergency Title Brainstorm - Oscar Episode

Options so far:

"The Mysterious Mrs. Piastri"

"The Quiet One"

"Marriage? I Hardly Knew Him!"

"Oscar and the Secret Life"

"How To Hide A Wife"

Open to pitches. (Also therapy.)

***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Sophie Ogg <[email protected]> , Zak Brown <[email protected]>, Andrea Stella <[email protected]>,

Subject: Netflix Inquiry — Episode Rights: Oscar Piastri Reveal

Hi Sophie, Zak, Andrea —

Hope you’re surviving the media spike after the fan stage.

We’d love to coordinate on messaging around Oscar’s marriage announcement. It seems to have caught the internet (and... Lando) by surprise, and obviously we'd like to be sensitive but thorough in our approach moving forward.

Can we please set up a time tomorrow to discuss:

Whether you’ve worked with Oscar’s wife in any media/brand capacities

Any upcoming content opportunities that include her

Name/pronunciation/bio for our internal briefings

Preferred narrative tone from McLaren’s side

Thanks in advance, Emily ***

📩 EMAIL

From: Sophie Ogg <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]> , Zak Brown <[email protected]>, Andrea Stella <[email protected]>,

Subject: Netflix Inquiry — Episode Rights: Oscar Piastri Reveal

Hi Emily,

Thanks for reaching out.

To be entirely transparent with you… We didn’t know either.

Zak may have been aware, but the wider team (including PR) was very much in the same position as Lando: confused, betrayed, and on the verge of cardiac arrest.

We don’t have a name, a bio, or a backstory. We don’t even have a wedding date. There is apparently a whole wife who has been around for years. Since Oscar was in high school. We are still... adjusting.

So at this stage, we unfortunately can’t provide any of the materials you're requesting. We also do not currently have any brand involvement or photo access.

As of now, we have no official statement prepared. PR is regrouping. I cried.

Please give us a moment to breathe.

We’ll reach out to Oscar once he’s finished his debrief (and Lando stops yelling), and update you as soon as we can.

Best, Sophie ***

📩 EMAIL

From: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

To: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Just Following Up (About The Whole Secret Marriage Thing)

Hi Oscar,

I hope you’re well and had time to breathe after what was… arguably the most internet-breaking moment of the entire season.

To be direct: First, congratulations. Second, WHAT THE HELL. Third, would you be open to a quick follow-up filming session or even a private sit-down interview to elaborate a little more on today’s revelation? Just… anything, really.

It’s safe to say you’ve just ignited the most unexpected story arc of Drive to Survive Season 7, and we’d love to give it the justice it deserves. We can keep it tasteful. We can blur the wedding photos. We can film in shadows like a crime doc if you want.

Let me know your thoughts — or have your mystery wife get in touch if she wants to.

Warm regards (and mild panic), Emily

📩 EMAIL

From: Oscar Piastri <[email protected]>

To: Emily Kingsley <[email protected]>

CC: Mark Webber <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: Filming Opportunity

Hi Emily,

Thanks for the congratulations. And sorry, I didn’t mean to cause… whatever that was.

To clarify:

Yes, I’ve been married since 2019.

No, we’re not filming anything at home.

No, we’re not filming my wife.

Happy to talk about racing, contracts, simulator work, car setup, or tire degradation. Private life is private, as always.

Best, Oscar

#formula 1 #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #Oscar Piastri fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #op81 fic #op81 imagine

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ghostlyferrettarot · 1 month ago

Text

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚Pick A Card: Your love story with your future spouse 💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

🌸If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🌸

🥰Masterlist🥰🥰Masterlist 2🥰

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 1: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: 5 of Swords – The Tower – 2 of Cups – Knight of Wands – Justice – The Star.

Okay pile 1, you and your future spouse are starting off with a strange energy. There's some competition in the air. It's giving enemies to lovers, and Maxton Hall vibes (go watch it if you haven't ;)). There's strife, friction, a vibe of intellectual, professional, or ego rivalry. You may work together, have opposing opinions on everything, or you may simply not be able to stand each other because there's too much tension… emotional and other 👀. The Tower appears when something crucial happens between you. A heated argument, an unexpected confession, a situation that completely breaks the impression you had on eachother, etc. Whatever happens, it makes you see each other with new eyes. Something falls apart, and underneath there are feelings (even if you two dont want to admit it at first, i see you guys but it will be undeniable). There's vulnerability in this, like a "oh no… I like you" situation. This person will truly see you because you two are so much alike, you have the same fire as them. And then, without knowing how, you're sharing something real. Fights now end in laughter. Or kisses. Or both 👀. Justice shows me that you're learning to balance each other. That you're both intense, yes, but you're also learning to admire each other. To trust. To build. And the Star is pure healing. This bond transforms you. You don't just love each other: you polish each other, you elevate each other, you truly understand each other. You're going to have to swallow your pride. But it's completely worth it. It's giving rom-com, 10 Things I Hate About You, Bridgerton (season 2 specially).

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 2: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: 6 of Cups – 3 of Swords – The Lovers – Death – King of Cups – Temperance.

This story has HISTORY, I feel like this is some past energy. You and your future spouse have met before. Maybe it was young love, crushes that didn't quite work out, or someone with whom things just didn't align. There was a breakup. It hurt. Maybe you each went your separate ways, believing you'd get over it. Spoiler pile 2: you didn't get over it 🙃, and that's for the best. Maybe it was someone you met briefly and never forgot, or the other way around. Or even someone from another life. Something forced you to let go before your time. And it wasn't fair. It wasn't the ending you deserved. BUT. Fate didn't forget you. The Lovers mark the reappearance of this person. The reunion. Maybe years later. Maybe when you didn't even expect it. But love returns. And with the Death card, the energy changes radically, this time you are not the same. This time you choose each other with maturity. With awareness. And believe me, this reunion is no coincidence, it's karmic. You are not who you were. And that's good. Now you're ready. The King of Cups represents a wise, present, deep love. And Temperance is the calm after the storm. This relationship becomes a refuge. A safe space. A form of love that only exists when you've known pain and decided to heal with each other. Sometimes the timing isn't right… until it is. And then, everything falls into place as if it was always meant to be. Something that's coming to mind while i'm channeling is the movie Love Rosie, so I feel like that's the kind of story you two will have. Maybe this is a friend of yours as well, someone close.

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 3: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: The Fool – 4 of Wands – The World – Ace of Cups – Wheel of Fortune – Queen of Pentacles.

PILE 3 I'm really screaming, your romance that seems straight out of a book. This is the kind of story where you wake up one day, go about your routine like any other, and suddenly, you meet someone who completely changes the course of your life. It's that powerful energy. You're entering a new phase. Maybe you just moved, quit a job, decided to live for yourself. You're exploring, growing. And then, without even looking for it… they appear. A person who looks at you as if they've known you before. ITS GIVING SOULMATES SO HARD. You might meet at a wedding, a party, a ceremony… or even through someone else. Either way, there's an IMMEDIATE vibe of "why do I feel like I already know you?" This connection is cosmic. This person celebrates you. They're with you. They don't want to change you or rescue you: they want to see you shine. There are synchronicities everywhere, like repeated numbers, "chance" encounters, phrases that repeat themselves in your dreams. Maybe you already met them in dreams, or your higher selves have already met. With this person, you feel free, accepted, safe. The Wheel of Fortune screams to me: this is destiny. You didn't plan it. But you can't avoid it. And the Queen of Pentacles shows a stable love, the kind that is built day by day, with care, with mate in the morning and massages after a long day. With this person, you will build a beautiful life, with roots. There is emotional security, stability, and a love so real it brings peace. This is "I saw it and I knew it." It's your home in the form of a person pile 3.

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚Thank you for reading and let me know if it resonated!💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

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falesten-iw · 9 months ago

Text

It's surreal to witness how easily some people can ignore the urgent situation in Gaza. They’re watching it unfold live: children and families in Gaza bombed, erased from their homes, but they still act like nothing’s happening. History will look back on this time, and it won't be forgiving. It won’t only remember those who supported the bombings; it will also remember those who sat back, shrugged, and scrolled past without a second thought. It will remember that we, as Palestinians, reached out for help but were met with indifference, silence, and passive inaction. There’s no difference between the Zionists and those who ignor our messages from Gaza. There’s no difference between the Zionists and those who witness our pain without acting. You are witnessing ethnic cleansing, and your reaction is ...... nothing. Blank faces, silence, a refusal to acknowledge the truth unfolding right in front of you. Are you really unable to spare $10, $15 or 20$ to save lives in Gaza? Are you too lazy to respond with even a word of support? Are we asking too much of your time?? Is 5 minutes of your time worth more than our lives in Gaza?? What are you going to tell your children, partner or loved ones when they ask what you did while all this was happening?? “Oh, I ignored their messages.” How will you justify staying silent when they flip through the history books in the future? A simple question for sharks: How do you think your followers will react when they realize you might turn a blind eye in their moments of need? What kind of influencer or artist chooses to ignore the pain of others? It’s been a year. More than 42,000 Palestinian civilians have been killed, and over 100,000 injured. Isn’t that enough? Or is the number still too small for you to care? Should we talk about the 10,000 missing or the countless unjustly imprisoned? Maybe you need to see every building in Gaza reduced to rubble before it finally “counts” for you. Do you feel a flicker of empathy? Of humanity? Or are you still waiting for the “right” moment to speak up and take action? History won’t just remember the silence. It will remember even you who ignored this post when your help and action were needed. My family in Gaza urgently needs your help, so please help us and donate now!

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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#yemen #jerusalem #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #war news #war on gaza #fuck the idf #palestinian resistance #israel #tel aviv

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overangel · 4 days ago

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αηgєℓ σн ѕнє'ѕ ƒαℓℓєη кєєριη' нєя нєαят gυαя∂є∂

❥ This is a yandere batfam x neglected!reader who regressed back in time story.

act 1, act 2, act 3, act 4, act 5

MDNI 18+ Only

[PLEASE READ: This chapter details Starling's suicidal thoughts and descriptive attempts during her past life as well as the abuse she suffered by members of the Batfamily. If that could be triggering for you in any way, please do not read. Please prioritize your mental health and well-being.] ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ. ᴡᴇ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ.. Welcome back to where you took your last breath and to the people who pushed you to that point over and over again. Take a moment to recount the injustices you suffered and the fleeting moments of sweetness that made you believe that there was still good in this world. Summon your courage. Don't look back. ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇɢᴏɴᴇ. ❥ TW: past suicide, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts, bullying, emotional and mental abuse, bodyshaming, disordered eating and habits, future incest

You strutted down the halls with a sure footed swagger you didn't have in the past. It should’ve been unfamiliar, this confidence, the sway in your hips, but your mannerisms had changed since the day you awoke in the hospital and you finally felt right.

Once upon a tragic time, you walked without making a sound, breathed as quietly as you could even if it made you dizzy, and never spoke unless spoken to. After a while your voice stopped coming; It was like you woke up one day to find it had disappeared.

But now? Your footsteps were music to your ears and you eyed the slimy tendrils sliding down the walls with irritation as they writhed and receded as you passed.

You could barely hide a sour expression behind your impassive mask as you could taste rotten eggs and death in the air as you put more distance between you and Bruce’s study.

It was true what they said about demons and hauntings having a smell and you held your breath as you powerwalked to get away from it. The odor had been concentrated in his study, one of his many broody corners, and you were getting lightheaded during your “talk.”

You’d almost smashed a paperweight through one of his windows because it was so overpowering.

No one could ignore that smell of death, but you realized that you were the only one who could smell the rot, see the tendrils, and hear the cries.

You were all alone in this but for some reason you were unafraid. Being alone and getting by with your own strength was thrilling and you couldn’t wait to see how far you’d go.

You finally spotted a bathroom and went in and locked the door behind you. Composure cracked as you hacked the last tastes of the spoiled smell away and rinsed your mouth and face with cool water.

You looked at your reflection and there you were.

In the mirror was your 16 year old self: Fresh from devastation and reeling from a series of events that you’d never truly heal from, but you were still here.

Your heart was still beating.

So many times you had prayed it’d stop and you’d go cold, but now hot tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you thought of your mother and loved ones and how it felt like you were given a second chance. Maybe they had given you this second chance.

Your eyes were tinged with a melancholy that you might be able to hide in time, but there was also excitement and mirth in them. You smiled as you admired yourself and sniffled. ‘Thank god I didn’t take after him.’

No one had ever been able to tell you were Bruce’s biological daughter and you were grateful for it in this life. You had truly been the physical black sheep back then, but while caressing your right cheek you thanked everything out there that you got your good looks from your mother’s side.

That’s right. Good looks. It’s funny how it took dying to clear your eyes of the undeserved self-hatred 10 years caused you. You were gazing at yourself as the way you were, not the way they wanted you to see yourself. You were good looking and your mom’s side did the heavy lifting.

You didn’t see Bruce through the rose tinted lenses that everyone else did. If they were ugly on the inside, it bled through to the outside and you couldn’t ignore it. Maybe you were just too honest like that. You knew which side of the family you got that from too.

In your critical eye, as someone who saw Bruce in the way he never showed the cameras, his apparent beauty was warped by his bad attitude and repugnant personality.

If you were being completely honest, he had a shovel chin and non-existent lips on a toothy mouth that lied more than he breathed.

His blue eyes were flat like the dead’s and as cold as a shark’s and his perpetually furrowed brows only pronounced a neanderthal-esque brow ridge and accelerated wrinkle development.

‘Hottest man alive, my ass.’

You saw everyone you had ever loved in your looks and if you ever felt alone, maybe you could just look in a mirror.

You noticed the bandage near your left eye and tugged to slowly peel it and the super strong adhesive from your tender skin. What lay beneath was a silvery crescent with a shimmery cast with both of its tips pointed away from your eye.

The scar was a few shades lighter than your natural tone and you tilted your head to watch it catch the bathroom’s light.

Your eyes widened and pupils trembled with emotion as you realized that it was pretty. You had hated everything about you, everything that showed what you’d been through—what made you broken—but you realized too late that there was never anything wrong with you.

You eyed the bandage around your neck and knew what was hidden behind it. A gnarly scar that wrapped around the front of your neck and was at least two inches in height and looked exactly like what it was—evidence of barbed wire having wrapped around your throat, wrenched your flesh, and nearly sawed your head from your body.

It was a reminder of what you survived and what was taken away. A permanent choker, but this time you wouldn’t constrict yourself.

It was healing incredibly fast and you’d keep the bandage on a few weeks longer until the wound was fully healed, and you wouldn’t hide it when it did. You weren’t hiding away for other’s comfort anymore.

Looking back, the scar had been a massive insecurity, especially when you were surrounded by unrealistically physically beautiful people.

Your skin had been one of your biggest insecurities and comparison had been the death of your happiness. You remember it like it was yesterday, the you of the past losing her mind over her skin not being as flawless as Barbara’s or Starfire’s.

Even Cass and Stephanie who fought hard every night were unfairly pretty with their scuffs and scrapes. You’d felt like there was something you lacked compared to them, and it was something you could never get no matter how hard you tried.

You lost yourself, and no one was there to help you find your way back.

You covered your neck and hands until the day you died with sweaters, hoodies, and turtlenecks no matter the season. You concealed your skin and the figure you’d been blessed with and for what? You didn’t have an answer because there wasn’t one. There was never a good reason to make yourself small to make others feel big.

You rolled up the thin sleeves of your top to expose your bandages, wiped your face, and gave the 16 year old you one final grin.

Her eyes sparkled back and you could see the woman you were just beneath the surface. She wanted to sink her teeth into something and let the juice run down her chin but you lightly persuaded her to cool it. All things in due time.

You left the bathroom with a slight smile on your lips and plans on your mind when you nearly bumped into Cassandra.

You blinked until you recognized her. She stared back at you unnervingly and you would’ve wondered what she was thinking of like you often did in the past if you actually cared.

You had been so curious about her in the past. She was a mystery to you, but so sweet and loving to the ones who earned her respect and you weren’t one of them.

It had hurt, but did it now? ‘Not at all.’

You were so over the doom and gloom and edginess of it all. You wanted open books, not the brooding mystery and darkness. These people needed to stop being allergic to healthy coping mechanisms and therapy.

You didn’t bother to smile, but you still didn’t exactly hate her. It was actually a good thing she was around since she could be Bruce’s little princess (it was always obvious she was the favorite) and they could distract each other while you went about your business.

You liked that idea as a corner of your mouth nearly curled before quickly being concealed. You turned your back and nearly turned the corner when she called out to your retreating form.

“Y/n.”

You paused and turned to her with no expectations. She didn’t know why she called out to you, but she really wanted—no, did she need?—to reach out.

There was something about you she couldn’t understand and her curiosity was piqued the moment you waltzed into the manor and clearly knew who was worth your time.

Your expressions were ever changing, and your eyes conveyed a keenness that spoke of much more beneath the surface. She needed to know more.

“Welcome.” She said awkwardly with eyes that searched your face for a lifeline, to grab hold of the olive branch she was extending and start a conversation because she didn't know where she was going with this. This wasn't lost on you. She didn’t “try” to reach out to you like she did the others.

She never had or wanted to, and she was the one to stare you down until you lost your nerve and scurried away in the past. Now, it was your turn to raise a brow.

‘I prayed for this for 10 years?’ Your eyes went cold as you turned your back.

It was a little too late, wasn't it?

Your heart fluttered with excitement—something you hadn’t felt in over 10 years—and it wasn’t with the delusion of being part of a big happy family or even being acknowledged.

No, there were bigger and better things that thrilled your heart and made you feel like you were walking on air. An uncertain future lay ahead but you were going to grab it with both hands.

Amidst the darkness that encased the manor, something sweet was calling out to you and telling you that you needed to go to the park. It was strange because you don’t recall ever going in the past—actually you don’t recall getting out much at all in the past—but you felt like that place was where you could kick off some of your plans.

You knew there would be key players you’d need to meet and places you’d need to venture to make your dreams come true, and you weren’t going to benefit by being a shrinking violet in this life.

Searching online, you found that you could get to Gotham Park by bus and the nearest bus stop was around a 3 mile walk from the manor. The weather was pleasant this time of year so walking the distance wouldn’t be a problem, and you could even get a bus pass online.

One little hitch is that you’d need bus fare and didn’t want to ask Alfred for money so soon.

You didn’t feel like answering any questions about leaving the manor when you hadn’t been out of the hospital for one day and huffed in annoyance.

Maybe if you buttered him up delicately over the next few days you could slip in the bit about needing a few dollars. The sweet hum tickled your ear, and gently called you to the next step. Gotham Park was the next stage of this game.

You walked familiar halls to the kitchen and looked back on the time you had avoided it—along with every other part of the mansion—completely.

It got to the point that even the thought of coming across a member of that damned family would make your heart seize up. You began to isolate yourself more and more until you stayed put in your room, the little bathroom in the same hall, and to the kitchen late at night when all was quiet or they were on patrol.

You snuck around like a thief in your own ‘home.’ The anxiety made you reclusive and being reclusive exacerbated the issues you already had and birthed even more. You were a complete agoraphobe by the time you were 20.

You frowned sadly. You couldn’t waste away in this house a second time.

The purple tendrils slithered down the sides of the walls like blood in old horror movies and wriggled with minds of their own. It was truly disgusting and you held your breath to keep from gagging.

You finally turned a corner and found salvation in Alfred who was in the kitchen and embraced by the light from the large bay window overlooking the garden. He was wiping a glass when you walked in.

“My, Young Mistress, I wanted to meet you and bring you back.” He checked his watch, “I’m so sorry. How did you find your way?”

“No need to apologize, Mr. Pennyworth. I retraced my steps no problem.” You typed.

Alfred was still disappointed in his miscalculation, but kept on, “How was your talk with Master Bruce?”

“It went well.” You swiped on your phone before pulling yourself into a seat and adjusting the bandages on your wrists. Alfred gazed at your face and found that the bandage beside your eye was now gone. “Ah, there’s my Young Mistress. I knew she were very pretty.”

You gasped and turned away so he couldn't see the smile that hurt your cheeks. The thing about compliments from Alfred was that they were always sincere as was everything he said.

If he called you pretty, it was because he genuinely thought so and that warmed your heart. Your family would’ve loved him.

“So, is this where you work your magic?” You texted, and Alfred let you change the subject with a knowing smile.

“I wouldn’t say it’s magic, but I haven’t had a complaint yet.”

You tried to rest your arms on top of the island and lean on them as comfortably as you could so that you could watch him.

The way he moved across the kitchen was nothing short of graceful. How could he make chores look elegant? It’s funny how you avoided the kitchen and the sunlight it let in because of fear when you felt so safe in this warmth now. It took you back to a time where you belonged somewhere and you knew that the people loved you.

You watched him in a daze and any remaining stress melted away as the image of him busy in the kitchen began to mesh with memories of your grandmother doing exactly the same. Being around him, around someone that made you feel so safe, made life’s challenges seem conquerable.

“I’m looking forward to what you’ve got planned. Something about you tells me that you know how to season your food.” You grinned and he chuckled. “I hope I don’t disappoint.”

You were so comfortable as the soft clinking of dishes, the running of water as he rinsed vegetables and the low bubbling of saucepans became sleep sounds to you.

“Where’s my head today?” Alfred sounded truly disappointed in himself. “Let me show you to your room, Young Mistress.” You looked up at him half awake with a trickle of drool nearly slipping from the corner of your parted mouth.

“Come on. Someone needs to rest before dinner.” You allowed him to guide you off the chair and towards your “new” room. You'd be lying if your said you hadn't been dreading this moment.

Your room had been your prison cell and sadly it was half self-imposed. Your room had simultaneously been your safe space where no one treaded after a few years and the place where the darkness concentrated the most.

‘Not again. Not again.’ You stood up straight and stepped to the side where you took Alfred’s arm in yours. You’d be brave. This wasn’t your prison. A lump formed in your throat that you could barely breathe around but you wouldn't let the shadows know it.

“My apologies, Young Mistress, but this’ll be a temporary fix. I’ve recently gotten permission to start renovations and plan to have a room made just for you.”

You think you remembered this. Alfred promised to work on your room, and he even got the go-ahead from Bruce but it was never completed. There was always something going on.

Some members of the family needed saving or all hell was breaking loose on actual hell on earth and Alfred was spread too thin.

You placed a gentle hand on his own reassuringly and expertly swiped with the other. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Pennyworth. I know you’re always busy. I’m happy just to have a roof over my head.”

This wasn’t just lip service to look good even though it certainly didn’t hurt to score more brownie points. You’d only be here for 2 years and planned on banishing demons and being outside for the most part. No need to stress Alfred over something so trivial.

Alfred froze like you had insulted his cooking. “What do you mean, Young Mistress? You deserve more than just a roof over your head and I’d thank you not to settle for the literal bare minimum.” He sucked in a breath between his teeth, “I already have catalogues and swatches for you to choose from.”

‘These plans will fall through, Alfred. It’s never going to happen.’ You smiled placatingly and patted his hand as you continued down a hall to a set of rooms reserved for uninvited guests.

You could feel a petty and sarcastic energy saying “Welcome Home” mockingly and it made your skin crawl, but you did one thing that your mother told you when you were having a panic attack at school, “Turn that fear into anger.”

Alfred opened your bedroom door and gestured for you to enter first.

He tried his best just like always. The duvet and pillows were freshly laundered and matched your favorite colors. He had washed and replaced the curtains and thoroughly dusted everything and aired out the room.

It was pleasantly plain save for the bundles of flowers, cards, small plushes and little goodie bags displayed on the chestnut desk. They were all gifts from the people who took care of you in the hospital.

You made a show of admiring the room and the care Alfred put into arranging it for you and looked at the names on the cards.

Not a single one from your new “family.”

It’s a good thing things hadn’t changed; this would make it easier to be as much of an ass as you wanted to be.

You looked over to Alfred and a wide, heart-melting smile spread across your face. Your eyes glistened and you looked away towards the window to wipe them as you sniffled.

“I knew it…” You whispered more to yourself and Alfred urged you.

“Knew what, my lady?”

“That I could count on you.” Your voice was a weak rasp that could be carried away by the wind but he hung on every word. He couldn't wait for the day he could hear your voice as it really was. He could imagine your full laughs and playful jokes clear as day.

You sat on the bed and looked genuinely happy with how soft the duvet was and his heart ached as he watched you be so pleased with a plain guest room. You were entitled to so much more, but you were just glad to be given a room and Alfred could hardly bear it.

“I’m going to get better soon so we can garden together. My mom had a green thumb and I think I do too.” You looked like you were trying not to brag as you texted and Alfred smiled, “It’ll be nice to have a little helper. I’ll prepare your gloves.”

A comfortable silence passed between you before he remembered the saucepan and pots he had simmering on the stove. “I’ll continue preparing dinner, Young Mistress. Please rest and I’ll come get you when it’s ready.” You nodded as he left with a soft click of the door as he took the warmth with him.

It wasn’t even a second before you heard waves crashing in your ears and suddenly the bed felt like it was tilting sideways and you had to grip the sheets to keep from tipping over.

Swoosh, swoosh

You could hear the gale winds from that night and nearly feel the flood's spray misting your face.

It doesn’t waste time, huh?

Dark clouds were looming in the far corner of the room. Yard-long tendrils hung low and limp for now as the house was waiting to feed on you.

Had it been like this in the last life? Everyone in the house, save for the one man who actually met you outside of it, had already disliked you before you even arrived. Was it always the house?

You could hear whispers of the dead with the loudest being the most recent—The drowned and lost.

‘Your problem is with him. Not me.’ You thought, feeling that the energy could reach them.

Tension was building in the back of your head and your temples were beginning to pound. You inhaled deeply and exhaled all of the negative energy you could. You wouldn’t let it in.

You laid back and your muscles immediately relaxed against the mattress that Alfred must’ve replaced before you came. Your thoughts cleared and you tried to organize the facts. Was the miasma and the haunting the cause of everything?

Yes and No. You knew in your bones that a hint of loathing must’ve been in their hearts from the start or it wouldn’t have been so easy for the dead to manipulate them.

It only exacerbated their most negative qualities and the biases they already had against you, and with that realization you knew you couldn’t give them grace.

The haunting needed your misery because feeding off of Bruce wasn’t enough after being a stagnant food source for almost 4 decades and you were the sensitive sacrificial lamb.

You were the survivor who got a billionaire father while countless innocents lost their lives because he couldn’t put one maniac to sleep or get off his high horse.

‘Sins of the father…’

You stared at the ceiling and thought of them all–The members of Bruce’s family who made you ashamed to even be alive. You clasped your hands over your stomach and willed yourself to be strong.

Damian had been the physical one from the beginning. From the kick when you had just arrived, to shoving you against walls, and making you fall flat on your face—something about you tempted the violent nature he overcame in the years before you showed up and he couldn’t resist.

You developed a fear response and could detect when he was near even if he was rooms away.

You recognized his steps, his breathing patterns, and the way the air shifted around him. You were more aware of his presence than your own, and the mere thought of him inspired the most primal fear in you more than the first humans feared the dark.

Maybe it’s because you suspected if he “accidentally” killed you no one would question it. Maybe it’s because if he amped up his cruelty and did something truly criminal, there’d be no justice for you.

He made Wayne Manor a 24/7 battlefield but a hell that was too familiar to escape. If you ran, where would you go? You had no life skills or safety net. There was no place for you in the manor or the outside world.

Damian was the instigator of many shameful memories that’d haunt you in your subconscious but one thing that you’ll never forget for as long as you live was the time with your Nana’s picture.

You had found an old photo of your Nana online that you printed out and kept with you. It was your keepsake and absolute treasure, especially after you’d lost all your possessions in the flood.

When you looked at that picture, you saw someone who looked like you. That photo was an anchor that kept you from completely losing yourself and proof that even though you didn’t belong to this family, you had indeed belonged somewhere.

It was a quiet and good day because you hadn’t seen anyone all day. You had let your guard down and you recall looking back on that moment and hating yourself.

You’d been standing in front of Thomas and Martha Wayne’s portrait and gazing up into Martha’s face while wondering what she had been like. Her eyes were soft but undoubtedly intelligent. She didn’t want for anything, but she didn’t hold on to her wealth with her history or charity. She was truly noblesse oblige.

Her smile made you smile back as you held your Nana’s picture in one hand. ‘I wonder if you two would’ve got along.’ You honestly felt they would’ve hit it off.

You reached forward with your Nana’s picture to tuck it into the picture frame. It was a little 3 by 2 photo that didn’t take any space at all and you weren’t going to leave it there. You just wanted to set the two women near each other so you could look at the resemblance.

Your two grandmothers.

You were so at ease that you didn’t notice Damian had been watching you from down the hall until he stormed at you when he saw you touching the portrait.

You were usually hyper-aware of him but had been lost in the warm feeling that thinking of your two grandmothers had brought and your heart almost jumped into your throat when he burst onto the scene.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone was accusatory and you felt like you’d been caught stealing. He wrenched your wrist and bent it painfully while ripping your Nana’s picture out of your grasp.

He scanned the small photo. “Who’s this?”

“M-my N-Nana.” You didn’t mean to squeak but he scared you and his hold on your wrist had you curling up in pain. If you had to speak anymore, you knew you’d end up blubbering.

“Hm,” He stared down at the photo but something in his eyes changed. The razor blade cruelty won.

“Then she’s nothing.” He dropped the photo and then stomped down and ground it into the floor leaving a shoe print.

“No!” You pulled away and he let go, almost causing you to fall back. You dropped to your knees to recover the picture and he stomped down on your hand. You shrieked and felt knuckles crack and dislocate. Your cries echoed in the hall and he hissed “Stop whining.” as if you were a child throwing a tantrum in the toy aisle.

He took hold of your hair and looked down at you.

“Don’t think that because your whore mother tempted father into bed that you’ll ever be one of us.”

You were struck speechless and felt like you were submerged in ice cold water. You wanted to retort but so many thoughts overwhelmed you at once.

How could anyone say that?

Why would he say that?

What had you done wrong?

You want to defend the two most precious women in your life but words failed you as you doubled over in a panic attack.

“Pathetic.”

He wiped his hands on his pants then turned on his heel and left you there to pick up the pieces.

Over the years, he mellowed out and just ignored your presence. He’d scowl when you were near or exude an aura that said ‘Don’t speak.’ but at least he didn’t attack you like before or ransack your room and rip up your books and anything of personal value.

For a while after you came to the manor and before he decided you were nothing, every book, notebook, sketchbook, or anything else you cherished would be torn apart and left in your room for you to find. He was mocking you. Goading you to tell someone.

He knew no one would listen.

No one believed you or offered to speak to him about it and actually, most everyone (minus Alfred and Jason) thought you were trying to pin your own bad behavior on him, trying to frame him for attention, or were genuinely going crazy and wrecking your own stuff.

He used Titus to intimidate you, and instigated Stephanie to harass you by saying you were talking about her or messing with her things, and she’d always believe him and fly off the handle.

You had tried to clear up the misunderstanding once or twice but you’d overwhelmed with tears and couldn’t speak during these altercations.

In the end, you always looked like the guilty party who could dish it, but couldn’t take it and every case was closed with you as the bad guy.

It was like Stephanie relished in hating you. You were her prey. A way to assert dominance and maintain her place in the family. You were never invited to things and when you were, it was to the wrong location or the wrong time and you always missed it or stood up.

“Y/n! Why didn’t you come? We waited for you.” Her eyes were mocking but her voice was concerned and almost wronged as if you stood her up.

She had a gift for projecting her voice so all could hear her side and assume you were in the wrong. Your voice only shrunk in anxiety, and her manipulation worked every time.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” No the fuck she wasn’t.

“We would’ve invited you, but we didn’t think it was your kind of thing.”

“Why are you always looking so sad, gosh!”

“You’re Bruce Wayne’s daughter. You’d think you’d have something to smile about.”

“You’re like a vacuum that sucks out all the fun in the room.”

You were in social danger any time you were in her sights. Every interaction had to be in front of an audience and she laid into you with no one to intervene. The few times you tried, you were ganged up on for being too sensitive and not getting the joke.

You remember her getting up in your face shouting and you could feel little drops of spit hitting you. You remember that disgusting memory vividly. She was yelling at you to never touch her stuff again but you never did to begin with.

You could see Damian smiling devilishly behind her as she did exactly what he wanted. He was the devil on her shoulder and she was too stupid to see it. Maybe part of her knew but she always bit the bait giddy to have a reason to go off on you.

God, you should’ve popped her in the mouth even if she would’ve beat you up after.

Cassandra was always witness to the social humiliation. She was the toughest in the family, the only one that could best Bruce in combat, but she did nothing to protect the weakest person there.

She watched, she judged, she ignored when you weren’t actively being a victim, and you felt like a ghost.

Sometimes it felt like you were already dead.

Tim got you mentally and Dick got you emotionally. You thought you could be friends with Tim with him being closer in age and sharing similar interests. He got along with everyone so why couldn’t you?

Simple. He was already biased.

After reading up on you and fighting the media circus from the moment you were discovered, he’d seen enough of you for a lifetime and didn’t hide it.

Attempts at conversation were met with withering looks that made the words die in your throat. Questions were met with exaggerated sighs as if you were the most mentally incapable person he had ever met.

When you started homeschooling because your mental health declined, he mocked your course work and why it was hard for you to keep up. “I guess intelligence isn’t hereditary,” Something dark took over in him, “Or this is the best your mom could do.”

He embarrassed you in front of his friends and even made them feel awkward about it. Connor and Bart were disturbed by his behavior, and couldn’t get a real reason from him for why he was acting this way.

“Just ignore her.”

“She’s no one.”

“When is she going to get out of here? Why’s she even around?”

One time, Tim caught you struggling over a very difficult math problem when you felt someone staring at you. You turned to meet his eyes and he said something that killed a part of you that you thought had already died.

“I wish you hadn’t been found.”

His eyes said he meant it.

Dick was apparently physically flawless if you asked anyone. He was considered a true hero, the de-facto leader of any team he joined or at least the most trusted advisor, and countless people and respected heroes trusted him as an equal.

Surely someone as big hearted as him could just treat you like a person, right?

Wrong.

Your weight fluctuated with your mental health and your skin changed too. Stress breakouts and pimples were a common occurrence and your skin was either too oily or too dry at any given time.

His eyes never really saw you, or let you in like a person he accepted. He looked at you like a half finished sketch that the artist had given up on. You weren’t worth finishing, but he figured he’d take pity and steer you in the right direction.

He was so nice like that.

“You know that’s really bad for you.” He would say when you’d grab for anything you could eat quickly as you rushed back to your room.

“You’d look and feel better if you lost some weight, you know?”

“Look at everyone. You’d really benefit from some exercise.”

He pinched at your sides to emphasize his words. “Steph and Cass are so active. Maybe you could workout with them?” As if they’d even let you. If you tried with them they probably wouldn’t go easy on you and you’d be battered in minutes.

Or when you starved? He was proud of you. Of course, now you lost weight in some of the ‘wrong’ places and your hair was thinner and you were even weaker, but you were going in the right direction! Keep it up, Y/n!

He was confused that you didn’t glow like the others. You didn’t look like the others. Damian was so good looking so how were you the awkward step-sibling when you had Wayne blood in your veins? Dick shrugged. Maybe it just skipped a generation.

It had weighed on you.

The misery had been too much to carry and you had attempted to take your life several times during your decade at Wayne Manor.

You smiled wryly. You’d thought you were such a loser that you couldn’t even kill yourself right, but maybe it never worked because there was still goodness in the world that reached out to you when no one else would.

You hadn’t failed. You had been saved.

The faces of those special few crossed your mind, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest and to your belly.

The horrors of the past and the attempts invaded your mind as if to overwhelm you and force you back on that lonesome path to your end, but it couldn’t force you again. Those kind faces and selfless eyes made you smile as tears prickled the corners of your closed eyes.

It all went like this…

❥

You had gotten addicted to exercise and any way to lose weight. Images of Barbara’s and Starfire’s perfect bodies flashed in your eyes whenever you blinked and Dick’s “advice” kept you awake at night. It hadn’t been an attempt, but a consequence of your pain.

You’d been doing exercises on your bedroom floor, going too fast, pushing too hard, when you went into cardiac arrest. You and Alfred don’t know how he did it, but he felt a pain in his own heart when you were having the attack and he nearly flew to your room before he knew it.

He performed first aid and rushed you to bed where he tended to you. He took you to doctor’s appointments and put you in therapy. He managed your diet and watched you like a hawk.

Once again, no one visited.

❥

Tim’s cruelty had become too much for you to bear. It’d been a beautiful spring day and a gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine all the way up to the third floor balcony.

You stood at the railing and a great sadness and bitterness consumed you. Why were you the one pushed to the edge like this? Frustrated tears blurred your vision. Why were you so hated when your only sin was living?

Even now on such a beautiful day you were going to end it all while they were all having fun together.

It wasn’t fair.

You climbed the railing and angled yourself so you’d land on the stone below and without another thought you pushed off and tilted head first.

Bart had watched it all in disbelief from the backyard, and hoped that he was just being dramatic until he saw you climb the railing.

Tim had been prattling on about some new tech thing he was working on while Bart’s body was vibrating with unreleased energy.

‘She won’t…’

She did.

He was racing to you and catching you in his arms in a flash. He caught you just in time before your head was cracked open on the stone patio and your tearful eyes fluttered open and found his petrified face.

His heart was pounding in his throat and his hands felt numb. He had never seen you so up close before. He didn’t even remember the last time you spoke or if you’d ever spoken to each other without Tim interrupting and shooing you away.

His mind was going crazy trying to find you in his memories and he realized he hadn’t been able to make any with you with Tim around. All that came to mind were anxious eyes and an insecure smile before darting away.

You blinked through the tears and a strangled gasp slipped out as your face broke into disappointment, “Why?”

“What?” Bart was dumbstruck. Did you mean why’d he catch you or were you just confused. He hoped it was the latter.

“Why’d you save me?” You cried and Bart stared down at you as you fell apart in his arms.

He didn’t treat Tim the same after that. He tried to tell Tim about your attempt and Tim waved it off as an accident. “She’s crazy.” He’d said and Bart couldn’t let it go.

He felt like he needed to avenge you in some way, but he didn’t know how. It was a family thing, wasn’t it? People always said not to get into other people’s business, especially family matters.

He stopped coming around as much and even Tim realized he was being ghosted but didn’t get why. Bart tried to keep tabs on you when he’d ask Barry to mention you to Batman but nothing ever came of it. Barry knew something was up but was stonewalled hard by Bruce whenever he tried to be a good adult and float the idea that, hey, maybe his daughter needs help.

None of the adults intervened, and he carried that with him and wondered what he could’ve done differently for the rest of his life.

News of your death had hit him personally. He saw it coming. He knew if no one had intervened it would end up like this, but he prayed someone in your family would come around and see the signs if they wouldn’t listen to an outsider like him.

He was too hard on himself. He had been a kid like you were, but he hated himself for not saving you,

He never forgave himself or the batfamily.

❥

It had been a gorgeous winter day and the pond had frozen over into pure crystal. You should’ve been enjoying nature, but you weren’t here for sightseeing.

Damian’s words and actions had gone too far regarding your mother and what made it worse was that no one defended you.

You’d had enough.

You were wary of large bodies of water since the storm, but something about drowning to meet your end seemed right. Like finishing what had been started.

You were numb, almost robotic, as you walked to the middle of the pond, kicked on the ice, and let it swallow you whole. The icy cover slipped back in place seamlessly and it was like you’d never been there at all.

Connor was always aware of you when he came over. Tim dismissed you and you were too afraid to meet Connor’s eye no matter how disarmingly smooth he tried to be with you, but he was still always aware of your presence.

It was like he was unconsciously keeping track of you, something he’d never done for anyone else unless required for a mission. For some reason, due to a completely foreign feeling, he needed to make sure you were there.

He could feel you getting farther away, and used his x-ray vision too look through Tim’s bedroom wall, through the mansion and out in your direction.

His eyes found you immediately and he stilled as he saw your figure getting smaller and smaller as you got further away from the manor and farther into the brush. ‘Where’s she going?’

He half-rose from his chair as dread began to set in and leaned forward as he watched you get farther away and then suddenly your heat signature dropped and disappeared.

He jumped from his chair and bolted out of Tim’s room, clipping doorframes and knocking off wooden panels along the way. Once outside, he took to the sky in the direction you were and found the point where he’d lost you.

His heat vision melted the ice above you and he dove in and dragged you out in seconds. His heart was racing the entire time as he gave CPR like he’d seen in the movies, kicking himself for not knowing how to save someone when he called himself a hero.

What if he didn’t make it in time? What if he wasn’t doing CPR right?

He flew you through the cold and gently lay you in front of the fireplace where his heat vision had it lit and raging instantly. Alfred rushed to gather blankets, but besides that, they were the only two in motion.

Connor realized that he was screaming for someone to help, for Tim to get his ass downstairs. His mind was so loud he couldn't even hear his own screams until he became aware of his throat going hoarse.

Tim ambled downstairs and gazed at your pale, violently shivering and barely conscious self.

“What’s the big deal? She fell.”

Connor looked Tim in the eyes for a hint of a joke or just a simple tale of Tim putting his foot in his mouth once again but Connor’s heart plummeted when he saw that the man he called a friend was dead serious.

‘What the fuck is wrong with these people?’

There’s a shouting match after that, but Tim didn’t understand what the problem was. Y/n fell in the pond, and of course she’d be out there all alone because she’s dumb and just wants attention.

Connor saw red and it all happened so fast. He may have hit Tim, and he may have gone on a minor rampage in the manor before storming out to never return again.

And that was the end of their friendship.

Connor would fly as far away from the manor as possible but close enough to see you using his x-ray vision. Sometimes he’d just watch you all night just to know you were still there. Just to know you were still alive.

Metas were barred from Gotham and when Batman and the others found out about Connor’s bodyguarding, they ramped up anti aerial measures that forced Connor to stay farther away until he couldn’t enter Gotham airspace at all.

The one night he slacked off on watching you was the one night he lost you.

❥

Jon had been over and innocently passed by the lounge when he heard Stephanie yelling in your face, “Don’t touch my shit again!” Her voice was shriller than he had ever heard from her even when yelling at bad guys, and you were as quiet as a mouse with wide glassy eyes. Even a naive boy could tell that this was unfair.

He peeked inside and saw Damian grinning like he was watching his favorite show. “She falls for it every time.” Jon didn’t know if he was talking about you or Stephanie as he frowned in confusion.

His brows knitted together and his face burned hot when he saw your mouth trembling and heard you choking to speak.

“Get Bruce to buy it for you. Why do you always take my stuff?”

“Maybe that’s how she always was.” Damian offered from the background, gleefully fueling the fire.

Jon snapped.

He wasn’t sure what was going on but he knew this was wrong. His inner sense of justice told him so.

“Leave her alone!”

Damian startled beside him, not expecting the outburst and the sheer force the shout gave out, and Stephanie leaped up and whirled around with wide eyes like she had been caught in an embarrassing moment.

“W-Wha-, you were there?” Jon ignored her question and marched forward, “What are you doing?” He puffed up his small chest, his fists balled.

“W-well, she took my thing…” She was suddenly slightly aware of how immature this seemed, but pride wouldn’t let her give in.

Jon was younger than her, but stared up at her like she was a simple child. “Did you see her do it?”

Stephanie and Damian held their breaths.

“No, but Damian said—”

Jon turned around to his friend, “Did you see her do it?”

Damian sneered indignantly, “And if I said yes?” Jon stared at Damian like he was seeing his true self for the first time.

Had he been mistaken about his friend’s character this whole time?

“Th-thank you.” You choked out pathetically to Jon and hurried from the room.

It was a screaming match between Jon and Damian and Stephanie that shook the walls, and even though Damian was one to always get the last word, Jon’s voice shook pictures from their hooks and threatened to knock over priceless art unless he composed himself.

He had to calm himself down because he had a feeling the more he fought with them, the harder it’d be for you later. He knew that he could leave and go back to his safe warm home, but you had to stay here with them.

He didn’t want to leave you in a worse position than he found you. Clenching his fists and screwing his eyes shut tightly, he counted to 10 like his dad had showed him.

Maybe it was something Kryptonians shared because just like Connor, Jon couldn't let this go as he felt a grudge forming for you. Jon stalked away from the argument with no answers or guilt from the people who harassed you, one of which he’d called a “friend,” and he wanted to see you one last time before he left.

He pushed open what he thought was your bedroom door and anything he wanted to say died in his throat as only a pitiful “Y/n.” tumbled out.

His voice had been so small then, and it came clearly through the eerie silence that surrounded you in your room. You had fashioned a noose and hung it over a low hanging beam and Jon had walked in on you standing in place. He knew what it was for.

“Don’t do it.”

Your eyes were red and glassy. They begged for help but they wanted even more to not cause some innocent kid distress. You tore down the noose and tossed it to the dirty clothes hamper. “I wasn’t, I promise.”

He didn’t believe you, but he wasn’t prepared for a situation like this. What would his dad do? It finally hit him how young and inexperienced he was, and he felt like a sorry excuse for a hero.

“I’ll be okay.” You hurriedly tried to rub the snot from your nose and rushed to grab tissues and move the stool away. “Thank you for saving me, Jon.”

He thought back to that altercation in the lounge and thought it didn’t count. “I didn’t save you.” He said more bitterly than he intended.

He didn’t make anything better! The people who hurt you didn’t care and he had even misjudged someone he thought was a friend this whole time!

You looked over at him, “Yes, you did, Jon. You saved me twice.”

Jon’s chin quivered and he was too ashamed to cry in front of you. He never visited Damian again and after hearing about the insanity at Wayne Manor and Superman himself trying to talk to Bruce, the relationship between the Supers and Bats was never the same.

Your death caused a rift between the two families. Superman treated Batman like a coworker and stopped acquiescing to his eccentricities.

He went toe to toe with the Bat and didn’t back down on many things.

Connor and Jon focused on Metropolis and growing into men you could be proud of.

They’d never forget the one they didn’t save.

❥

You hadn’t had him the first 16 years of your life and you’d thought you outgrew needing a father. You didn’t know him, and didn’t want him so why did it hurt so much when he obviously didn’t care about you.

Why was one child loved and the other wasn’t? Was it because of your mother? He loved Damian’s and not yours? Damian was blue blooded and you were a statistic?

You did it the old-fashioned way in the tub and Jason and Titus were the ones who found you.

It’s funny that the dog that put you on edge was the first to notice something was up. .

He’d never attacked you, he was a good boy and unlike dogs bred for fighting and assault you knew he didn’t have bloodlust, but he intimidated you with his sharp knowing eyes.

However, contrary to his master’s wishes and the evil dead that surrounded you, he couldn’t hate you. He saw the spirits of beloved pets floating around and following after you and he knew you were a good human with a loving heart.

He wanted to get near but the malicious energy concentrated around you knew he could see them and that put him in danger. So, he steered clear of you and watched the tendrils and the dead that hated you for surviving from a safe distance.

He was the only one who could see what you were going through, but couldn’t do a thing about it. Who could he tell?

And things remained like that until one evening he felt a shift. The walls were groaning and the wind howled but as always he was the only one who could hear it. His tail went straight up and his hackles raised.

Something was wrong with you.

Titus bolted for Jason, one of the few humans he could sense had good feelings towards you, and took bit down on his ankle and tugged hard.

“Titus! What the hell?” Jason pulled back but Titus dragged him clean out of his chair and to the ground. The dog dragged Jason a little more to make sure he got his point across and then dropped Jason’s leg.

Titus rushed to the door and turned back to Jason expectantly, barking when Jason wasn’t getting up fast enough.

“What kind of Scooby-Doo bullshit is this?” Jason mused as he pulled himself to his feet and chased after the anxious dog, his blood going cold as he realized he was heading to your room.

Something in him knew what this could be about.

‘No. Please, no!’

Titus ran towards a door and barked and scratched desperately. Jason was close behind, almost overtaking the dog and broke the door down with a shoulder charge. It sounded like a bomb went off as the wood split and splintered, sending its remains scattering across the tiled floor.

There you were.

Your eyes were closed.

“No, no! Y/n, why would you?” He knew why, actually. He’d always had a feeling that there was a darkness you shouldered that was even darker and deeper than he knew, but he just assumed he had more time!

More time to come around and finally talk to you, more time to work his way into your life and get you out of the manor. Why did he take it all for granted? Why did he, like everyone else, take you for granted?

He hauled your soaking wet body out of the bath and to a room nearest to the front of the house all the while screaming his head off.

“Help! Alfred! Someone fucking help!”

Alfred stitched you up and treated you in the med bay, and Jason fought Bruce in a way he never did even when he first came back as the Red Hood.

Walls collapsed, bones were broken, and several had to jump in to try to separate the two but none were strong enough to end the struggle.

It finally ended when Jason realized he wanted to kill Bruce, and he almost succeeded.

He withdrew when he realized it’d feel so good to kill Bruce for you.

After that, Red Hood and Jason Todd officially broke away from Bruce Wayne and Batman. It was like Jason had died a second time as a quiet gloom was once again cast over Bruce’s life, but he wouldn’t acknowledge his failure. He wouldn’t acknowledge that he had any fault in your attempt or that that was the reason Jason would never forgive him.

The one time Jason came back to try to build a bridge to cross over to you, was the night you ended your life in front of him.

He thought he had more time.

Your eyes flew open and you inhaled a shuttering breath that struggled down your throat. Your lungs felt like they had been shriveled up and you turned your head over the side of the bed to throw up water. Where had it come from?

You coughed while wiping the tears from your eyes and looked up to see long tendrils like thick black hair reaching out and surrounding you from all sides. It was like you were a juicy fly entangled in a web and the widow was creeping closer and closer knowing that you had nowhere to run.

It should've scared you.

It pissed you off.

"You motherfucker!" You reached out and took hold of the black mass with both hands.

With two unbandaged arms and weaving scars that healed over the course of 10 years.

You didn't waste time wondering why you were an inch or two taller or why you felt stronger than ever before. You didn't take notice of the clothes that were far sexier and fantastic than your wildest dreams.

All you could feel was the raw hatred you had been holding on to for 10 long years as golden chains shimmered and wrapped around the writhing black mass that struggled in your hold. The moment a chain touched the mass, it sizzled and popped like bacon touching hot grease.

The mass let loose a horrific shriek from a nonexistent mouth like several pigs being slaughtered at once and your eardrums felt like they'd popped. It writhed desperately as the chains from your scars tightened and squeezed around it.

It shook in your grasp but you held tight and wouldn't be knocked from your feet.

"Go to hell!"

The chains clenched tighter until the mass was eviscerated into nothingness.

Your bedroom shook and you could hear the walls and inner beams shifting around you as other entities cried in horror and retreated farther into the mansion and away from you.

Your clenched fists shook as you caught your breath.

You ran your tongue alone a pointed canine and smiled salaciously.

Then, you looked up and saw your reflection in the plain vanity mirror. The 26 year old you who you had never seen so radiant and powerful before stared right back and winked.

❥ Tag list~

@kore-of-the-underworld @simpingpandas @delusiontown-exe @ottjhe @therealme13posts @yuezodiaco @fernwehraarta @crispybelieverworld @c4xcocoa @alishii @linasrosetown @oxt3n @omgfangirlland @nxdxsworld @chaoticmoontimetravel @marmalemon @rythespy @sassam @bellethesleepypotato @oliviaewl @lovebug-apple @sydneyyyya @pearlyribbons @nirvanaxx1942 @teabutnerdy @mourart7 @galaxypurplerose @holderoflostmemories @aelxr @magdalenacarmila @romancedeldiablo @addieverse18 @dirtydiavolo @ironsaladwitch @1nfinity-void @llikeballs @bit-subway @celesteelysia @kksmush @plsfckmedxddy @dannyisdying @inkdelicious @candyluck05 @mazixxss @wonderlace19 @lilithskywalker @eyeless-kun @treeeeeeefrog @yandere-enthusiast @soriansick @dumpsterdiverinc @ecto-800-1 @the-bookish-artist @ghostxmio @crunchycereals @hopingtocleaemedschool @cheshire-kitsune @rovcarmen

#yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #ty.writes #yandere dc #yandere jason todd #AND NOW WE'RE DONE WITH THE SAD PART #I'M TRYING TO GET TO HORKNEE HRS TYVM

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greglunvik · 1 month ago

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Drama In The Family: A Legacy Challenge

So...@hauntedtrait and I created a legacy challenge! This was in the works for a year & now its FINALLY here. We wanted to play through a legacy that has some sort of drama involved because...who doesn't like to torment their sims with some drama!? We've tried to incorporate relationship, friendship & family drama into this challenge. There are currently 7 gens to play through and maybe in the future we'll add more gens.

here is the google doc with the full guide. Use the tag #DITFlegacy if you plan on playing! Would love to see everyones gameplay!

Under the cut is the first gen of the legacy, but you can check everything out fully in the link above~

Guidelines

Firstly and most importantly: have fun! The challenge guidelines are just that, they are not a strict rule set you absolutely must follow no matter what, feel free to change things around as you see fit. If it works for you, then it’s right.

This challenge was created with all packs and some mods in mind to enhance gameplay, but do not let that stop you, adapt as needed.

Wanna cheat the game, feel free to cheat, who are we to stop you! (That said you miiight have more fun if you don’t — unless you absolutely need to)

Some gens are meant to be played immediately after the one listed above it, but the overall order isn’t absolute and you’re welcome to change it around. The only hard rule is that the White Picket Fence MUST be the founding generation.

For each generation multiple traits, skills, careers and aspiration options will be presented to you. We recommend picking 2 or 3 of the suggested traits, and the third (or more, if you use the 5 traits mod) is up to you, and 3 or more skills. It’s also up to you which aspiration(s) you complete, as long as you complete at least one from the list!

Reaching career level 10 is not required unless specified.

Each gen starts at the young adult life stage.

Suggestions

Medium and long lifespans will offer more time and opportunities to fully experience all aspects of this legacy challenge, but if you prefer to play on short you are more than welcome to.

Utilize gameplay from L&D and Growing Together if you have them to give each generation more depth, like Wills, Bucket List, Heirlooms and Keepsake boxes.

If you have the Businesses & Hobbies expansion and like that kind of gameplay, you could use a Small Business in place of the career option to make it more immersive (ie. if the career is lawyer, you could make a law firm small business)

Generation One: White Picket Fence

You come from a very traditional household and always imagined yourself following the same path as your parents: marrying your high school sweetheart, having three kids together and living in the perfect white picket fence home. Unfortunately, things have not turned out that way so far – there was no childhood sweetheart and your apartment is far from perfect. You start university, but you find yourself struggling to stay on track. You work odd jobs and part time to make ends meet while you try to figure it out. At this point in your life, you’re actually not sure if everything you’ve always dreamed of having is what you really wanted.

Career: Any

Aspirations: Any

Traits (Pick 2-3): Hates Children, Self-Absorbed, Romantically Reserved (or Unflirty if you do not have the Lovestruck pack), Non-Committal, Lazy.

Skills (Pick 3 or more): Charisma, Logic, Writing, Knitting, Pottery,

Goals

Start in a small apartment or still living with your family. Cheat or use SNB bank mod to give your sim 2000 simoleons or less.

Work odd jobs or part time until you get pregnant/get someone pregnant from a one night stand or short relationship.

Shotgun wedding! Marry the first sim you get pregnant with during the pregnancy. Bonus points: your spouse must have a conflicting trait with one or more of yours.

Once married, move into a fixer upper home and renovate as family funds grow, doing the nursery first of course.

Start your career, you can’t keep up a family of three and a house on gig work after all.

At some point, have an affair with a coworker.

Situations

College Cram: Finals are almost here and… you’re not prepared at all. Truth is, you’re beyond stressed and unsure if you’re cut out for this kind of thing.

Option A: You decide it’s worth pushing through and getting this done. You’re nearing the finish line, just one more semester, you can make it work, so you pull some all-nighters and ignore the looming dread, successfully getting your degree.

Option B: The struggle is too real and you can’t deny it anymore: college isn’t for you. Your parents are disappointed and you’re not sure what you’ll do about career prospects, but you just had to get out. You drop out of college and try a different path in life than the one you chose when you were 18.

The Affair: You’ve been seeing your coworker for some time now… and your spouse finds out.

Option A: Despite your mistake, your partner forgives you, and you both promise to work to mend this relationship, after all, the kids don’t deserve the difficulties of a divorce. Unfortunately, you remain unable to stay away from your coworker… so you get better at hiding it.

Option B: This is it, the end of the line. Your partner will never see past what you’ve done. Divorce is filed, it is not amicable, but it is fair, each one gets half, and custody is split evenly, with the kids spending equal time with each parent.

Extras/Optional

Live and bicker with a roommate while living in the apartment.

Despite what the description implies, you don’t HAVE to go to uni and work at the same time.

Also feel free to cheat for university if you’re not a fan of that kind of gameplay.

Your spouse must have a conflicting trait with one or more of yours.

Your coworker must have great compatibility with you.

Make your sims parents and siblings, if they’re still alive!

Have more than one kid, maybe even one with your lover?

#sims legacy challenge #sims 4 legacy challenge #ts4 legacy challenge #sims 4 legacy

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dreamerdoodles · 21 days ago

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so I've been playing a LOT of visual novel demos

you know, since they STILL haven't fixed Date Everything on switch (sobs). but I thought I'd give them all a shoutout because damn these games are GOOD, the indie dev scene is killing it. these are in no particular order, I loved all of them :3

Our Life: Beginnings and Always by @gb-patch

I'm late to this party, of course. it's not even a demo!! it's a whole entire game that you can play FOR FREE with optional paid DLC!! it's a beautiful, heartwarming experience about growing up over multiple summers during your life with the boy who moves in across the street. the art is beautiful, the amount of choices and character customization is staggering, and the way you can truly be yourself without worrying about "messing up" and getting a bad ending has honestly spoiled me. Cove is my beloved, I love him so much.

2. Our Life: Now and Forever

the sequel to OLBA! the demo has a ton of content already and I heard they're updating it with even more later this year?? all my love to the absolute madlads over at gb patch. like the first game, it's about growing up, but it's autumn (my favorite season!!) and there are TWO leads to fall in love with or befriend or if you're a monster hold at a distance and stay only neighbors for your entire life. I'm only judging you a little I promise. it seems like the game will be everything I loved about OLBA and more!! I can already tell the full game is going to be 10/10

3. Touchstarved by @redspringstudio

trust one of five monstrous strangers as you try to find a cure for your curse... maybe fall in love, maybe they'll kill you, maybe you both die tragically?? this was actually the first one I found when I was looking for things that my stupid very old very weak not-even-technically-a-laptop can run, and it did not disappoint! it's VERY different from the two games above, as it is a dark romance, so just make sure you read the content warnings and take care of yourself first. the art is absolutely delicious, all 5 love interests are intriguing (Ais is my favorite so far), and I can't wait to see how the full game shapes out in the future.

4. OBSCURA by @rottenraccoons

not a curse this time, nope, you're actively dying of a super rare disease! how fun! you still gotta trust one of four people you definitely shouldn't, though, in a masked market underground where theoretically one can acquire anything. this game is honestly even darker than Touchstarved, so DEFINITELY read the content warnings first. but the game has a really awesome safe word system for you to nope out if things get too much! the demo covers the first chapter of all 4 love interests' routes, which is amazing, and there's more in paid early access, but I haven't played that yet, so I can't review it. the LIs and the story are what shine the most in OBSCURA in my opinion. each LI is unique and has a very fun dynamic with the MC, who is definitely not a blank slate and has a pretty defined personality (they are, as Keir my beloved says, "mouthy") but that works in this particular game's favor. you can still self insert if you want, or maybe I just have the superpower to self insert into anything haha. I'm so invested in the story that I'm even trying to avoid spoilers until I have the money to buy the game, so it definitely hooked me!!

5. Alaris by @crescencestudio

the world is in trouble, old lore about dragons and fae is stirring, and somehow you, a healer, is caught up in all of it. I. love. fantasy!!!! Kuna'a, Fenir, and Aisa were cooked in a lab to appeal to me, specifically. and there's 3 more love interests too who also all managed to win me over??? amazing. I loved the free time date feature and I haven't even played through all the possibilities yet. there's a lot! the demo covers the common route and I can't wait to see what happens next!

6. Intertwine by @crescencestudio

can I just say VAN MY BELOVEDDDD I just discovered this game tonight and played through it in one sitting. I devour stories about soulmates and past lives and this game did not disappoint!! it's short and sweet and you should go play it right this second actually go go go

7. Threads of You: Beyond the Bay by @lavendeerstudios

your car breaks down and you get stranded in the middle of nowhere, but don't worry, seven (7!!!!!) pretty boys are here to keep you company. this demo is a bit shorter than some of the others in this post but it's very fun!! I love the little character creator, it's the most adorable thing I've ever seen. also, it doesn't come up in the demo, but I'm VERY interested in the part of the game description that says "Maybe you want more than one partner or want to see them with each other?" because if I can create an 8 person polycule I am absolutely going to >:3 LOVE ME AND LOVE EACH OTHER PLS

8. Keyframes by @blank-house

what if Our Life, but college?? I say as the highest of compliments. it's a slice of life that starts with the spring semester of your second year, and I think it's planned to go all the way to graduation eventually, which is incredible and insane and I absolutely can't wait (except I will wait and be very patient actually <3). I LOVE slow burn romances and this game seems like it's gearing up to give me the tastiest slow burn of all time. the art is beautiful and charming and has SO much character, the characters themselves are so well written, and there's a ton of replayability with possible events and the order you do them in! I haven't even done them all yet and I'm in love. in love with Jamie Porter, specifically, despite my best efforts. damn you pretty boy!!

9. Lost in Limbo by @ravenstargames

a ritual sends you to another world ruled by seven deities. seven hot deities. I'm going to chase Envy around Limbo until they let me love them and NO ONE CAN STOP ME. ahem. the demo covers the common route and sets up an intriguing story! it seems like each route is going to be very unique from the others and each LI will have a different dynamic with the MC, so there should be something for everyone! also the art. THE ART. THE ARTTTTTT the sprites are beautiful and the backgrounds are INCREDIBLE I want to eat them?? they're partially animated and the lighting is so cool and colorful and they're just masterful honestly.

and that wraps up my list for now!! I've had so much fun with these and I can't wait to see all the full games eventually. hopefully I will have money for all of them (and maybe a proper laptop sobs). if I can beat my depression into submission long enough I'm going to draw fanart for all of them uwaaaaa

#our life beginnings always #our life now and forever #touchstarved vn #obscura vn #alaris vn #intertwine vn #threads of you: beyond the bay #keyframes vn #lost in limbo

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penkura · 4 months ago

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where you belong [5/10]

Summary: As Luffy's big sister, you've viewed it to be your job to see him become King of the Pirates in place of your absent parents, even as you try to find where it is you belong in the world. You never really expected to draw the attention of Trafalgar Law in the process.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, typical One Piece stuff.

Note: Ahh I finally got this out. <3 <3 I hope you'll all enjoy it, I know it might seem like it jumps around a bit, but I wanted to bring Law back in quickly and had a little moment later I needed to do. Next chapter may take me a bit again since its Dressrosa you know, but we'll get there! :)

Note 2: Punk Hazard my beloved. <3 One of my top arcs.

Taglist:

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4]

The morning you’ve dreaded finally arrives and you wish, somehow, it was a dream. The whole two years you wish were nothing more than you dreaming as you slept, not because you regret them but because you don’t want to leave the Heart Pirates.

You don’t want to leave Law, but you know its time to return to your actual crew and to Luffy. Part of you wants Law to refuse to let you leave, though you know that’s not him. Even with your relationship he doesn’t want you to feel like you’re not allowed to do what you want, or live your own life. He'd never keep you tied down somewhere you didn’t want to be, despite his wish for you to stay with him.

You can call, its already in your plans to do so as often as you can. You think Luffy will be excited for you, he may reveal your relationship by accident since you know he can’t keep his mouth shut half the time, it’d be easier if Sabo were around. He’d have been able to keep a secret for you.

He and Ace would both be happy for you too, you’re sure of that.

You don’t want to get up out of bed, instead spending several minutes just watching Law sleep, you’re really not ready to leave him most of all. It’s not fair that your life is the way it is, that you’re on opposing crews and that you need to stay with Luffy still. You wonder if Luffy might tell you that you should’ve stayed, maybe this is where you’re meant to be, but you don’t want to dwell on that for now.

We’ll see each other again, I know we will…but we might be—

“Would you stop thinking so loudly? It’s still early.”

You’re startled when you hear Law speak, but you smile anyway once you realize he’s been awake and just letting you stare at him as you think. He probably hasn’t been awake that long, but just long enough that your moving around before settling to watch him woke him up after all.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to know you’ve been staring at me,” Law opens one eye to look at you, seeing your smile before he smirks a bit, “you pervert.”

“Hey!! It’s not my fault you slept without a shirt!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Law pulls you close to him and makes you laugh while he kisses the top of your head, closing his eyes again with a smile you don’t see, “It’s 5am, go back to sleep. We won’t reach Sabaody for a while longer.”

Agreeing, you nod and giggle a bit, snuggling up against his side and making yourself comfortable again. Any thoughts you had about what may come next when you meet up again are gone, you’re not worrying about any of it anymore. Law somehow makes all your worries and fears about the future disappear, he probably doesn’t even realize it.

Law’s noticed more in the last few weeks that you do the same for him, he’s not as freaked out or worried when you tell him you love him anymore. It’s started calming him more and more, he’s not scared he’ll lose you for that now, he feels better about it.

You don’t fall back asleep right away, Law hears you humming as you start to trace his chest tattoo. You’re probably wide awake now, but he knows you still need to sleep, you’re going to have a long day probably. Meeting up with your crew again, with Luffy again, is going to be a lot knowing they’ll all want to get going right away to your next destination.

He still wishes you’d decide to stay.

“…I’ll miss you.”

Taking a breath, Law sighs a bit before nodding, kissing your head again to comfort you.

“Go back to sleep, it’s going to be a long day for you.”

“Mm…yeah, okay.”

You eventually fall back asleep but Law doesn’t, he stays awake to have a little bit longer with you, even if you’re not awake to talk with him or anything. He just needs a bit more time with you, that’s all Law wants right now, though his time is limited to just a few hours more.

If only he had more time with you, just a few days even, it would be enough. A few more weeks would be preferable, but all you have are a couple more hours before he returns you to Luffy and the rest of your crew, to your family. He won’t push anymore, or tell you again that you can stay, not this time.

“I think I’ll miss you more…”

Next time though, he hopes you’ll stay.

+!+

None of the Heart Pirates want you to leave that morning, once every one is awake and breakfast has been finished. You arrive at Sabaody an hour or so later, and it’s taking everything in you not to drop your bags and stay with them. Ikkaku and Bepo are both near tears when they hug you goodbye, Penguin and Shachi aren’t but you hear their voices crack a bit, and everyone else is either teary or fighting to keep their tears back when they all bid you farewell.

It’s not forever, you don’t think you could ever stay away from this group, but you’re not sure when you’ll see them again.

“I’ll be back once I’ve dropped her off, then we’re leaving, got it?”

While they all nod with another shouted goodbye to you and some cries to keep in contact, Law sighs and rolls his eyes as you laugh, taking his hand as he leads you along.

“Your crew is still lively.”

“They’re all being so dramatic.”

He says that, yet holds your hand tighter, making you smile sadly knowing he feels the same heartbreak the rest of them do, though on a deeper scale.

“We’ll all see each other again, I know Ikkaku won’t leave me without a few calls.”

“She definitely won’t.”

Law doesn’t want to do this small talk business while he takes you as far as he can, he’d rather have the quiet and savor every second of being with you. If there was a long way around, he’d go that way, but he’s only taking you part of the way to the Sunny anyway, so it wouldn’t matter. He just wants to spend as much time with you as he can before you’re apart for a while.

You’re able to delay your departure by distracting Law and dragging him through the shops, just to look around, but you know he’s anxious about leaving you. He's probably worried you’re going to get yourself into trouble before you meet up with your crew again, he just wants you to stay safe.

It kind of makes you happy to know he cares so much about you.

“Come here for a second.” You’re nearly to the point Law had planned to let you go when he pulls you to a more secluded area between a couple of shops.

“What—”

“I have something for you.”

Confused, you tilt your head a bit while Law hands over what he has for you, and it makes you smile a bit when you take the small piece of paper from him.

“It’s your vivre card?”

“Yes. I want you to keep it with you.”

It makes you think about Ace, how he’d given you and Luffy pieces of his own vivre card, how you watched it disappear into ash in your hands. Law made you get your own after you started dating, you giving him the first piece off it and only giving another to Ikkaku just to be safe and because you trusted both of them.

You already knew Law trusts you, but this proves it even more.

He does start to feel awful little awkward and nervous about it, when you don’t say anything for a moment, before giving him a tight hug that he very quickly returns.

“Thank you for trusting me…”

“You already knew that I do.” Law rolls his eyes while you nod, before you look up at him still smiling.

“I’ll miss you, don’t make me have to stare at your card and worry about you.”

“Wouldn’t dare think of it.”

You laugh, causing Law to smile and he’s about to speak again before you lean up and kiss him, hugging him one more time before you start to run off to the Sunny.

“Hey--!”

“Love you!! See you later, Law!”

You’re too far away for him to say anything else, Law feels the sudden loneliness start to creep in, he wanted a couple minutes more with you. He wanted the chance to tell you a few more things, and he knows he can call you, but it won’t be the same. If he’s going to tell that he loves you back, Law wants it to be in person, at the right time.

So maybe that’s not today, but he’s certain you’ll meet up and see each other again. If it all goes to plan, you’ll see each other sooner rather than later. For now, he's got to get back to his own crew, they’re all waiting for him so they can head off to the next destination.

I love you too…I’ll tell you as soon as I can.

You feel bad for running off from Law without giving him a chance to say anything else or goodbye to you, but it was starting to make you emotional and you had to just go. You were close to crying and telling him you wanted to stay, because you do, but you still feel like where you belong right now is with Luffy and everyone else.

It was all too much, your feelings were getting the best of you, and you didn’t want to start crying in front of Law, even though he’s seen you cry several times now. You just didn’t want him to try and convince you to stay, because you would have. You would have dropped all your plans and stayed with him, but it’s not the right time yet.

Next time, maybe…

You’ll definitely think about it next time you’re with Law and if he asks you to go with him, but for now, you’re excited to see the Sunny and who all has already arrived there. Luffy isn’t around but you’re not surprised, Nami squeals when she sees you, running over and giving you a big hug that makes you laugh. She and Robin both talk to you for a while after you’ve seen everyone else there so far, Brook and Franky compliment your outfit and Usopp is happy to see you too, though it feels like everyone is acting a bit oddly to you and it makes you wonder why before Nami speaks up.

“Are you doing okay? You look sad…”

Tilting your head, the look Nami gives you eventually makes sense. They’re all wondering how you fared after Ace’s death, not wanting to outright ask but hoping you were okay the last two years. It’s still a sore subject, even Law doesn’t bring it up unless you do first, and even that’s rare because it does still cause you heartache.

You sigh lightly, but nod.

“I’m okay. Luffy and I were together for a few weeks before he went to his training and I left for mine, but we’re both all right,” you give everyone a bright smile, making them all relax but Nami still looks skeptical, “So don’t worry, you guys! Luffy and I are both fine, I’m anxious to see him again!”

While everyone starts to talk to you more happily, Nami keeps wanting to pull you to the side and talk to you, she can tell there’s something you’re not saying, and she wants to be the one to know. She expects it must be about Ace, but knows you well enough that it just might not be and you’re keeping some kind of secret. Even as everyone else talks to you, as you’re trying to get to the women’s bunks to drop off your bag, Nami grabs you by the arm and starts to lead you away.

“Come on, let’s go drop your stuff of and then you can tell us everything you did the last two years!”

You laugh but know Nami wants all the information first, whatever it might be, and it makes you slightly nervous that she’s going to figure everything out or that you’re going to just start talking and let your relationship slip by accident. You’ll have to bite your tongue but by the time you think of how to word things you’re in the girl’s room and Nami has the door shut right away, giving you a smirk.

“So…have a good two years?”

“Yeah,” you shrug while you set your bag on your bed, sitting there yourself but not opening it yet, “I stuck around Amazon Lily like Luffy did for a bit, left on my own to get some training in and work on my poisons. Nothing that weird.”

“Uh-huh sure,” the way she rolls her eyes tells you that Nami doesn’t believe you, especially as she looks from your bag to you, “That’s why you have that yellow hoodie, right? Wonder where I’ve seen that before…”

Your eyes widen, head snapping to your bag and seeing that’s it not exactly fully closed. You grab it and hold it tight against you, zipping it up and swearing at yourself for letting it be open like that without even noticing until Nami brought it up just now. Law didn’t even say anything, your bag must’ve opened on its own while you were walking and you just completely missed it.

“I…I don’t—”

“So that’s what you did the last two years!” She’s practically squealing over it as Nami comes over and sits beside you, making you open your bag again and prove she’s right that it’s the hoodie Law was wearing two years ago, “Did Luffy know?? Are you guys dating?? Come on, tell me everything!”

You try to fight against her pushing but Nami won’t let you go until you tell her every detail of the last two years so you give in with a sigh and explain what all happened. How you properly met Law and his crew, how Luffy threw you to them as they were leaving Amazon Lily, how your feelings for the rival captain grew and developed into the relationship you have now with him. She’s completely invested in your story and can’t believe how quickly you ended up getting under his skin enough to get Law to start dating you, that he came to have the same feelings for you in what felt like no time, though you keep a few things to yourself. She doesn’t need to know everything right now, but you tell Nami enough that she smiles when you’re finished.

“Can’t believe you, abandoning us for that hot rival captain.”

“Nami, I’m not abandoning you guys,” you roll your eyes as she laughs, watching you get up to start putting your things away and hiding the hoodie in the back of your drawers, “I’m staying here, Luffy needs me and I have a place here with you all.”

“Did Law not want you to stay?”

“I mean, yeah but—”

“Then you should have! Luffy would’ve understood!”

You shake your head, making Nami tilt hers because she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get why you’d come back to the Straw Hats when you’re so obviously in love with Law and he wanted you to stay with him. She knows Luffy is very understanding and always tells you, specifically, to do what you want; you’re a pirate too and should live your life the way you want to! It always causes you to laugh and nod, saying you will once you’ve seen him fulfill his dream, though Luffy normally huffs and pouts after that, telling you that’s too far away and you deserve to live how you want to live. You’ve heard it from Nami and Robin, sometimes Sanji too, all saying you should listen to your brother and do as you please, you never give much of a response apart from you are doing as you please, it just so happens you’re following alongside Luffy right now.

None of them believe you, but they don’t push anything more about it, thinking you’re just not ready to let go of Luffy even though you’re both adults now and you seem to be moving on more.

But maybe you aren’t, with how you reject any attempt to remove yourself from your crew and Luffy, even if it would be to stay with Law.

“Not now, I’m going to stay with Luffy until he tells me to leave.”

“Ugh, he’s never gonna do that and you’ll never get to have your romance with Law…”

You laugh at that, shaking your head again and returning your bed once you’ve put everything you brought with you away.

“It’ll be fine, Nami. Law and I have a plan to call and talk, I’m sure we’ll run into them one day.”

“Lame! How am I supposed to live vicariously through you if there’s nothing going on??”

The two of you talk and laugh for a bit longer, before you leave your room to join everyone else and wait for Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Chopper to get there so you can take off again.

You’re anxious to see Luffy and tell him your good news, hopefully Nami’s reaction is a good sign and Luffy will be happy for you too.

“Really?! You and Traffy are—!”

“Shh!!!” You slap your hand over Luffy’s mouth, before he can shout anything else, giving him a little glare, “Quiet, Luffy! I don’t want everyone else to know yet!”

He nods quickly, mostly so you’ll take your hand off his face, but gives you a big grin once you do so. He just knew you and Law had something there, he didn’t know what it was back then when he threw you to him, but he’s glad that he did now.

Even Luffy has seen that you needed to find more for yourself, you’ve lived your life mostly to take care of him and now to keep Sabo’s dream alive, so it’s about time you found something, someone for yourself. You deserve to live your own life, not one dependent on him or the rest of your crew, whatever you wanted to do is what Luffy has hoped you’d find ever since you two set out from Foosha.

Of course he appreciates you staying with him through everything, but if you ever chose to leave Luffy would understand. He wouldn’t stop you from living your own life, so he is a bit confused why you came back to everyone here instead of staying with Law.

“I didn’t think you and Traffy would start dating,” Luffy laughs while you roll your eyes, looking a bit embarrassed over the whole thing, “but that’s cool! You should’ve stayed with him!”

“Nah,” Shaking your head, you almost laugh at the pout Luffy gives you, “Law let me leave because I wanted to come back to you guys, he wasn’t going to kidnap me, you know.”

Of course he isn’t suggesting that, but Luffy sticks his tongue out at you before you give him a hug that he returns. You won’t tell him for a while that you did want to stay, that you wish you would have, but that you missed your brother too much to do so right now. Luffy is happy for you to have found and fallen for Law, he thinks it’s something good for you and he can’t wait to run into him again one day and see how you two interact. He’d seen it at Amazon Lily, obviously, but that was before your feelings developed into anything outside of gratefulness that he’d saved Luffy, it’s not a surprise that your feelings grew over the two years you spent with him and crew.

“Now, listen to me, Luffy,” when you pull away from the hug he tilts his head as bit, “You can’t tell anyone else, okay? Law and I want this kept between us, his two crewmates that know, and you…and Nami now, I guess, since she found out.”

“Oh yeah, of course!” Luffy giggles and bit with a nod which makes you smile. “I won’t tell anyone, but you gotta tell them when you guys decide to!”

“Yeah, I know Luffy, don’t worry. We won’t keep it a secret forever.”

“I wonder what grandpa will think about it.”

Luffy laughs loudly when the color drains from your face, having forgotten about the fact you’ll have to tell Garp at some point, or he’ll find out on his own somehow. Word moves fast these days and once your relationship is out there you know he’s going to hear and come looking for you probably, demanding to know why you started dating not only a pirate but a Warlord as well.

It makes you wonder how things would be if Dragon were around. Maybe he’d be happy for you like Luffy is, but maybe he’d be annoyed at the fact that his daughter was dating someone. Forget the age gap, it’s not even that big a deal since you’re both adults, if Dragon were here and acted as your father, maybe he’d be overprotective since you’re his only daughter.

“Okay!” Luffy jumps up off your bed, keeping a smile on his face, “Let’s get going to the Fishman Island!!”

It makes you laugh, shaking your head to get rid of the worries and other thoughts that were starting to take over your mind. You follow him out of your room, ready to get moving again.

Dwelling on things that won’t happen isn’t good for you, Law would probably tell you that if he were here.

You hope you get to see him again soon.

+!+

“Oh!! It’s you!” Luffy sees Law before you do, turning to you with a large grin and pointing that way. “Look, its Traffy!!”

Your excitement at seeing Law on Punk Hazard doesn’t go unnoticed by Robin. She’d briefly heard you back on Sabaody two years ago tell Nami you thought the rival captain was attractive, but didn’t think too much of it. She truly believed it was a fleeting crush, but with how you lit up seeing him, grabbing onto to Luffy when he went to jump down in front of the Heart Pirate captain, she wonders if she’s wrong.

“Good to see you again, Traffy!” Luffy grins and laughs a bit, looking over at you, “Thanks for everything two years ago! And for taking care of my sister!”

“Yeah,” Law nods just a bit, glancing over to you before back to your brother, “She was pretty helpful.”

“Hope you haven’t had to use any of the antidotes yet, Trafalgar.”

He flinches slightly, almost invisible to anyone else, hearing you call him by his last name. He understands why you’re doing that, because he believes you haven’t told Luffy yet, but it still makes him think back to when you were getting to know him and his crew, when you fought after you had protected him. It makes him feel like you’re regressing in your relationship, but the slight smirk you have tells him all is well, you’re just keeping up appearances.

“No, not yet. Hopefully we won’t ever need them.”

Before you can say anything more, you’re alerted to the Marines behind Law, Tashigi attempting to attack him before he pulls a trick you remember seeing before, and you hear Luffy tell your boyfriend he wants to ask him something.

“Go to the back of the lab, you’ll find what you’re after,” Law glances to you again, fighting a smile at seeing you tilt your head alongside Luffy, you two are very alike still, “We’ll meet again later.”

He's gone before you can say anything else, and Luffy grabs you to bring you back up to Brownbeard’s back, guiding him the way Law said to go.

Robin gives you a smile, making you tilt your head again, wondering what she’s thinking about.

“Excited to see Trafalgar again?”

Your eyes widen a bit, you feel your face heating up, but you shake your head quickly.

“N-No! Just…I’m just grateful to him for helping Luffy, that’s all.”

“Hmm…all right then.”

She definitely doesn’t believe you, especially when you look back as you leave, smiling to yourself slightly.

“You’re not gonna betray us, are you?”

“No.”

Luffy grins at Robin as you laugh, impressed how quickly this alliance came together but of course, you expected it both with Luffy’s unfailing trust in others and Law’s plans in mind, the ones he barely let you in on for your own safety and in case nothing came to fruition. Your small group listed to Law and turned to the back of the lab, finding the rest of your crew, their bodies swapped and everyone else being confused before you gave an explanation.

“Oh, that was probably because of Trafalgar then.” Of course it was, you’d seen him do that to Penguin and Shachi more than once as punishment for pranks gone wrong. It made you laugh then but now it’s more of a concern since you don’t know where Law is at the moment to fix it.

Though you realize you should’ve kept your mouth shut as everyone but Luffy and Nami (in Franky’s body at the moment), gives you a strange look as they’re all thinking the same question, how on earth do you know that?

“How do you know that?” Zoro is the first to ask, raising an eyebrow when you cover your mouth lightly and glance away.

“U-um, well—”

“She hung out with Traffy for the last two years!” Luffy laughs with a smile and patting you on the back, you hadn’t expected him to just say it like that, “After he helped me get away from the Marines, I told her to go with him until we all met up again!”

It's enough to placate every one, no one asks anything more except how to fix this mess, though all you can tell them is Law has to fix it.

And he does fix it, the best he can, though it leaves Nami temporarily in Sanji’s body as he’d gone off with Zoro and Brook to keep the Samurai from killing himself in his search for his torso. It's still a funny situation, Law tells Nami he can only put her back once her body returns, you do feel bad but it's not like anything can be done about it right this moment.

While the rest of your crew tries to decide who’s going to do what next in attempts to help the children get home to their families and also enact Law’s plans, you grab him by the sleeve and quiet drag him away from everyone, to a more secluded area. Law doesn’t even fight you, he just follows along, knowing whatever you need from him will be brief so your crewmates don’t get suspicious about anything.

He absolutely expected the tight hug you give him, returning it without a second to waste as your bury your face in his coat.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You’re both almost silent but your feelings are visible to each other, with how you tighten your arms around him and Law gently rubs your back, really hoping you don’t start crying and make the others think he was mean or rude to you, he’d never be like that though. Even if you barely knew each other right now, he’s sure he couldn’t do anything to make you upset.

There was just something about you from the very beginning that made him believe he could never hurt you.

“I didn’t think you’d be here still!” You look up at Law with a smile, “I thought you’d be back with everyone else already!”

“Well,” giving you a small smile, Law brushes your hair out of your face to see you better, “Things changed. I didn’t think you’d all make it here though.”

“Luffy heard a distress call and decided we had to come here,” rolling your eyes makes Law laugh lightly, before you lay your head against his chest again, “but I’m glad he did now.”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods and pats your head a bit, making you laugh. Law really is glad to see you again so soon, he thought it’d be weeks more before you even ran into each other, hoping it would be on friendly terms and the way Luffy has acted so far tells him it would have been. He figures you must’ve told him by now, maybe that’s part of why Luffy was so easy to convince for this alliance, but it’s also more likely he thought it would be fun and a way to pay Law back for saving him two years ago.

Either way, he’s happy you’re here, having someone familiar after being here alone is preferable, even with the plans to leave quickly with Caesar in tow. He hopes that all works out the way he wants, this alliance has multiple benefits now since he gets to be with you again.

“Hey, I told Luffy about us,” your smile relaxes Law, but he looks a bit nervous about whatever you may say next, “He’s really happy about it, he thinks I should’ve stayed with you though.”

“You should have,” sighing a bit Law nods as you roll your eyes, still smiling, before he sets his forehead against yours own, “but I still won’t make you until you want to.”

“Thank you,” you lean up and kiss him briefly, stepping back a bit after, “I love you.”

“I—”

“Heeeey, [Y/N], Traffy!! Where’d you go??”

You both jump hearing Luffy but it makes you laugh with a small sigh, glad it was him and not anyone else who might find out your relationship too early. Nodding, you take Law’s hand and start leading him back, he wishes you had more time alone though. There might be a chance later, once you’ve left Punk Hazard, but with your crew around it’s going to be hard for you two to get a few minutes by yourselves.

“Sorry! We were just catching up real quick!”

Robin sees the very light blush on Law’s face as he nods, causing her to smile to herself, especially when she sees you have a hold of his hand. You let go as soon as you’re back with everyone, Luffy trying to explain to Law that he’s going to have to help the kids that Caesar had captured, help people in general now, you want to laugh at his face because he’s not used to doing that.

It all makes Robin wonder what happened during the two years to cause you and Law to become so close, if you have something you’re keeping from everyone or not.

Either way, you decide to stay with Nami (in Sanji’s body now) and Usopp to watch the children, making her believe that it isn’t anything that big or important, but she could be wrong. You could be faking indifference for all she knows, maybe you’ll say something later.

Who knows, for now you all have bigger things to worry about.

+!+

You don’t get Law get too far away after you’ve completed his plan of capturing Caesar and Nami’s plan of helping the children, your plan now is to help him with his own wounds instead of leaving him to do so alone, in return you expect him to help you like he always does. It’s after he’s removed the drugs from the kids’ systems, Chopper had run to you all shouting that Law was a murderer, taking your hand and leading you to the room he’d been in where Law explains what he was doing but you give him a look and poke him in the shoulder a few times while your doctor runs to the children.

“Don’t scare Chopper like that! He’s still a child!”

“He's a doctor too,” Law rolls his eyes as you stick your tongue out at him, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know that but Chopper doesn’t yet, Law.”

He shrugs a bit, wincing slightly which makes you frown. You knew he’d been injured but weren’t sure how bad it was, he’s probably going to tell you it’s nothing and to not worry about it.

But Law knows you better than he’ll admit, so when he sees the look on your face he sighs, nodding at you as you take his hand and leading him off again, somewhere else on the Sunny and making him sit down once he has his coat off.

“You worry too much.”

“Hey, I lost a brother two years ago, I’m going to take care of the people I love, got it?”

Your smile makes Law roll his eyes again, but in a more playful way as he takes his shirt off so you can check his back. He already knows there’s bruising, but thinks you’ll calm down if you see that yourself. Its not as bad as you were expecting, luckily, but still makes you a bit nervous to see it. You’re used to this with Luffy but for some reason it feels different with Law.

“Nothing to worry about, see? Just some bruising.”

“Yeah but still.”

He does get it, somewhat, but Law doesn’t argue with you anymore about it, he knows it won’t help anything. He lets you put a salve that Chopper gave you on the bruises, whether he believes it’ll work or not is irrelevant, it gives you peace of mind and that’s what matters to him right now. Once you’re done and he puts his shirt back on, you lean over and kiss his cheek, giving a smile.

“Thank you for helping those kids. I know Nami appreciates it.”

“I’m a doctor, its my job.”

“Yes but you’re also a pirate, my love,” the smile doesn’t leave your face even when Law glances away from you, “They reminded you of yourself when you a kid, didn’t they?”

“…yeah. A little.”

“Aww, can’t wait for the world to find out what a big softy the Surgeon of Death is.”

“You tell anyone and this relationship is over, you hear?”

You laugh as Law pinches your cheek with a smile on his face, he’s only joking but he’s happy to see your smile and hear you laugh. It's only been a few weeks but he’s missed you so much, it’s nice to have a few moments with you. Once he lets your cheek go Law kisses you, letting you lay your head against his chest after you pull away, hugging you close. You’re both listening just in case someone comes by so you can part and keep your secret, but you really don’t want to let go of him anytime soon.

“We’re going to Dressrosa next…”

“Mm, I know.”

Your hugging him isn’t helping Law think straight when he needs to bring up something to you about this whole plan he has, he needs you ready in case something happens, just to be safe.

“Look,” Law has to stop and think of how to word it, while you do look up at him, “I…if anything happens to me, I wan—”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

“[Y/N]-ya—”

“No, nothing is going to happen to you.”

You push off him but Law takes your wrist to keep you from running off. It’s not a pleasant topic, but you need to be prepared. You need to know what he’s expecting with all of this, he doesn’t want you to be in the same state you were after losing Ace.

He doesn’t want it to be because of him this time.

“[Y/N]-ya, listen to me,” it almost breaks his heart to see you looking away from him, not wanting to look him in the eye because you don’t want to think about this, “I don’t expect to make it out of this, so I…”

No, not now.

“…I need you to stay with your crewmates that’ll be watching your ship. I need you to go on to Zou when we’re done in Dressrosa and meet with my crew, all right?”

You bite your lip before shaking your head, hiding your face in his shirt and tightening your hold on him. You don’t want to think about this when you just got to see each other again, even though you do understand his reasoning. He wants you prepared just in case, if his expectations pan out and he doesn’t make it back to you, back to his crew, he wants you safe at the very least.

But you hate the idea, hate the thought of losing Law like you did Ace, not being there and able to stop it. Not getting the chance with Law to have a future together, you want to live your life with him for as long as you can, it can’t end in just a few days.

You’ve not even been together for a year, it isn’t fair that you have to think about this right now.

“Nothing will happen, you’re not leaving your crew or me.”

“But if—”

“Law, no,” you grip his shirt tighter while Law starts to stroke your hair, hoping to keep you calm, “Nothing is going to happen, you’re going to drop off Caesar and then come back, and we’ll go to Zou together.”

It becomes quiet, Law doesn’t want to say anything to upset you more, instead simply nodding. You need to settle down before you go back outside to everyone, he doesn’t want anybody to think there’s any animosity between the two of you, though it would be a good cover for your relationship right now.

As soon as you’ve calmed down, you both agree to drop the conversation for now. You join your crew, the Marines, and the children again for the food Sanji’s made and Law keeps a close watch on you from afar. You seem to be more relaxed as you eat and laugh with Nami and Robin, enjoying yourself despite the coming trials in Dressrosa. If there’s the chance later, before you get there, he still wants to try and get you emotionally prepared in case something happens, he doesn’t want you to be unprepared and end up struggling as badly as you did after Ace died.

Law does love you, even though he hasn’t had the chance to tell you just yet.

If he’s lucky once again, he’ll tell you after everything in Dressrosa is settled. Once Doflamingo and his past with him isn’t looming over his life, maybe you’ll be able to enjoy your relationship better.

+!+

After you’ve left Punk Hazard, Law explains the basic gist of his plan to everyone on your crew, you don’t say much since you don’t want to dwell on what he was trying to talk to you about earlier. It’s part of you withdraw from him during the day, not wanting to show your worry in front of your crewmates.

You keep to yourself most of the day and eventually come to terms with what Law was trying to explain to you earlier. He wasn’t trying to scare you, but he wants you to be ready if something happens. You still hate the thought and don’t want to think about it too much more, so you take yourself to the kitchen to hang out with Sanji after everyone else has gone to bed.

Law comes into the kitchen later that night, while you and Sanji still up just having a nice discussion, you trying to help him decide on something for breakfast when you see your boyfriend and give him a friendly smile. You still have to keep up appearances, pretend you aren’t together when you aren’t with Luffy or Nami. He seats himself quietly beside you, laying his head on the table and tries his best to be sneaky at grabbing your hand that’s resting on your knee under the table, squeezing your fingers gently. Sanji, though he doesn’t see Law holding your hand, gives the slightest glare to your temporary ally for interrupting the two of you.

“Can we help you, Traffy?”

Shaking his head, Law doesn’t respond for a moment, just enjoying being near you without all of your crewmates around.

“I can’t sleep in that room.”

“What?” You snort a bit, laughing at how serious he seems, “The boys room? What’s wrong with it?”

“Your brother sounds like a truck coming through the wall. The sniper and doctor sleep talk. Brook-ya and Franky-ya were both loud coming in, Zoro-ya is the only one that’s quiet.”

You try not to laugh at your boyfriend’s plight when all he wants to do is sleep, even as Sanji mumbles outs “now you know how I feel”, you simply squeeze Law’s fingers in return, running your thumb over his knuckles briefly.

“Hmm…we could probably turn the aquarium into a temporary bedroom for you, Trafalgar. Don’t you think, Sanji~?”

The sweet little tone you add to your voice makes Sanji’s eyes turn to hearts, nodding in agreement as he stands and quickly offers to get a couple pillows and blankets to put in there, tell you not to worry about it and he’ll have it ready in a jiffy as he runs out. Law can’t believe that’s all it took to bend your crew’s chef to your whim, and he leans back in his seat with a sigh before looking at your smiling face.

“Thanks.”

“Of course~ Sanji’s willing to do anything for a woman, just gotta use my charms to get him to do it.”

“Charms, huh?” You nod while a smirk quirks it’s way onto Law’s face, “Why haven’t I seen these alleged charms?”

“You wound me!” Throwing your hands to your chest, you fall forward to the table, Law chuckling lightly at your reaction. “I knew it was just the sex that kept you interested in me.”

“Oh please, I wouldn’t be with you still if I didn’t—"

He stops before he can say too much more, making you raise an eyebrow when you look at him, your face flushing at the thought of what he might’ve been about to say. This isn’t the right place or time for a love confession, for him to say it for the first time, and you both recognize that.

You’re about to respond when Sanji finally comes back, still heart eyed at you as he says the aquarium is ready, you and Law making sure to push away any feelings or thoughts until later. You thank Sanji as you stand and take Law by the wrist, wishing your crewmate a goodnight while you lead Law to the aquarium. Neither of you speak during your walk, but you double check for any other awake crewmates before lacing your fingers with his for the rest of your walk. You don’t miss how he squeezes your hand again.

“It should stay quiet in here,” you lay out a blanket for Law on one of the couches, smiling when he finally relaxes laid out on it, kicking off his shoes and setting his hat on one of the end tables, “Even if Robin comes down to read, she’ll be quiet.”

“Thank you, again.” Your grin makes Law smile softly at you.

“Of course! I’ll be in the kitchen if yo—”

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?”

Law grabs your wrist before you get to far and pulls you down on top of him, making you yelp slightly and your face flush once again. You’re lucky none of your crewmates are around, especially as Law wraps his arms around your waist, giving you a smirk while you look at the doorway and back to him nervously.

“Trafalgar! You can’t, we can’t—”

“I’ve barely been around you all day, I just want a few minutes with you,” Law’s brow furrows a bit as he threads his fingers in your hair, “I don’t like hearing you call me by my last name again.”

“Want me to call you Traffy while you’re with us?”

“Hell no.”

You giggle before slipping your arms around his shoulders, leaning in and setting your forehead against his, kissing him briefly before pulling away with a smile.

“All right then, Law.”

“That’s more like it.”

You swear he’d purr if he could, Law pulling you back for another kiss, holding it longer.

“Again.”

“Law.”

He barely gives you time to catch your breath before he kisses you again, until you push him away gently.

“I love you, Law.”

“I—”

“Oh I see, sorry for interrupting.”

You both freeze at the third voice, you quickly pushing up on Law’s chest to see Robin looking at you both with a knowing smile, before your poor boyfriend starts wheezing from how hard you’ve shoved yourself up on him, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“R-Robin!! We just, we were,” when you hear Law wheeze again and put his hand on your shoulder, you feel bad as you sit back on his legs, “Oh, Law, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s--It’s fine.”

Robin watches while you fuss over Law, making sure he’s okay as he just shakes his head when you apologize again once he finally gets his breath back. She continues to smile once you two quiet down, the three of you in an awkward silence while you feel your face burning and Law’s cheeks are dusted pink, before she laughs lightly.

“I suppose I owe Nami money then.”

“…what?”

“We made a small bet that you two were either already together or would hook up, and I suppose she’s won.”

You groan a bit, dropping your head to Law’s chest in embarrassment over your crewmates betting on your love life. You assume that bet was made before you told Nami and Luffy about your relationship, otherwise Nami had an unfair upper hand that you’ll have to inform Robin of later.

As she goes to leave, you call for Robin while keeping your head in Law’s chest as he pats your head to comfort you.

“Could you…keep this a secret? We don’t want it out there with everyone yet.”

Robin nods, though neither of you can see it, still smiling.

“Of course. Your secret is safe with me as long as you need it to be.”

“Thank you.”

Once Robin finally leaves the two of you, you let out a heavy sigh and fall backwards on the couch. You really thought you had more time before Robin might come in to read, not that she’d come down when you were in a compromising position with your fairly secret boyfriend.

“I’m sorry, Law.”

“What for exactly?”

“What just happened obviously,” you groan and put your hands over your face, not even noticing Law moving to be over you, “Now that’s three of my crewmates along with Penguin and Ikkaku …”

“Hey.”

“What?”

Law removes your hands from your face before kissing you again, instantly calming you down from the slightly panicked and concerned thoughts you have about the new situation. That’s enough to make you almost forget that Robin walked in on your intimate moment, even though you hadn’t gotten much farther than a few kisses, especially so once Law kisses your forehead and trails down your face to your neck, making you giggle.

“Oh, I should warn you.”

“Hmm?”

“We’re having sandwiches in the morning.”

“And…that’s a turn off.”

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #where you belong #fem!reader #reader insert #ITS HERE WHOOOOO

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wisecura · 8 months ago

Text

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1 ⁭ ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.2

AN: this is still being edited and I'm not entirely sure if it'll be everyone's cup of tea. it'll be a slow burn, and a long fic but I have an idea laid out! each chapter will be around 3k just to keep things spaced and easy. Thank you for reading!

warnings: i'm putting these here for future chapters too, and ill sprinkle some in as I go. I want to make it clear, there is no underage sex, but later on there will be some more raunchy shit. this is somewhat non-canon compliant-make it up as I go

-ok for the real warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build. I'm already 20,000 words into this shit so if your ready lets ride.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

Lets Begin

Your arranged marriage with Toji Fushiguro had been quick and unexpected.

The black sheep of the Zenin clan wasn’t exactly known for his well-rounded reputation, teetering on the edge of severing all ties to his family at any given moment.

He hadn’t been in contact with them for years, and financial support on their end was nonexistent. He was constantly broke, especially after Megumi was born. He assumed it was retaliation for marrying outside the clan—without their approval. But when his late wife passed, he had already taken on her surname, somewhat severing himself from the dingey clan he had once called "family."

After her death, he picked up side gigs, earning just enough to provide for the two of them. Megumi was older now, around thirteen, which made it easier to leave him alone for longer periods. Toji often took days-long "business" trips.

He’ll admit he wasn’t a great father, but he had kept his promise of keeping Megumi away from the Zenin clan and that sorcerer bullshit.

That was until he received an official notification from the Zenin clan head.

He hadn’t heard from the bastard in years, only to be met with a request—a demand—for his compliance in an arranged marriage. Initially, he planned to refuse. He wasn’t interested in an arranged marriage, wanted nothing to do with the sorcerer world, and even less to do with the Zenin clan. Hell, the only reason he bothered showing up at the clan house that day was to set that fucker straight.

Then he saw you—a pretty little thing. You couldn’t have been more than ten years younger than him, likely just turning seventeen, maybe eighteen. He couldn’t say for sure. But you were just too young for this shit—he knew that much.

They’d already brought you along for the proposal, as if they knew it would change his mind when he saw you. And, fuck, if they weren’t right.

You were beautiful. Polished and respectable. Speaking in low tones like the proper little housewife he was sure they’d trained you to be. He could see the endgame here—the reasoning behind pushing this arrangement on him. It wasn’t subtle.

The higher-ups likely wanted a presence in his home—someone to keep tabs on him and Megumi, no doubt. They hadn’t explicitly stated as much, but Toji had caught whispers through the grapevine about their interest in his son’s cursed technique. And with his own tendency to remain elusive, (and with all the whispers of him being titled a Sorcerer Killer) it wasn’t surprising that they’d want to keep a closer watch on him, too.

The thought of them using someone barely older than Megumi to achieve their goals left a bitter taste in his mouth. The arrangement reeked of manipulation—a calculated ploy to plant a spy in his home, someone to funnel information back to your clan, his clan, and the higher-ups.

Toji didn’t give a rats ass about his reputation, but it was clear they were fishing for confirmation. Likely hoping to uncover all of the unconfirmed truths. No matter how much he tried to brush it off, the whole setup just didn’t sit right with him.

But when he caught the way your eyes stayed steady, unwavering. You looked nearly indifferent to the situation, but he could tell this wasn’t what you wanted. It couldn’t be. You were really just a child. And yet, that dead expression of yours sealed the deal.

He accepted.

Another mouth to feed, another brat to deal with, no doubt. But maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to help keep Megumi in line while he was out working. Better that than leaving you to the wolves. He understood the clan system all too well—how they saw their women, how they treated them.

He’d seen how young brides were shuffled like pawns, in a game of chess. Paired with whichever man could best serve the clan’s interests. The thought of you being handed off to another pathetic bastard made his stomach churn. At least here, under his roof, you wouldn’t have to endure that.

Call it generosity if you wanted. But if he were honest, it wasn’t that. You reminded him of his late wife—the fearlessness bordering on defiance in your eyes. The sheer willpower it must’ve taken to show up in the first place. Most girls in your situation would have cried or begged, pleading not to marry some old geezer, especially one as infamous in the community.

But you didn’t beg. Didn’t cry. You just stood there, composed, unshaken. Bored. You could’ve been out shopping for groceries.

He could respect that.

And like that, the black sheep of the Zenin clan would become your husband. Your family. And your sole protector.

He remembers the quiet way you stepped into his apartment for the first time, your gaze sweeping the room with a calm, measured air. There was no hesitation, no unease—just a quiet assessment of the space, as though you were cataloging everything in that sharp mind of yours.

The look on your face didn’t match someone your age. You carried the weight of forced maturity, a burden that stirred old painful memories he immediately shoved back down.

He could tell you were judging, though you didn’t say anything out loud. It was in the faint crease of your brow, the almost imperceptible way your lips tightened. It sparked a flicker of irritation in him, the kind he couldn’t entirely shake. If you didn’t like it, you didn’t have to stay, yeah?

But, color him surprised, you didn’t say a word. You’d easily found your way to his bedroom, setting your things down, navigating the house easily. Then, as if you’d been living there for years, you got straight to work.

No requests, no questions—just quiet purpose.

It was like you’d already claimed your space, like you’d accepted the role handed to you without a second thought. He wasn't necessarily gonna ask you to do all that, but hell he sure as hell wasn't going to complain.

Your former clan had trained you well. He could see it in the efficiency of your movements, the way you moved through the apartment as though it were second nature. No questions asked, no instructions, no unnecessary chatter. Just straight down to business.

Toji didn’t linger.

He slipped out quietly, already lost in his thoughts about the job he had to handle. He’d be gone for two days—maybe one, if he played his cards right. Not that he needed to tell you. You didn’t need to know the details. You were here to stay put, to take care of things while he was gone. Simple as that.

As he rounded the corner outside the apartment, that nagging feeling crept in—a vague itch at the back of his mind, like he was forgetting something.

He paused mid-step, frowning as he patted his pockets. Wallet? Keys? No, he had those.

His smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly shrugged it off, muttering under his breath, "Can't be that important."

Megumi had taken the long way home today.

Several boys in his class had been pissing him off to no end, and he’d been itching to punch something. He needed a distraction—something to cool him off. He really couldn’t afford to get into another fight. The pitying looks his teachers gave him felt degrading, especially when Toji never bothered to show to pick him up.

The long way home was scenic, at least. Trees and plants lined the path, offering some peace as he trudged along. He wasn’t sure whether Toji would even be home when he arrived. He never really knew for certain.

And honestly, Megumi wasn’t in the mood to hear his dad’s loud TV shows or his obnoxious phone calls. If he wasn’t, then the apartment would just be empty, cold, and silent.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

What Megumi really cared about was dinner.

The fridge had been empty for weeks, and his deadbeat dad hadn’t bothered to restock it. Megumi had been scraping by, finding ways to earn enough cash for food. Sometimes he’d deliver things for the neighbors or help them with spring cleaning. Those odd jobs usually kept him going, but lately, there hadn’t been any requests. The lack of work only adding to his frustration.

He didn’t interact with Toji much. Their relationship walked a thin line between hatred and indifference. Most of the time, Megumi ignored his father, as much as Toji seemed to ignore him. On the rare occasions Toji remembered Megumi existed, it always ended in chaos—loud arguments, dismissive grunts, relentless teasing, or worse, painfully awkward attempts to act like a parent.

It had been that way ever since Megumi turned eleven. And today, more than anything, he was just hungry. Too hungry to fight with his absentee father, even if he was home. Too tired to care.

Walking up the stairs to his apartment, something caught his eye. The kitchen window was open. That stopped him in his tracks.

Toji wasn’t the kind of guy to leave windows open, even in decent weather—a weird thing to notice, but Megumi was always acutely aware of his surroundings, always attuned to his father’s patterns.

Megumi made his way inside, creeping slowly and so, so quietly. Peeking around the corner, he froze.

Someone was in the kitchen—a girl. No, a woman?

Your back was to him as you worked at the counter, slicing onions with quick, precise movements. He blinked, his sharp eyes narrowing. You were young—maybe just a few years older than him.

Younger than Toji’s usual type, that was for sure. You didn’t fit. Toji wasn’t a stranger to bringing women around the apartment, but they never looked like you. And they never lingered. Most were gone by breakfast, hurrying out with an awkward smile and a strained “bye” when they spotted Megumi at the table.

He watched you chop onions, noticing the glint of a ring on your finger. So, you were married—

“You can come out from there, y’know.”

Megumi flinched slightly, caught off guard. For a brief moment, he felt the sting of embarrassment—spying and getting caught really wasn’t a good look—but he quickly reminded himself this was his home.

He had no reason to feel embarrassed. Straightening his posture, he stepped out from behind the doorway, his sharp eyes fixed on you as you casually wiped your hands on a towel.

You turned to face him, a soft smile playing on your lips. The first thing he noticed was how pretty you were.

Tall and poised, you stood at least a head above him, dressed in modest, traditional clothing that seemed entirely out of place in this shabby apartment. There was something elegant about you, a kind of refinement that felt worlds away from the usual sleaziness of his father’s one-night stands.

“Who are you? Why’re you here?” His tone came out sharper than he intended. Unintentionally huffy and childish, and it made him pause a second.

You studied him for a moment, and for some reason his scowl almost endearing. You introduce yourself and explain, simply, that you lived here.

Megumi’s brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms, his voice ever defiant, no doubt pushed from the shitty day he just had. “You don’t live here. Leave.”

The attempt at a threat would’ve been more intimidating if his stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to growl, easily breaking the tension. You bit back a laugh, quickly covering your mouth, but it was hard not to find the situation amusing.

The way he stood there, furrowed brow and stubborn glare, reminded you of a fussy kitten—all bristling fur and misplaced bravado. It was clear he wasn’t used to strangers lingering in his space, and his defensiveness only made him seem all the more adorable. Still, he was being serious—you really shouldn’t laugh.

He looked so much like Toji—same sharp features, same brooding energy—minus the flat hair and scar. You’d heard about him before coming here, mentioned briefly by your clan head, but the reality of meeting him was something different. He was much cuter than you’d expected, truly embodying the “fussy kitty” vibe, and you had to resist the urge to tease him outright.

“Ah,” lightly, your tone as soothing as you could make it without giggling, “but I’m in the middle of cooking. Why don’t we eat first, and then we can talk?”

Your tone was gentle, your smile genuine, and Megumi couldn’t sense any malice from you. Besides, whatever you were making smelled incredible, and his stomach had been growling from the moment he walked in.

His gaze shifted to the counter, where ingredients and half-prepped dishes were laid out. He hesitated. Sure, his dad had brought women home before, but none of them ever bothered to cook—especially not for him. Against his better judgment, he gave a small, reluctant nod.

And before long, the two of you were sitting at the kitchen table, three plates set neatly in front of you. It was late, but you still held onto the idea that Toji might come home. You made light conversation with Megumi, trying to get a feel for the boy you now understood to be your stepson.

You’d been briefed by your clan about Toji and his son—vague instructions to “watch Toji” and “get on his son's good side.” They hadn’t been specific about why, but their motives were never selfless. Still, you had no intention of playing those games. Not fully.

What you wanted was to build an honest connection with your new family, especially with this grumpy, sharp-eyed boy who seemed to have a chip on his shoulder as big as his father’s. It’s the first time you’d really been away from the clan estate, so this was just really nice.

As the meal went on, you began to learn little things about him. He remained distant, of course, his responses clipped and matter-of-fact—but the warmth of a good meal and your gentle smile seemed to soften him, if just slightly. You managed to coax his name out of him, and though he said it without much fanfare, it felt like a small victory.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

It was a Friday night, and you figured Megumi would be around the house tomorrow. As you finished the surprisingly comfortable dinner, your eyes lingered on the third, untouched plate at the table—Toji’s. You wondered, briefly, if he’d show up at all.

“He probably won’t be back tonight,” Megumi said, breaking your train of thought. His voice was matter-of-fact, as if he had long since grown used to this routine. He shoveled another spoonful of food into his mouth before adding, “Probably be gone for a few days.”

This surprised you, sure, but you weren’t going to complain anytime soon. As long as you didn’t have to go back to that horrid clan house, you could put up with a missing husband. In fact, you kind of preferred it this way.

You laughed softly at Megumi’s puffed-up cheeks, causing his ears to dust red as he swallowed quickly. Your constant smiles still seemed to throw him off guard.

The conversation flowed easily—a mix of lighthearted bickering and probing questions on both ends. Megumi was really curious about the random woman that showed up in his home.

“What’s the ring for?” he asked suddenly, his sharp gaze flicking to your hand. His tone was casual, but there was an underlying curiosity, as if he hadn’t noticed the simple band until now.

Your fingers instinctively twisted the warm metal as you glanced down at it, the question catching you off guard.

“Ah, well, I’ve just married,” you replied softly, your voice carrying a faint melancholy despite your attempt to sound neutral. Your eyes zone out as you stare at the heavy band.

“It’s still new…An arrangement by my family.” You hadn’t meant to let that slip, but the truth clung to the edges of your words. Quickly, you smiled, avoiding a damper on the evening. You quickly reached over to ladle another spoonful of food onto Megumi’s empty plate.

“Arranged marriage? With who?” he asked, the concept not foreign but undeniably unsettling. You seemed like such a nice person, except for the fact that you were sitting in his kitchen—someone he’d assumed was just another one of his father’s passing flings.

But unlike the others, you’d cooked for him and his father, cleaned the kitchen till it looked better than it had in weeks. And now you were sitting down to dinner with him, as if you had nothing else you’d rather be doing.

Though he’d only known you for a few hours, he didn’t think you’d be the type to cheat on your husband or worm your way into their lives without cause. Maybe that was just his full stomach talking.

His mind caught up to him, the pieces falling into place.

“…Not…Toji. Right?” His voice faltered, and you couldn’t help but think how strange it was to hear him refer to his father by his first name.

You let out a soft laugh at his shocked expression, restraining yourself from patting his head, before nodding your own. “The one and only,”

The look on his face was comical—brows raised high, his mouth slightly agape. But beneath the initial surprise, there was something darker—an unease that settled into the lines of his frown. Wary, guarded. He didn’t like this, not one bit.

After dinner, you sent Megumi off to bed, tidying up the plates left behind. He didn’t wait for you to finish cleaning, retreating to his room with his thoughts spinning.

As he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop replaying the conversation in his head. His father was married—to you, of all people. Supposedly. And for some reason, that knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth.

It was weird. Megumi had left the house empty and returned to find you. If what you were saying was true, you were about to take over as his stepmother. He wouldn’t put it past his shitty father to pop up suddenly married—it was exactly the kind of thing Toji would do.

Still, the whole situation didn’t sit right with him. An arranged marriage wasn’t out of the question. You seemed way too sweet and proper to have chosen someone like Toji, willingly. Megumi’s knowledge of clan life, hierarchy, or how arranged marriages worked in the sorcerer world, was frustratingly limited thanks to his father’s insistence on keeping him far removed from all of it.

Then there was your age. You were young—too young for his dad. Closer to his age than Toji’s. Was Toji an even bigger pervert than he originally thought? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to settle down. What was this about, then? Did he just want a housemaid? Someone to clean up after him and Megumi while he went off on his “business trips”?

It didn’t seem fair to you. What were you getting out of this arrangement? You did say your family set it up…but what could have possibly led you to agree to marry someone like Toji?

The more Megumi thought about it, the more wrong it all felt. You seemed too kind, too proper, too... normal for this situation. Surely there was more to the story. Were you being forced into this? Did you have your own reasons that you weren’t sharing?

But then again, there was always the chance you were lying.

People lied all the time. You could be some psycho ex-girlfriend worming your way back into his father’s life. Or worse, a manipulative stranger with motives that had nothing to do with Toji at all. Maybe you’d rob the place blind, and by the time he woke up there’d be nothing left.

You might’ve seemed nice now, but Megumi wasn’t about to take anything at face value.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall, his thoughts racing. He didn’t know what to make of you, couldn’t figure out whether to trust the calm sincerity you projected or to see it for what it might be: a well-crafted facade.

One thing was certain—he wasn’t going to let his guard down so easily.

He’d just have to wait it out, keep an eye on you, and see what happened when Toji finally dragged his ass back home.

p.2?

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

come home

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wanderingcritter · 10 months ago

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Friendly reminder to never EVER let losers on the internet convince you that alterhumanity is wrong or will never be accepted by general society.

I went to my city's local renaissance faire earlier this week and I had genuinely such an incredible experience. I went with my tail, theta delta necklace, and mask (which I may post here once Im fully done with it lol) gear and received so many compliments. Not only that but I saw and talked to quite a few other alterhumans, like at least 10 and that was after only being there for 1 of the 2 days for less than 2 hours. Also please keep in mind that this was by no means a large ren faire (at least compared to others in the region) and the area I live in is very mixed in terms of progressiveness. But at one point I was walking past some vendors and an older lady running one of the booths exclaimed how much she liked my mask and asked to take a picture of it, and explained how her granddaughter was just starting to learn how to make some of her own. And then told me that the booth next to hers was "selling some therian masks" (yes she actually used the word therian completely unprompted!) and sure enough the couple in there were selling some masks made by their 11 year old daughter (which were absolutely gorgeous btw). Afterwards, as I was out near the parking lot waiting for my ride so that I could leave, I was practicing quadrobics and some 5-6 year old kids walked past me with their parents and looked absolutely awestruck. Shortly after another woman approached me and told me that her young granddaughter was completely overjoyed when she saw me me running around and had wanted to come play with me, and had said "Ive never seen a creature play like that before!!"

Not only was the ren faire itself super fun and cool to be at (I can't wait for next year omg), but it was unexpectedly the most positive alterhuman related experiences Ive had maybe ever.

There is a future where we are normal, where others see us as who we truly are and where we don't have to conceal ourselves to avoid judgement. The road isn't always going to be smooth, especially as we grow in numbers, in fact I fully expect things to get a whole lot worse for us in the years and decades to come. But one day, maybe even in our lifetimes, you will walk through a pride parade and see someone enthusiastically waving a massive theta delta flag through the crowd. You will hear strangers casually use species neutral language like it's the most normal thing in the world. You will sit down with your family to watch the newest popular tv show that includes a character who has received species affirming medical care. You will walk past a cozy locally owned business that has an "all species welcomed!" sticker on their window next to their lgbtq+ and poc welcoming signs.

We are everywhere, and we're not going away. There will always be those who refuse to understand us, but there will be more who choose to love and accept us in our entirety, I have absolutely no doubt about that <3

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hivemuthur · 7 months ago

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The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch. 2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 4,3K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: Reader is a second-year science student that had just switched schools to escape the suffocating love of her parents and Viktor is being a black cat all the way through. A 12-chapter story of two emotionally problematic people falling in love through acknowledging each other's imperfections.

author's note: This is less introspective than my other fics, attempts to be lighter and funny at times. World is completely made up, even though contains some real things in it. Viktor's disability is present, but decreased (no back brace and breathing affliction). I will soon create fic masterlist and pin it on my blog and will be linking chapters with future updates.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

You sat wedged between a hot, doe-eyed girl named Sue who was going to be your roommate, and some skinny guy whose name you hadn’t caught—Callum, maybe? Your friend Hale had ditched you to join his theatre group on the other side of the campus, leaving you to navigate introductions with your new course mates alone. Changing universities mid-degree was stressful, but staying back in Sheffield with your parents had been worse. So, yes, it had been the right call. A very good call, you reminded yourself.

Camden had a tiny science department with a handful of brilliant professors. It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t Sheffield. And it had Hale, who had convinced you to come down south with promises of freedom, self-discovery, and the chance to reclaim your status as the unstoppable friend power-couple you’d been in high school (not that you had mattered at all back then, of course).

The room buzzed with overlapping conversations and sporadic bursts of laughter, the faint thrum of inoffensive pop music humming from a Bluetooth speaker in the corner. The second-year welcome party was more like a casual gathering, hosted in one of the university lounges with just enough couches and harsh fluorescent lighting to feel awkwardly cozy. You sipped from a plastic cup of lukewarm cider, your attention flitting between three different conversations happening around you.

To your left, Jayce was in the middle of an animated retelling of how he’d nearly blown up a lab during his undergrad years. His booming laugh and sweeping hand gestures kept everyone engaged, even those who had only half-heard the setup to his punchline. You found yourself smiling despite having missed most of the story. You vaguely recalled his introduction earlier in the evening—Jayce, one of the TAs for your course this year. From Sheffield, like you. Big personality, bigger grin.

On your right stood Viktor, the second TA, his hands resting lightly on his cane. He exuded a quieter kind of presence, his sharp amber eyes scanning the group with an air of detached curiosity. He’d joined the circle mid-conversation, offering the occasional dry comment that earned chuckles from those paying attention.

“You’re training to be a geneticist?” Viktor asked, leaning slightly toward you. His accent caught you off guard—it was Slavic, you thought, though you weren’t confident enough to guess further. You made a mental note to ask him about it one day.

You blinked, surprised to be addressed. “Oh, yeah,” you replied quickly, nodding. “Second year. Still deciding whether I want to focus on medical or research applications, though.” You paused. “You’re in bioengineering for your PhD, right?”

“Correct,” Viktor said with a slight upward quirk of his lips. “It is refreshing to meet someone undecided. Most claim they will change the world before finishing their first term.”

You laughed nervously, unsure if he was mocking you or just making an observation. “Yeah, I’m saving that for third year.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his expression hovering somewhere between amused and sceptical. “Ambitious,” he said dryly.

Before you could respond, Jayce turned toward you, pulling the group’s focus with him. “What about you? Have you had Professor Albin yet? He’s a character, let me tell you. Loves his experiments more than his students.”

You grinned, drawn into the shift in energy. “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard about him. But wait, is he the one who smokes under the laboratory fume hood?”

Jayce snapped his fingers in mock recognition. “Exactly! Last year, he almost caused the whole building to evacuate because he didn’t realise the hood was broken.”

The group erupted into laughter. You found yourself relaxing, leaning into the easy rhythm of the conversation. You missed the glance Viktor cast your way, faintly bemused.

He cleared his throat, a subtle gesture that drew only a few eyes. “Albin may be forgetful, but he has published groundbreaking work on single-cell RNA sequencing. One might forgive the eccentricities, no?”

The remark hung in the air for a beat, slightly out of sync with the conversation’s playful tone. Jayce, quick to keep the mood light, grinned and waved it off. “True, but it doesn’t make his lectures any less painful.”

The laughter resumed, bubbling back up with ease. You smiled, but something about Viktor’s expression lingered in your mind—a subtle tightness around his mouth, almost imperceptible but impossible to ignore once noticed.

You thought to say something, maybe steer the conversation back toward him, but Jayce was already pulling your attention with another question, his energy impossible to resist. The moment slipped away, and with it, that fleeting glimpse of something unreadable in Viktor’s eyes.

The party dispersed shortly after midnight, and you went to find Hale for the promised cigarette and your earlier-agreed session of impression comparing. You spotted him by the fountain, his tall figure hunched over in his velvet vest, already smoking.

“My darling!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide in a theatrical flourish. “So, spill the tea—how was it? Anyone hot? Anyone you already hate? Good decision? Bad decision?”

“Uh… Can I bum a fag? I forgot my pack in the room.” You patted your pockets distractedly as Hale swept you into his arms, spinning you around dramatically. He placed his own cigarette between your lips with a flourish.

“I’m going to burst if you don’t tell me right now. Your mother already hates me—I need to know you don’t hate me too!”

“Joanne is going to be fine,” you replied, rolling your eyes but letting yourself be twirled in your exaggerated tango. “She already sent me, like, a thousand affirmations for my ‘new beginnings.’”

Hale dipped you low, grinning. “And?”

“I… don’t know,” you sighed as he held you in the dramatic pose. “It’s a bunch of nerds, like me, so I guess I’ll be alright.”

Hale gave you a pointed look, his brow furrowing. “You are not just some nerd. You are brilliant, and they are not ready for you.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his voice gentle but firm.

“Alright, alright,” you muttered, waving him off with a small smile. “Full report is as follows: Sue, my roommate—hot and completely oblivious about it. Nobody else really standing out. It’s an even mix of guys and girls.” You started pacing along the edge of the fountain, ticking details off on your fingers. “We’ve got two TAs: one would make you drool, and the other one would make you run for your life.”

“I have to meet them both,” Hale declared with a dramatic flourish, grinning mischievously.

Hale twirled you one last time before pulling you upright with exaggerated care. “You’re lucky I’m such a gracious dance partner, darling,” he said, letting you go with a flourishing bow.

You laughed and brushed your hair out of your face. “Oh, you’re too kind. I didn’t know you’d start your evening in full drama mode.”

Hale smirked, looping his arm through yours as you strolled around the fountain. The air was crisp, the faint glow of the nearby building lights reflecting off the water. “I’m always in drama mode. You know this. Now, tell me—what’s the plan tomorrow? More parties? Some secret nerd ritual?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your shoulder. “Yes, we are totally raising someone from the dead tomorrow,” you smirked. “The TAs are swinging by each room tomorrow to hand out schedules and do a quick orientation. Viktor mentioned it tonight in passing.”

Hale gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Viktor, you say? Is that the one who would make me drool or the one who’d send me running for my life?”

You laughed. “The latter. He’s got this whole ‘intimidating genius’ vibe going on, but I can’t tell if he’s just really smart or if he practices those broody stares in the mirror.”

“Oh, I have to meet this man,” Hale said with a gleam in his eye, spinning you around. “And what about the one who’d make me drool?”

“That’s Jayce,” you replied. “Big, loud, charming. Like a golden retriever who also happens to be jacked and into science.”

Hale pretended to swoon, leaning on you for support. “Be still, my heart. This place might actually be worth sticking around for.”

You smirked, brushing ash off your borrowed cigarette. “Speaking of sticking around, how was your night? Any tragic love stories waiting to happen?”

Hale shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Same old faces, same old dramas. Nothing new. Nobody around here who could really crush my heart, but you know me—I’ll eat anything when I’m starved.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “That’s the spirit. Settle for mediocrity!”

“It’s a survival skill, darling,” Hale replied, grinning as he plucked the cigarette from your fingers and took a long drag.

You walked in silence for a moment, your steps slow and unhurried. You glanced at the fountain, its gentle ripples catching the light, and exhaled a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“I think it was a good decision,” you said softly, breaking the quiet.

Hale raised an eyebrow, handing the cigarette back to you. “Camden? Or letting me drag you here tonight?”

“Both,” you admitted, a small smile playing at your lips. “Thanks for making me come. For once, I actually feel… scared of something. Not stuck.”

Hale’s expression softened, and he threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “That’s because you’re brilliant, and the world doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into the gesture, taking one last drag of the cigarette before flicking it into the fountain.

“Here’s to not being stuck,” Hale declared, lifting an imaginary glass.

“To not being stuck,” you echoed, laughing as the two of you turned and headed back toward the dorms.

***

The sound that woke you and Sue was impossible to describe—a cacophony of metal being violently banged together, accompanied by a high-pitched whining noise. Then came loud banging on the door.

A soft groan came from Sue’s bed as she rolled out, stretching her limbs before sinking onto the floor and curling into a foetal position. “I think it’s the TAs,” she said weakly, yawning.

You decided to be brave, though your first instinct was to shove a pillow over your head and wait for the monster to go away. Dragging yourself out of bed, your head pounding from the cider and cigarettes you’d had with Hale the night before, you trudged to the door. Your expression was one of pure pleading as you opened it and asked, “Is this really how you guys want to start this relationship?”

In front of you, Jayce froze mid-motion, one frying pan held in each hand. Viktor stood just behind him, clutching a bicycle horn and smirking mercilessly.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Jayce boomed, lowering the frying pans slightly but keeping his grin firmly in place, like a weapon. “Ready to seize the day?”

You squinted, shielding your eyes from the hallway light as though it were a personal attack. “Seize the day? I’m about to seize your frying pans and toss them out the window.”

Jayce laughed, completely unbothered, while Viktor raised the bicycle horn and gave it a sharp honk. “Consider it your wake-up call,” Viktor said smoothly, his smirk deepening. “Promptness is a virtue, no?”

“I’m promptly considering murder,” you muttered, glaring at them both.

Behind you, Sue groaned from her spot on the floor. “I’m not coming out. Tell them I’m dead.”

Jayce leaned sideways to peer into the room. “Good morning to you too, Sue!” he called cheerfully.

“Sod off,” Sue replied, her voice muffled by her arm.

Viktor glanced at Jayce, shaking his head slightly as though disapproving of his partner’s antics. Then he turned his attention back to you. “We are here to distribute schedules and perform a brief orientation,” he said, his tone more measured but no less smug. “You should be grateful. Only the science department students receive such... personal service.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I feel so special. Is banging cookware a requirement of this personal service, or is it just a special treat for us?”

“Just for you,” Jayce said with a wink. “And hey, it worked, didn’t it? You’re awake.”

You sighed, stepping back to let them into the room. “Fine. Come in. But if you touch anything, I’m calling security.”

Jayce sauntered in like he owned the place, plopping the frying pans onto the desk with a loud clang. Viktor followed more quietly, his eyes sweeping the room in a quick, assessing glance. He placed the bicycle horn next to the pans, the absurdity of the scene making you shake your head in disbelief.

“You’re like two chaotic sitcom characters,” you said, rubbing your temples. “And I’m the poor, sleep-deprived protagonist who has to deal with your nonsense.”

Jayce grinned. “I like to think of myself as the lovable goofball.”

“And Viktor’s the straight man?” you guessed, glancing at him.

Viktor’s lips twitched, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he handed you a neatly folded piece of paper. “Your schedule,” he said. “I trust you can manage to read it despite your current... condition.” He gave you a once-over and added, “Nice pyjamas.”

You looked down at yourself, remembering too late that you were wearing red cotton pants with white hearts and an oversized Nirvana sweatshirt. It was a damn nice set of pyjamas—what was the problem? You snatched the paper from him, your mouth twitching into a reluctant smile despite yourself. “Thanks. I’ll try not to faint from gratitude.”

“Much appreciated,” Viktor replied dryly.

Sue, still sprawled on the floor, finally raised her head and groaned. “Do we at least get coffee with this torture?”

Jayce perked up. “Now that’s an idea! Viktor, we should’ve brought coffee.”

“I am not your barista,” Viktor deadpanned.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the morning starting to chip away at your hangover. “Alright, alright. Give us five minutes, and we’ll join the rest of the poor souls you’ve terrorized this morning.”

“Make it three,” Viktor said, his smirk returning as he turned toward the door.

Jayce followed with a wave. “See you downstairs!”

As the door closed behind them, you turned to Sue, who was now sitting up, her hair a wild mess.

“So,” you said, leaning against the door. “Drool-worthy or run-for-your-life?”

Sue blinked, still half-asleep. “What?”

“The TAs,” you clarified, holding back a grin. “Jayce and Viktor. What’s the verdict?”

Sue rubbed her eyes, yawning. “Jayce is like a golden retriever on caffeine. Viktor... is something else. Sharp. Kinda scary. But, like, in a hot way?”

You snorted, tossing the schedule onto your desk. “I’m just trying to survive their weird buddy cop energy.”

Sue flopped back onto the floor with a groan. “Wake me up when it’s over.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s never over, Sue. Welcome to Camden.”

***

Orientation and the first classes passed in a blur of introductions, schedules, and information overload. By the time the fifth person introduced themselves, you’d already forgotten the first three names. Professor Heimerdinger, perched at the front of the lab like an animated encyclopaedia, launched into an overview of the semester: rules for grades and exams, expectations for in-class behaviour, and a note about optional after-class activities for the particularly ambitious—or masochistic.

You braced yourself for the inevitable repeat classes like chemistry and biophysics, but it didn’t bother you. Repetition wasn’t so bad if you could zone out without missing much.

Jayce and Viktor drifted through the room during the lecture, their presence oddly complementary—one buzzing with boundless energy, the other moving with deliberate precision. They pointed out key locations: lab glass, gloves, coats, goggles, and the cabinets you’d definitely forget the moment you walked out. They handed out maps of the department and listed their office hours. Standard procedure. Functional. Dandy.

When it was finally over, Sue nudged you, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Wanna head to the bar nearby?”

“You want to drink again?” You raised an eyebrow, though her expression hinted at ulterior motives.

Sue tilted her head, all innocence. “Or… maybe I want to go to the bar to spy on our TAs,” she said, her gaze trailing after Jayce and Viktor as they left the room.

You sighed, exasperated but amused. “By my calculations, we have about a week to live before we’re buried in coursework.”

“Exactly! We should enjoy it while it lasts.” Sue clasped her hands together and unleashed the puppy eyes. “Please?” she added, her lower lip quivering with Oscar-worthy conviction.

You rolled your eyes, defeated. “I am genuinely terrified of you. And convinced I’ll never be able to say no to you. Fine. One condition: I get to drag Hale along.”

“Is Hale your hot theatre friend?” Sue’s excitement was palpable, her grin wide enough to make you laugh.

“Yes, and he’s also gay, so don’t get your hopes up. He’ll break your heart,” you warned, pulling out your phone to text him.

“I am desperate for a gay boyfriend, so please drag him along whenever you feel like it,” Sue replied, already on her feet, coat slung over her arm.

Your phone buzzed almost instantly: I know the place – seedy shithole. Be there in no time! Hale’s response sealed the deal. You were officially going to a bar to “spy” on your TAs.

The bar was, indeed, a seedy shithole, but it had a quirky charm. Posters plastered the walls, advertising plays, gigs, and questionable student endeavours. Lamps made of beer bottles cast a dim, golden light, and the furniture was an eclectic mix—like someone had raided every grandmother’s attic in a three-mile radius. A fireplace crackled in one corner, surrounded by mismatched cushions for floor seating, and a jukebox stood proudly by the bar, humming with potential.

You approached the bar with Sue, scanning the menu. Sue’s brows furrowed in confusion as she searched for something that wasn’t beer. The bartender, a man with a weathered face and a disarming smile, leaned in. “What can I do for you, honey?”

Sue’s voice turned soft and sweet, almost like a fairy casting a spell. “Do you have anything… sweet?”

The bartender paused, giving her a look like he’d climb mountains to fetch whatever she wanted. For a moment, you wondered if he might actually run to another bar, buy something sugary, and bring it back. The thought made you chuckle as you watched Sue charm her way to a perfect drink.

“Let me surprise you,” the bartender said, flashing Sue a sweet smile before turning to you. “And for you, darling?”

“I’ll just have a pint, cheers,” you replied, your gaze lingering on the heartwarming interaction between the adorable Sue and the massive, tattooed bartender.

“Ah! Let me get this,” you registered an arm sliding between you and Sue, holding a credit card. “Since we forgot the coffees this morning,” Jayce’s familiar grin soon followed, putting a face to the offering hand.

“I’ll be the one buying drinks for my pookie today,” a strong arm wrapped around your neck and shoulders, and you immediately recognized Hale’s voice from above you. “Let me guess… drool-worthy and”—his eyes shifted toward Viktor—“run-for-your-life?”

“I’ve also been called ‘the straight man,’” Viktor remarked, giving you a questioning look.

“Ah, I can see why,” Hale replied, on the verge of ruining your chances for any semblance of dignity this semester. Then he turned to Sue. “And you must be the hot Sue?”

“Oh my god, did you say that?” Sue squeaked playfully, leaning over to grab your hand. “I think you’re hot too,” she added with a wink.

You wanted to sink deep underground and let the demons of hell swallow you whole.

Waiting for your drink to be poured, you watched Jayce, Sue, and Hale drift toward the fireplace sitting area, Hale’s arm already wrapped around your roommate as they chatted animatedly.

“You seem to have a lot of opinions already formed,” Viktor’s voice came from above your shoulder as he reached for his drink—a vodka on the rocks.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll indeed run for my life,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Is that so?” His tone was smooth, with just a hint of challenge.

“Absolutely,” you replied, leaning in slightly with mock seriousness. “You’re giving off dangerous, 'I’ve got a sarcastic comment for everything' vibes. It's a threat.”

Viktor chuckled, the sound warm and surprisingly disarming. “A threat, huh? I’ll have to be careful then.” He took a sip of his drink, his eyes glinting. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile forming at the edge of your mouth. “I wasn’t worried.”

For a moment, you both stood there, the noise of the bar buzzing around you. Viktor’s gaze lingered a moment too long, making you feel slightly off balance. Then, with a casual shrug, he turned back to the group by the fireplace.

“Let’s go join the chaos,” he said nonchalantly, throwing you a brief glance over his shoulder as he walked away.

You followed, still trying to shake the unexpected buzz of the encounter. It was weird how Viktor could throw you off without even trying.

By the time you approached the group, Hale had already charmed Jayce and Sue, effortlessly pulling them into his world with animated tales of his theatre exploits. He gestured enthusiastically, his voice rich with excitement. “So, we’re doing Rocky Horror Picture Show this year for the mid-semester final,” he announced, his theatrical tone drawing everyone in. “We’re looking for actors—are any of you up for it?”

Sue, looking both intrigued and a little unsure, glanced over at Jayce, who was already grinning. “I’m afraid that my singing would have you fail the final, Hale,” Jayce said with a laugh, clearly weighing the possibilities. “I will gladly come and watch, though?”

Hale grinned wider. “I’ll put you in the front row! And Y/N’s been trying to convince me to take on Frank N. Furter’s part, which made me think she’d make a killer Janet.”

At that, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, your playful tone cutting through the banter. “Only if I can play Magenta,” you said, tossing your head back slightly. “Otherwise, it's a no-go.”

The group chuckled, but Jayce, who had been half-listening as they continued talking, suddenly perked up. “Wait, hold on. Are you both actually from Sheffield?” He leaned forward slightly, clearly curious.

You smirked, folding your arms across your chest and leaning in, dropping the playful façade for a second. “I don’t have my Pulp T-shirt on me today,” you quipped, “but I can show you my ID?”

Raising an eyebrow, you knew full well that a bit of playful sarcasm could spark a reaction. Viktor, standing just a few steps behind, glanced over at you as your words hit the air. His eyes flicked between you and Jayce, his attention sharpened but still calm, like he was quietly enjoying your back-and-forth with the others.

Jayce laughed, shaking his head. “You really are from Sheffield, aren’t you?”

“Born and bred,” you shot back with a grin, your hands slipping into your pockets. “Don’t let the accent fool you.”

Viktor took a small sip of his drink, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his gaze as he continued to watch you. You had a way of carrying yourself—like you knew how to hold your ground, even when teasing. And now that you had mentioned it, there was a non-Sheffield accent lingering underneath your words.

“Eh, it’s not a place for stars like us,” Hale mused, giving your thigh a playful squeeze.

“My darling, brilliant man, you know all I wish for you is to never step foot in that shithole again and rise to stardom so fast the bystanders get their eyes burned,” you replied with a dramatic flourish, your grin wide and teasing.

Jayce laughed, raising his beer. “Well, before anyone dies burned by Hale’s halo, I guess we could all drag along back for Christmas together?”

“Jayce, if there is anything to drag by then, be my guest,” you responded with a quiet clank of your glass against Jayce’s.

“Oh yes, Christmas is a must. I have to bring a peace offering to Y/N’s mother for stealing her precious daughter away from the family nest,” Hale said, making an exaggerated frightened face when mentioning your mum, Joanne.

“Hale, repeat after me: Joanne is going to be fine. It’s about time she grows up.”

***

Jayce and Viktor walked down the dimly lit street, the buzz of the bar still echoing in their steps. The night air was cool, and the muffled sounds of laughter and music faded behind them as they made their way back to the dorms.

“I love freshmen,” Jayce said, a grin tugging at his lips.

Viktor shot him a sidelong glance. “That’s disturbing.”

“Come on, they’re cute.” Jayce shrugged; his tone playful. “Good idea with the morning orchestra, by the way. Got them all riled up.”

Viktor’s lips twitched at the memory. “The girls sure have their eyes on you.” He looked at Jayce, raising an eyebrow. “You planning on visiting Y/N’s family for Christmas already?”

Jayce laughed. “I don’t know, man. I have a feeling her eyes are actually on you.”

Viktor paused mid-step, narrowing his eyes. “She literally called me 'the straight man' and the 'run-for-your-life-one.' I highly doubt it.”

Jayce nudged him with his elbow. “You know nothing about girls, Viktor.” Viktor gave him a sceptical look, but Jayce’s grin only grew wider, and for once, Viktor couldn't help but wonder if Jayce was right.

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