Latest Posts by bbsaeko - Page 2

𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙔 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙄𝙍 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀

𐙚🧸ྀི 𝙁𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂: Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Ejiro Kirishima, Shoto Todoroki, Denki Kaminari

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ 𝙏𝙒/𝘾𝙒: nothing scary, just fluff. pet names, all characters are in a relationship with afab! reader, love languages with the core 5

an: thank you for over 100 notes on my last post!

Katsuki Bakugo: He isn't good with his emotions. No surprise to anyone, but he lovess giving gifts. Without a doubt, he would buy you the whole world if he could. He'd burn it into ashes if you asked him to. He would notice what you pick up in stores, then in secret, would buy it for you later.

"oi, I got you this or whatever." He handed you the stuffed animal you picked up earlier. You smiled and accepted his gift. Both of you blushing, you managed to get up and hug him. He insisted you let go, but he accepted your touch like he craved it from the start.

He also appreciates quality time. It doesn't matter what you two could be doing. It could be training, watching him cook, or even sitting beside each other in silence while being on your phones. As long as he knows you're safe with him, he's able to relax.

Izuku Midoriya: I think Izuku would show his love by showing acts of service and quality time. Without a doubt, Izuku would do anything for you. He appreciates the small tasks/favors you ask him to do, like tying your shoes, helping with homework, etc. If it makes him feel included in your life, he'd do it.

He dies every time you ask to hang out. He gets so overwhelmed when he's the one planning. I mean, where do I start? The poor boy goes into a spiral with the amount of date ideas and what he should wear- other stuff as well, but he goes crazy. However, if you were to plan the date, he'd be fine with anything. As long as you're with him, it doesn't matter.

Ejiro Kirishima: His love language is for sure physical touch and words of affirmation. I picture his s/o to work out a lot or have similar motives to become "manly", so you two would practically be touching up each other every time you two train. Despite training, he loves your touch. If you forget to hug or kiss him that day, he might actually die. Physical touch reassures him that you're there for him and you're here to stay.

On the other hand, he loves motivating his girl and what's better motivation than one's words?

"Good job!", "You're doing great baby", "Atta' girl!"

Shoto Todoroki: I personally think that Shoto is 100% on board with quality time with a hint of physical touch. He's not used to it but once he receives it, there's no going back. I mean, he's never gotten the love he deserved so when you came along, you finally filled that open wound.

Like Katsuki, he wouldn't mind some quiet quality time. Where the two of you remain in your own corners, doing whatever, while being in the same room. He would probably study your movements. Peeping over your phone to see what you personally find funny, sad, happy, etc.

With the help of his siblings, he buys meaningful gifts for you. Like something poetic y'know?

Denki Kaminari: I lovee writing for Denki so this might be long. His love language is everything on the scale. He'd want to do things for you, to please your needs and emotions. he values how you feel so much that he's probably put your needs over his but you have to remind him to himself first despite being his girlfriend.

Who can forget quality time? He wouldn't want to spend the day without his baby. He's hovering over you 24/7, waiting for your next move. When you're not with him, you can hear his cute whiny voice asking "where's [reader] :("

He never misses a moment to make you feel loved. Compliments is a major requirement. This obviously goes both ways, but he definitely does over do it sometimes.

If you're not in reach of him, he'll make sure to run towards you, arms wide and everything. It's even worse during y'all's alone time. Imagine cuddling and trying to use the bathroom but your stupid boyfriend won't let you go because he'll "miss your touch"

Finally, he loves giving you things he makes/finds. He'll even pick up flowers from the ground and put them in your hair because it reminds him of you. He's the type of boyfriend to go on Instagram or Pinterest for "homemade gifts" because he probably spends his money on food or his personal interests, but if he has extra money, he makes sure to get something for his loving girlfriend!

“What’s my name in your phone?”

Pairings : Denki, kirishima, bakugo, todoroki, midoriya, iida, and shinso x reader (separate) Warnings :literally none

I witerally love Denki 😛 I spent literally no time on this

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Dating Headcanons

*ೃ༄ Bat Family x GN!Reader

ׂ╰┈➤ Dick Grayson x Reader, Jason Todd x Reader, Tim Drake x Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader, Wally West x Reader, Stephenie Brown x Reader.

·˚ ༘ Content warning- Fluff Fluff and more fluff no warning needed.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

♡︎ Supportive and Playful: Dick is the kind of partner who makes you feel seen and valued. He’s always there to support your goals, whether it’s something big like a career change or something small like a new hobby. He’s the first to cheer you on and the first to offer help if you need it. Expect a lot of encouraging texts, sweet notes, and spontaneous surprise dates.

♡︎ Playful and Teasing: Dick loves to tease you in the most affectionate ways. He’ll make fun of your little quirks (like that habit you have of always forgetting where you put your keys), but it’s always with a playful smile and a wink. He knows how to make you laugh and lighten the mood, even in tense moments. And when you’re out in public, he’s not afraid to show affection, whether it’s holding your hand or leaning in for a quick kiss.

♡︎ Romantic Gestures: Dick is the type of person to plan spontaneous date nights, even if it’s just picking up your favorite food and watching a movie at home. He enjoys the little things that make you feel loved—like waking up early to make you coffee or sending you cute messages during the day.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Jason Todd (Red Hood)

♡︎ Protective and Intense: Jason can be a little intense, especially when it comes to protecting you. He’ll never admit it, but he’s constantly worried about your safety, especially in Gotham. He’s the one who’ll always check in with you, even if you’re just going out with friends. It’s his way of making sure you’re safe without hovering too much. Jason can be very serious, but when it comes to you, there’s a soft side that shows up when you least expect it.

♡︎ Passionate and Loyal: Jason is incredibly loyal, and when he’s in a relationship, he’s all in. He doesn’t do things halfway. He’ll make it clear that you’re his and no one else’s. He’s not the type to hide his feelings, and you’ll know when he’s frustrated or upset, but he’ll also go to great lengths to make things right.

♡︎ Tender Moments: Though Jason has a tough exterior, he’ll surprise you with his tenderness in private moments. He’ll open up about his past or his thoughts in ways that he doesn’t with anyone else. He’ll hold you close when you need comfort and always make sure you feel safe in his arms. Expect surprise cuddles after a long, hard day, or him running his fingers through your hair while you’re relaxing together.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Tim Drake (Red Robin)

♡︎ Thoughtful and Supportive: Tim is incredibly thoughtful. He’ll remember the smallest details about you, like your favorite flavor of ice cream or your preferred way of drinking coffee. He’s the kind of partner who goes out of his way to make you feel understood. Expect lots of little gestures—he might buy you something you casually mentioned weeks ago or make you a playlist of songs that remind him of you.

♡︎ Low-Key but Affectionate: Tim doesn’t necessarily show his affection with grand gestures, but in his own subtle way, he makes it clear how much he cares. He’ll hold your hand during walks or gently place his hand on your back as he guides you through a crowd. His affection comes through in quiet, meaningful ways, and even in the midst of chaos, he’ll always prioritize spending quality time with you.

♡︎ Honest Conversations: Tim values open and honest communication. If something’s on his mind, he won’t shy away from talking it out with you, even if it’s uncomfortable. He’ll be the first to apologize if he thinks he’s wrong, and he’ll always be there to listen to you when you need to talk.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Bruce Wayne (Batman)

♡︎ Mysterious and Reserved: Bruce’s love language is subtle, and he tends to show his affection through actions more than words. He’s not one for grand declarations or over-the-top romantic gestures, but his loyalty and care for you are unwavering. He’ll ensure you’re taken care of in ways you might not even realize, like checking that your favorite book is in stock or arranging for you to have some time off when you’re stressed.

♡︎ Protective and Caring: Bruce can’t help but want to protect you. He might be distant at times, especially when his work takes over, but he always makes sure you’re safe. He’ll check in on you when you least expect it, just to make sure you’re okay. When you’re with him, he’ll always keep an eye on your safety, whether it’s walking you home or ensuring your surroundings are secure.

♡︎ Quiet Moments: Bruce isn’t the most outwardly affectionate person, but when he’s with you, he lets his guard down just a little. He enjoys quiet moments—whether it’s sitting in the Batcave while you help him with a case or sharing a meal in silence. It’s his way of saying, “I trust you,” without words.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Wally West (The Flash)

♡︎ Playful and Spontaneous: Wally is the kind of partner who keeps things exciting and fun. He’s always coming up with new and spontaneous dates, from surprise trips to the beach to random ice cream runs in the middle of the night. He knows how to make you laugh and bring out your playful side, often pulling pranks or making silly jokes just to get you to smile.

♡︎ Affectionate and Open: Wally is incredibly affectionate, and he has no problem showing it. He’ll hold your hand in public, kiss your cheek randomly, or surprise you with a bear hug when you least expect it. His love for you is clear in the way he treats you with kindness and warmth.

♡︎ Always Makes You Feel Special: Wally is great at making you feel special, no matter the occasion. Whether it’s remembering your favorite snack or surprising you with a small thoughtful gift, he knows exactly how to make you feel appreciated. He’ll always make time for you, no matter how busy he is, and he’ll always find ways to remind you that you matter to him

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Stephenie Brown (Spoiler)

♡︎ Playful and Fun: Stephanie keeps things light and fun in the relationship. She’s always making you laugh, even when things get tough. She’s not afraid to act goofy, and she loves to make your days a little brighter with her antics. Whether it’s planning a spontaneous date or sending silly texts, she keeps you entertained.

♡︎ Caring and Thoughtful: Stephanie may be goofy, but she’s also deeply caring. She’ll always check in with you when you need support, and she’s a great listener. If you’re upset, she’ll make sure you feel heard and comforted, often with a comforting touch or a silly joke to cheer you up.

♡︎ Romantic in Her Own Way: While she may not do grand gestures, Stephanie will surprise you with small romantic moments that are meaningful. Whether it’s buying you your favorite dessert or leaving you a cute note

©Sanjisprincess ||| do not copy or translate my work.

Gilded Cage part two

featuring. Ekko x fem!reader

wc. 15k

synopsis. Born from house Arvino, one of the richest and influential families of piltover. You had it all from luxurious gifts, fancy meals, a magnificent bedroom and much more. You're parents gave you everything you asked for. However still never satisfied you. You're mind always looked at the injustice and suffering zaun was going through. That's when you first met ekko, the firelights' leader. Not very happy to have a pilty messing stuff up.

trope. "enemies to lovers"

warnings. slow burn, cursing, blood, drugs, kissing, death!, suggestive, kinda grinding against each other (clothed tho), angst

requested. by anon

a/n. it's more like enemies to friends to lovers (sorry) let me know if there’s any mistakes so i may fix it.

Darkness. An oppressive, suffocating void that seemed to stretch endlessly. You floated in its cold embrace, weightless yet crushingly burdened by the weight of your own thoughts. Memories flickered like dying embers, elusive and fragmentary. You could barely recall where you had been, what had happened, or how you had ended up here. The edges of recollection teased you: Ekko’s voice, steady and warm, calling your name. The heavy press of bodies at the Last Drop, the tang of alcohol mingling with smoke. Then a sharp, searing sting in your neck—and the world spiraling into oblivion. Now, you were adrift, lost in a sea of disjointed images and emotions.

Your mind was an unrelenting storm, twisting and turning with fears and insecurities you thought you had buried long ago. The sound of Margot’s cruel laughter cut through the fog like a blade, her words threading through your subconscious like venom. “He doesn’t care about you,” her voice echoed, dark and mocking. “You’re nothing to him.” You wanted to fight against it, but the darkness clung to you, invasive, as it dragged you deeper. Somewhere, faint and distant, there were voices that were sharp and unfamiliar. They seemed to be arguing, but the words were muffled.

“She’s worth more alive,” one voice said, cutting through the haze like a knife, dragging you closer to consciousness.

“Though, Dead might be less trouble,” another replied, cold and indifferent, a tone that sent a shiver of dread down your spine.

The words clawed at the edges of your awareness, snapping you back toward the surface of reality. Your body felt heavy, impossibly sluggish, but you fought against the pull of unconsciousness with everything you had. It was as if your mind and body were at war, one was desperate to wake up and the other held captive by a paralyzing weight. Slowly, agonizingly, your eyes fluttered open, and the harsh glare of a fluorescent light stabbed into your vision.

The room around you was cold and unforgiving, bathed in the sterile glow of artificial lighting that illuminated every inch of its metallic surfaces. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of rust and oil, and beneath it all lingered something acrid and chemical, clinging to your nostrils like a warning. The faint hum of machinery thrummed in the background, a low, ominous noise that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. You tried to move, but your arms were pinned to the cold metal chair beneath you, thick leather straps biting into your wrists. A matching set bound your ankles, and as you tested the restraints, they didn’t budge an inch.

A spike of panic shot through you as the reality of your situation set in. Your breath came faster, shallow and uneven, as your eyes darted around the room. The Chem Barons loomed before you, seated around an oval table at the far end of the room. The glow from the monitors lining the walls illuminated their faces, casting their expressions in stark relief. Each face was a mask of greed, malice, and twisted amusement, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent as they spoke about you as though you weren’t even there.

“She’s valuable,” one of them said, his voice carrying a sickening undertone of satisfaction. “Alive, she’s worth a fortune to topside. They’ll pay anything to get their hands on her.”

“Dead might be easier to deal with,” another replied, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. “Still worth a decent haul. Less risk of her escaping, too.”

Your stomach churned as their words sank in. You were a prize to them, nothing more than a commodity to be traded for wealth and power. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to get out, but the restraints held firm no matter how hard you pulled. Your breathing quickened as you struggled, the leather cutting into your skin, and the faint taste of blood rose in your throat.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The smooth, taunting voice cut through the air like a blade, and your gaze snapped to the woman standing at the table. Margot. Her presence was magnetic in the worst way, her movements deliberate and calculated as she leaned casually against the table, arms crossed over her chest. Her lips curled into a smirk, her eyes alight with cruel amusement as she studied you, like a predator toying with its prey.

“Well, well,” she said, pushing off the table and taking a slow step toward you. “The perfect little topsider, all tied up and helpless. Not so high and mighty now, are we?”

You glared at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response, but the corner of her mouth twitched, as if she were amused by your defiance. She began to circle you, her heels clicking against the floor with each measured step, her presence oppressive and suffocating.

“Do you know where your little hero is right now?” she asked, her voice dripping with mockery. “Out there, playing the savior for Zaun. That’s his priority, isn’t it? Always has been. Zaun this. Zaun that.”

It seemed like the world around you shifted, like a bad dream slowly releasing its hold on you. And there it was, the overwhelming effects of the shimmer. Oh the pounding in your head, twisting of your thoughts, and voices echoing in your ears. Then it began to fade. It felt like dragging yourself out of quicksand, every inch a battle as clarity tried to surface through the chaos. Your breath came in shallow gasps, chest heaving as the purple haze in your vision began to lift.

Dim lights suffocated the room, illuminated by the faint flicker of old industrial lights dangling above. The Chem Barons lounged around the oval table, their laughter low and cruel as they watched your struggle with detached amusement. The factory scent in the air, mingled with the acrid sting of chemicals you didn’t want to identify.

Margot leaned casually against the table, twirling the now-empty syringe between her fingers with an air of smug satisfaction. Her lips curled into a grin that sent a wave of anger through you, though your body was too weak to act on it.

“Looks like you’re finally coming down,” she remarked, her tone almost conversational. “I’ll admit, I was worried for a moment there. Would’ve been a shame if you’d overdosed before we made use of you.”

You glared at her through the haze of exhaustion, your teeth clenched as you struggled to steady your breathing. “Go to hell,” you rasped, your voice hoarse and raw.

Margot chuckled, pushing off the table to approach you. “Feisty, even now. I like that,” she said, crouching in front of you so that her face was level with yours. Her eyes gleamed with twisted delight as she reached out, gripping your chin tightly between her fingers to force you to look at her.

“You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” she murmured, her voice low and almost admiring. “But spirit won’t save you. You’re nothing more than a bargaining chip now.”

You jerked your head away from her grasp, the movement sharp despite the lingering weakness in your body. Margot let out an amused laugh as she stood, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Here’s the deal, sweetheart,” she began, her tone turning more like one of a businessman’s. “We hand you over to topside. You get to enjoy whatever punishment they’ve got waiting for you, and we get our prize money. It’s a win-win, really.” The other Chem Barons murmured their approval, the greed in their voices unmistakable.

You stared at her, your chest tightening with rage. “You really think I’d agree to that?” you spat, your voice laced with venom.

Margot shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching into a mocking smirk. "Oh, I don't need your agreement, darling," she replied smoothly, her voice dripping with condescension. "I was just being polite by giving you the illusion of a choice. Hey, but maybe we can work something out. Give me something useful. A secret, a connection, something, and maybe I don't have to hand you over." Her words were a sick game, a mockery of negotiation. You weren't stupid; you knew she had no intention of letting you go freely. Your anger bubbled over as you leaned forward as much as your restraints allowed, glaring daggers at her.

"I'll see you rot before I help you," you growled, the force of your words surprising even yourself.

Margot's expression darkened, and the smirk fell from her face. For a moment, there was silence, tension crackling in the air like static. Then, without warning, she lashed out, slapping you hard across the face. The sharp sting of her hand against your cheek was enough to make your head whip to the side.

"Stupid girl," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You think you have power here? You think you get to decide anything?" She took a step back, reaching into her pocket and pulling out another syringe.

Your stomach dropped as you saw the familiar glow of shimmer inside it, brighter and more concentrated than before.

"No-no, don't," you stammered, panic setting in as she approached.

"Don't what?" she mocked, her grin returning with a sadistic edge. "You already made your choice. Let's see if we can loosen that sharp tongue of yours."

Before you could protest further, she plunged the needle into your neck. Pain shot through your body as the shimmer flooded your veins, an uncontrollable heat spreading through your limbs. You let out a scream, your vision blurring as the drug took hold. The world tilted on its axis, the edges of reality fraying as hallucinations crept in. The Chem Barons' laughter grew distorted, their faces warping into monstrous visages. The room seemed to shrink and expand simultaneously, and the voices in your head (the ones you thought had faded) came roaring back with a vengeance.

You clawed at the arms of the chair, your nails digging into the metal as you tried to anchor yourself. Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that it felt like it might burst, and your breathing became erratic.

Margot's voice cut through the chaos, taunting and cruel. "Look at you, squirming like a cornered animal. It's almost poetic."

Your restraints clicked open suddenly, and you stumbled forward, barely catching yourself before hitting the ground. Margot stood over you, her hands on her hips as she sneered down at your trembling form.

"We're taking you topside," she announced, her tone laced with finality.

"Dead or alive, you're worth the same. But I think I prefer you like this, completely broken and barely holding on. It'll make the handoff more entertaining."

Two of her lackeys stepped forward, gripping you under your arms and hauling you to your feet. Your legs wobbled beneath you, the shimmer wreaking havoc on your motor control. The world spun violently as they began dragging you toward the door, your head lolling as you tried and failed to stay upright. Harsh sunlight hit your face like someone slapped you as they pulled you outside. The brightness was disorienting, and you squinted against it, your head throbbing. Air, heavy with the industrial tang of Zaun, and the sounds of machinery mixed with voices. Enforcers.

Ahead, you could see the bridge leading topside, a line of Enforcers waiting at the end with rifles slung over their shoulders. The sight sent a fresh wave of panic through you, and you thrashed weakly in the Chem Barons' grip.

"Let me go," you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

Margot walked alongside you, her expression one of smug satisfaction. "Save your strength," she advised mockingly. "You'll need it to grovel when you're thrown at the feet of the Council."

The closer you got to the bridge, the harder your heart pounded. You were barely holding on, your mind teetering on the edge of madness as the shimmer coursed through you. The voices in your head screamed louder, with the fear and anger that threatened to drown you.

Margot leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered "Don't worry, sweetheart. This is just the beginning." You gritted your teeth, determination flickering within you despite the haze.

The journey to Piltover’s inner walls was a blur of pain and exhaustion. Your legs refused to hold you, the shimmer coursing through your veins wreaking havoc on your body. Every step felt like a battle, your limbs trembling as Margot’s goons dragged you forward. The bright sunlight burned your eyes, and the Piltover’s bustling streets added to your disorientation. All of the voices of the enforcers were sharp as they spoke to Margot, thanking her and her men.

“Good work,” one of the officers said, his tone almost bored. “Your payment will be processed soon. We’ll take it from here.”

Margot smirked, her victory evident in her smug posture. She leaned close to you one last time, her voice a low whisper meant only for your ears.

“Enjoy the next chapter, darling,” she sneered. “If you survive, maybe we’ll cross paths again.”

You didn’t have the strength to respond. Instead, you slumped further as the Enforcers took hold of you, their grip cold. You tried to plant your feet, to resist, but your body betrayed you. Your knees buckled, and they dragged you forward without hesitation.

Piltovers inner walls loomed ahead, their pristine white stone a stark contrast to the grime and chaos of Zaun. Everything was suffocating, the streets lined with polished brass and bustling citizens who barely glanced your way. The shimmer made it hard to focus, your vision swimming with colors and shadows that didn’t belong.

By the time you reached the Council building, you were on the verge of collapse. The Enforcers hauled you through the ornate doors, their boots echoing loudly against the marble floors. Of course the air would be cold and sterile, filled with the murmur of voices and hurried footsteps as people passed by.

They led you into the grand council chamber, its circular design intimidating and imperial. The room was bathed in warm light from the massive stained-glass windows, depicting Piltover’s history in vibrant detail. At the center was the imposing council table, its surface polished to a mirror shine, where Ambessa Medarda sat like a queen upon her throne.

Beside her were your parents. Your father’s expression was like stone, his cold eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn’t even glance at you as the Enforcers placed you in one of the chairs facing the council. Your mother, on the other hand, was a picture of worry, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her eyes were wide as they took you in, darting over your disheveled appearance and the faint glow of shimmer in your irises. The moment the Enforcers stepped back, your mother rushed to your side. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it left you breathless.

“My sweet child,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. “I was so worried about you.”

You barely had the strength to return the embrace, but her warmth was a calming sensation to your anxious nerves. She pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, her hands cupping your face as she searched your eyes.

“What have they done to you?” she whispered, her voice breaking. Her gaze landed on the faint pink glow in your irises, and you saw her expression shift from relief to horror. “Shimmer…” she breathed, her voice barely audible.

Her hands faltered for a moment before she composed herself, but the fear lingered in her eyes. She sat down next to you, her presence a small comfort despite the chaos raging within you. Your father, meanwhile, remained motionless, his gaze fixed ahead as if you weren’t even there. His indifference cut deeper than you expected, and your heart sank. He doesn’t care. He never has.

Ambessa’s voice rang out, commanding and unyielding, but the pounding in your head made it impossible to focus on her words. Your mother nudged you gently, her worried expression urging you to pay attention.

“Listen,” she whispered softly, but her voice carried an undertone of dread.

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on Ambessa. Her sharp eyes bore into you as she spoke, her words cutting through the haze.

“You have become a liability,” she declared, her voice devoid of sympathy. “A danger to the order and stability of Piltover. It is the council’s decision that you be sent to Stillwater Hold immediately.”

Your stomach dropped, the weight of her words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Stillwater Hold, the maximum security, isolation, a prison for those too dangerous to be allowed freedom.

“No,” you muttered, shaking your head weakly. “No, you can’t—”

“This is not up for debate,” Ambessa interrupted coldly, rising to her feet. Her imposing figure seemed to tower over you, her presence suffocating. “You will be placed in isolation, cut off from all outside contact. Perhaps there, you will have time to reflect on your mistakes.”

Your mother’s hand gripped yours tightly, her knuckles white. She looked as if she wanted to speak, to protest, but no words came. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and you could see the conflict in her eyes.

Your father, however, barely reacted. He simply stood, his face betraying a flicker of surprise, but nothing more.

As Ambessa turned to leave, the Enforcers moved forward to restrain you once again. Panic clawed at your chest, your mind racing with the implications of her decree. You would be alone, cut off from everything and everyone you cared about. The thought of never seeing Ekko again made your heart ache, but then Margot’s words crept back into your mind.

He doesn’t care about you. He only cares about Zaun. But did he?

You shook your head, trying to dispel the doubt, but it lingered like a shadow. The Enforcers’ hands were rough as they pulled you to your feet, and your mother’s grip slipped away.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you looked at her. “Don’t let them do this.”

The hallway outside the council chambers was dimly lit, while there was golden glow coming from the chamber’s interior. The walls were lined with brass and marble, their polished surfaces catching faint reflections of the soldiers escorting you. Their grip was unyielding as they dragged you forward, your legs barely able to cooperate. Your body felt heavy, a dull ache spreading through your muscles, but the shimmer in your veins still faintly there. Almost like a silent threat waiting to be unleashed. Unpredictable.

Your mother walked alongside you, her hand clinging tightly to yours as if her touch alone could anchor you in this moment. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, her voice choked by the emotions roiling within her.

“You can’t do this to them,” she pleaded to the soldiers, her words soft but desperate. “They’re not a danger—they’re my daughter.”

The soldiers didn’t respond, their expressions stoic. They marched forward with mechanical precision, their polished armor clinking faintly with each step. You glanced over your shoulder at your mother, her hand tightening around yours as if she sensed the impending separation.

“Please,” she begged, her voice cracking. “Let me—”

Her words were cut off as the soldiers abruptly stopped, their grip on you tightening. One of them turned to her, his expression a mix of irritation and indifference.

“Ma’am, please step back,” he ordered firmly.

“No,” your mother said, her voice rising in defiance. “I won’t let you take my daughter!”

The soldier’s hand moved to pry hers away from yours, but she held on tighter, her knuckles white. Her desperation was palpable, each of her movements fueled by love and fear.

“Mother,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It’s okay—”

However, it wasn’t okay and it never would be. With being over dramatic that they would send someone to prison just for being a kind person. What kind of society was piltover, and how you could’ve been so blind.

The soldier’s patience snapped, and he moved to forcibly remove your mother’s hand from yours. The moment he yanked at her wrist, something inside you cracked. All the shimmer that had been bubbling beneath the surface roared to life, seeping in your veins. Heat spread through your body, the sensation almost euphoric.

Before you could think, your body moved on instinct. With a feral growl, you jerked free from the soldiers’ grasp. Your fists flew before you realized what you were doing, one striking the soldier nearest to you with a sickening thud. He staggered back, his helmet clattering to the ground, and you turned on the second soldier with the same ferocity. The shimmer gave you strength you didn’t recognize, each movement fluid and devastating. Your fist collided with the second soldier’s chest plate, sending him stumbling backward into the marble wall with a dull clang. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the shimmer’s intoxicating power coursing through you. The sensation was overwhelming, your limbs felt lighter, faster, and yet there was a wildness to it all, a lack of control that frightened you even as it exhilarated you.

Turning back, you stumbled into your mother’s arms, clutching her tightly as though holding her could tether you to the world and keep the chaos at bay. Her arms wrapped around you immediately, her warmth and familiar scent grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking as tears burned at your eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll see you again.”

“You will,” she said firmly, her hands gripping your face to make you look at her. Tears streaked down her cheeks, but her gaze was resolute. “I’ll find a way. I swear to you.”

Her promise felt like a fragile thread in the storm raging inside you. You wanted to believe her, but every step you’d taken since leaving Zaun seemed to lead only to destruction and despair. The sound of heavy footsteps broke the moment, and you turned to see your father striding toward the chaos, his expression carved in stone. His cold eyes scanned the scene: the soldiers disarmed and you clinging to your mother. His lips twisted into a sneer of disgust.

“Enough of this display,” he snapped, his voice laced with venom. “You’re embarrassing yourself, woman.”

Your mother flinched at his tone, her grip on you tightening as though she could shield you from his words. “They’re our daughter!” she shot back, her voice trembling with emotion. “How can you stand there and act like they mean nothing to you?”

“They don’t,” your father said flatly, his gaze flicking to you as if you were a mere inconvenience. “They’ve chosen to align themselves with filth, with criminals. They’ve disgraced this family, and I will not tolerate it.”

His words hit you like a physical blow, and your grip on your mother faltered. The shimmer inside you pulsed violently, responding to your rising anger. You could feel it clawing at the edges of your mind, urging you to lash out, to fight back.

“I never chose this,” you spat, your voice trembling with rage. “You abandoned me long before I ever set foot in Zaun.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, pulling your mother away from you with a firm hand. She resisted, but his grip was unyielding, dragging her back as she cried out in protest.

“Let her go!” you shouted, lunging toward them, but the shimmer’s effects were waning, leaving your body weak and unsteady.

The soldiers had recovered by now, and they seized you once more, their grips like iron. You struggled, but the strength you’d felt moments ago was gone, replaced by an aching exhaustion.

“Take them away,” your father ordered coldly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Father, please—”

“You are no child of mine,” he said, cutting you off.

His words echoed in your ears as the soldiers dragged you away, your mother’s cries fading into the distance. Your heart felt like it was shattering in your chest, each beat a reminder of how alone you were. All of the halls blurred around you as you were pulled toward your fate. The shimmer’s residual effects made the world feel surreal, the edges of your vision tinged with purple. Your thoughts spiraled, looping back to the same unbearable truth: no one was coming to save you.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, a flicker of defiance remained. The shimmer may have weakened, but it had left something behind. A burning determination not to let them break you. Never.

As you were led toward the transport that would take you to Stillwater, you clenched your fists, vowing to fight for every chance to escape, for every moment to prove them wrong. Whatever happened next, you would not give up. Not yet.

There were occasional crackle of old, sparking wires however the hideout was quiet. It should’ve been comforting, this kind of silence, which was a rare occurrence. But it wasn’t. It never would be, not with you missing.

Ekko sat hunched over his desk in the corner of the workshop, his head resting in his hands. The glow of the green light hanging above cast harsh shadows across his face, emphasizing the exhaustion etched into his features. He hadn’t slept in days. He didn’t have the luxury of rest, not while you were out there somewhere, alone. Or worse. Dead.

The thought of what could be happening to you tightened his chest. It wasn’t like you to not come back without a word, and the reality of your disappearance had hit him like a freight train. He could still see you in his mind, sitting across the room from him with that subtle smirk you always wore when teasing him. You were always a little guarded, but he could read the warmth in your eyes when you let your guard down around him. That warmth haunted him now.

He slammed a fist down on the table, rattling a collection of discarded tools and blueprints. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

The door to the hideout creaked open, and Scar stepped inside, his boots clicking softly against the floor. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, he knew better than to try when Ekko was like this.

“Any word?” he asked without looking up, his voice clipped.

Scar hesitated. “Not good news.”

Ekko turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Spit it out.”

Scar exhaled, crossing his arms. “Word on the street is there’s a bounty on their head. Big money, too. Dead or alive.”

For a moment, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. He shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What?” His voice was a mix of disbelief and fury.

“You heard me,” Scar said, his tone softer now. “Ambessa is the one behind it. And who else would want that good amount of money other that the chem-barons. So if I had to bet…”

“Margot,” Ekko growled, the name leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as anger surged through him.

“Yeah,” Scar said. “She’s got her hands in everything these days. If anyone’s got the resources to snatch someone up, it’s her.”

Ekko couldn’t think. He grabbed the edge of the desk and flipped it in one violent motion, sending tools, papers, and scraps of metal crashing to the floor. Scar didn’t flinch. He’d seen him lose his temper before, though never like this.

“They took my friend!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “They were safe, or at least I thought they were. I should’ve—” He stopped himself, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

“You couldn’t have known,” Scar said cautiously.

“I should’ve kissed them when I had the chance,” Ekko muttered bitterly, his voice barely audible.

Scar raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his admission. “Wait, you mean—”

“Don’t,” Ekko interrupted sharply, his jaw tightening. He didn’t need his commentary, not now.

Scar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, boss, I get it. You care about them. We all do. And tearing yourself apart isn’t gonna bring them back. You need to focus.”

“I am focused,” Ekko snapped, his eyes blazing. “I’ve been doing everything I can to find them. I’ve been working nonstop! But every second that goes by, they could be—” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Scar stepped closer, his voice softening. “We’ll find them, Ekko.”

Ekko turned away from his second-in-command, his shoulders slumping. The weight of his responsibilities as a leader, as someone who cared about you more than he was willing to admit, was crushing him. He thought back to all the moments he could’ve told you how he felt. How he should’ve told you. Now, he might never get the chance.

“Do we have any leads?” he asked after a long silence, his voice low.

“Nothing solid,” Scar admitted. “But I’ll keep digging. And so will the others.”

Ekko nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. If Margot had you, then time was running out. He’d seen what the chem-barons were capable of, how they toyed with their captives before discarding them like garbage. The thought of you in their clutches made his stomach churn. He clenched his fists again, his knuckles white.

As Scar left to rally the others, Ekko sat back down amidst the chaos he’d created, staring at the mess of blueprints and tools scattered across the floor. He picked up a small gadget you’d been working on before you disappeared. It was a half-finished invention with wires sticking out at odd angles.

He turned it over in his hands, a lump forming in his throat. You were always so brilliant, so determined to make a difference in this broken city. How could he have let this happen to you?

“I’ll find you,” he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. “No matter what it takes, I’ll bring you back.” The promise felt hollow in the silence of the room, but it was all he had.

Smoky air filled around the abandoned factory that thick with decay, the scent of rust and mildew clinging to the walls like an oppressive fog. Inside, the dim light of a single hanging bulb swung precariously, casting jagged shadows across the cavernous space. Crates were scattered haphazardly, some half-opened to reveal pilfered goods and shimmer vials, their contents glowing faintly. Laughter and the clink of glasses echoed faintly, a mocking contrast to the somber silence of the building’s other corners.

Ekko crouched in the shadows near a crumbling brick wall, his mask concealing his expression but failing to hide the fury radiating from him. His staff was collapsed and strapped to his back, ready to be wielded at a moment’s notice. He had been tracking Margot’s operations for days, every lead bringing him closer to you. This factory, this desolate place reeking of despair, was supposed to be your last known location.

Inside, three men sat around a makeshift table fashioned from a wooden pallet and a few stacked crates. They were laughing uproariously, playing cards, and passing a bottle of cheap wine between them. Their demeanor was casual, careless. They had no reason to suspect that death itself was crouched a few feet away, waiting.

Ekko’s fingers flexed over the edge of the wall, the faint creak of leather gloves breaking the ambient noise. The goons’ laughter paused, one of them squinting into the shadows. “You hear that?” he muttered, his hand hovering near his knife.

Ekko stepped into the light, his mask catching the faint glow of the overhead bulb. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but his presence was anything but. The sight of him was enough to make the men freeze, their drunken haze evaporating in an instant.

“Don’t move,” Ekko said, his voice low and cold, like the steel of a blade. He tilted his head slightly, a predatory gesture that sent shivers down their spines. “I’ve got questions, and you’re going to answer them. If you try to run, you won’t get far.”

One of the men, the burliest of the three, leaned back in his chair with a forced laugh, trying to mask his unease. “Questions, huh? You don’t look like an enforcer, kid. What do you want from us?”

Ekko’s fingers twitched, but he kept his composure. “Where is she?”

“Who?” another man asked, feigning ignorance as he leaned forward, his greasy smile exposing yellowed teeth. “We’ve got a lot of ‘shes’ around here. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Ekko took a slow step forward, the sound of his boots deliberate and sharp against the concrete floor. “Don’t play dumb. The girl you took. The one Margot had dragged out of Zaun. Where is she?”

The men exchanged glances, their bravado faltering under the weight of Ekko’s presence. But it wasn’t fear that made them hesitate, it was cruelty. Disgusting.

“Oh,” the burly man said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You mean your little girlfriend. Didn’t think a leader like you would be so sentimental. What’s it like, knowing Margot’s had her claws in her?”

Ekko’s grip on his staff tightened, though he didn’t extend it. Not yet. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said, his voice like gravel. “… She’s under my protection, which means you’ve made a very big mistake.”

The third man, younger than the others and visibly more nervous, chuckled weakly. “Margot did more than protect her. Injected her full of shimmer. Changed her forever.” He leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him. “You should’ve heard her screaming. Begging for it to stop.”

Ekko’s vision got blurred. He didn’t remember crossing the room, but suddenly his hand was around the throat of the younger man, slamming him against the wall with a force that made the other two jump to their feet.

“I said sit down!” Ekko roared, his voice echoing through the factory like a thunderclap. The other two hesitated, their bravado crumbling as they realized just how dangerous this masked vigilante was. Slowly, they lowered themselves back into their seats, though their hands hovered near their weapons.

Ekko released the younger man, letting him crumple to the ground in a coughing heap. He turned his attention to the burly one, his body radiating barely contained rage.

“You think this is funny?” Ekko asked, his voice low and menacing. “You think I won’t rip this place apart to find her?”

“Relax, kid,” the burly man said, though his voice wavered. “You’re not a killer. Everyone knows that.”

Ekko smirked beneath his mask, though there was no humor in it. “You’re right. I’m not. But I don’t need to kill you to make you wish you were dead.”

With a flick of his wrist, he extended his staff and brought it down on the man’s hand with bone-shattering force. The sickening crunch was followed by a howl of pain, and the man clutched his mangled hand to his chest, tears streaming down his face.

“Now,” Ekko said, his voice icy. “Where. Is. She?”

The younger man scrambled to his knees, babbling incoherently. “She’s—she’s gone! Taken to Piltover! The boss wanted to claim the prize money! Please, man, that’s all I know!”

Ekko turned to him, his eyes burning with fury. “Where in Piltover?”

“I don’t know!” the man cried, his hands raised in surrender. “I swear, I don’t know! They took her meet ambessa at the council meeting! That’s all we heard before they left!”

Ekko studied him for a long moment, then stepped back, his staff retracting with a metallic click. “If I find out you’re lying,” he said coldly, “I’ll be back. And you won’t like what happens next.”

He turned and disappeared into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. The factory’s silence returned, but Ekko’s mind was anything but quiet.

You were in Piltover. That much he knew. But the thought of what they might be doing to you, how far they’d gone already, made his blood boil. He blamed himself for letting this happen, for not being there to stop it.

“I’ll find you,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped out of the factory. “No matter what it takes, I’ll bring you home.”

Shivering. The cold was the first thing you noticed. It crept into your bones and settled like a permanent ache, no matter how tightly you wrapped the thin blanket around yourself. The steel walls of your cell reflected nothing but your own hollow gaze, distorted in the warped metal like a ghost haunting itself. The dim, flickering light overhead buzzed incessantly, a monotonous drone that filled the silence.

Days bled into one another. Or were they weeks? Months? You couldn’t tell anymore. Food was delivered regularly, the plates piling up untouched on the small tray by the door. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, but the idea of eating felt impossible. It reminded you of before, of when Ekko had kissed you, then left you in an agonizing limbo of uncertainty.

Back then, you had at least been free. You could wander through Zaun, trying to escape the heartache in the neon haze of the Undercity. Now, there was no escape. No Ekko. No freedom. Just you and the cold steel cage that held you prisoner.

You sat on the edge of the cot, knees pulled to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The shimmer coursing through your veins was a cruel reminder of what had been done to you. It pulsed like molten fire, burning and twisting your thoughts. Your body ached, muscles spasming unpredictably, leaving you weak and trembling.

The voices were the worst. They came in waves, some screaming accusations, others whispering taunts.

“He’s forgotten you.”

“You’re nothing but a burden.”

“This is what you deserve.”

“Shut up!” you yelled, pressing your palms to your ears. But they didn’t stop. Instead, they multiplied.

“You’ll never see him again.”

“He’s better off without you.”

“You’re better off dead.”

Tears spilled from your eyes, hot against the cold air, as you rocked back and forth. You hated yourself for crying, for being weak, for breaking under their weight. But there was no one here to tell you otherwise. No one to hold you and say it would be okay.

You slammed the back of your head against the wall behind you, the dull thud grounding you for only a moment before the spiral began again. The sobs came harder now, wracking your body as you curled into yourself.

“Leave me alone,” you begged the voices, but they only laughed in response. And then, faintly, you heard something else.

“Hey!” The voice echoed down the corridor outside your cell, distant but distinct. Your head snapped up, your breath hitching as you strained to listen.

“Who’s there?” you croaked, your throat dry and raw from disuse.

The faint sound of footsteps grew louder, steady and purposeful. You squinted into the dim hallway, trying to make out the figure approaching the barred door.

“Leave me alone!” you cried again, shaking your head, convinced it was another hallucination. The shimmer had twisted your mind before; why would now be any different?

But the figure didn’t fade. Instead, it became clearer. Taller. Familiar. The scent of machine oil and faint traces of herbs reached you before the figure did, stirring something deep in your chest. Your heart raced as the figure came closer, the flickering light catching on the unmistakable outline of his goggles, his scarf, the curve of his jaw.

“Ekko?” you whispered, gripping the railing of your cot as you pulled yourself to your feet.

The figure stopped just beyond the bars, his hands curling around them as he leaned forward. “It’s me,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

“No,” you said, shaking your head violently. “You’re not real. You’re just—just another trick!”

“I’m real,” he said, his voice firmer now. “It’s me. See! Look at me.”

You stumbled forward, your legs weak and unsteady, until you reached the door. Your hands gripped the cold metal bars, your eyes searching his face for any hint of deception. But there was none.

“Ekko,” you breathed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

His hand covered yours, warm and grounding. “Hi,” he whispered, his voice thick with relief.

You choked on a sob, your knees buckling as you slid down to the floor. “You’re really here?”

“I’m here,” he said, his other hand slipping through the bars to brush a stray tear from your cheek. “In the flesh.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his palm against your skin a stark contrast to the cold that had consumed you for so long. “I thought…” You hiccupped, struggling to form the words. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I thought the same,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I wasn’t going to stop until I found you.”

Your fingers tightened around his, desperate to hold onto him, to convince yourself that this wasn’t just another cruel trick of your mind. “They said… they said you forgot me.”

“Never,” he said fiercely, his hand gripping yours with equal intensity. “Not even for a split second.”

You buried your face against the bars, your shoulders shaking as the tears came harder. “I’m terrified, Ekko,” you whispered. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“You’re real,” he said, his forehead resting against yours through the bars. “I’m real. And I’m getting you out of here.”

His words wrapped around you like a lifeline, anchoring you to the moment. For the first time in weeks, the voices fell silent. All you could hear was the steady beat of his heart and the unspoken vow in his gaze.

The air in Stillwater Hold was suffocating, thick with the acrid scent of damp metal and the faint tang of saltwater. The dim, flickering lights overhead buzzed like angry insects, casting ghostly shadows on the cold steel walls. Ekko stood outside your cell, gripping the large brass key in his hand, his knuckles white with tension. His mask obscured most of his face, but his eyes burned with fierce determination.

He glanced at you through the bars, his heart breaking at the sight of your frail form. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, your skin pale and your frame too thin. The shimmer’s effects were evident in the faint tremors in your hands and the shadows beneath your eyes, but there was still a spark in your gaze, a fragile but unyielding fire.

He took a steadying breath and inserted the key into the lock, his movements quick but not careless. The lock groaned in protest, a sharp metallic screech echoing in the corridor.

“How did you get that?” you asked, your voice hoarse but laced with curiosity.

Ekko’s lips twitched into a small smirk, though the weight of the moment kept it from fully forming. “Long story,” he said, his tone light but tinged with weariness. He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t press him. You could tell from the shadows in his eyes that whatever he’d done to get here hadn’t been easy.

He jiggled the key, muttering a low curse under his breath. “Of course, it has to be the trickiest damn lock in the whole place,” he murmured. You almost laughed at his frustration, the sound foreign and strange in this place of despair.

Finally, with a heavy clunk, the lock gave way, and the cell door creaked open. Before Ekko could fully process his success, you surged forward, throwing yourself into his arms with all the strength you could muster. The momentum knocked him off balance, and the two of you tumbled to the cold floor, his back hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, the breath knocked out of him for a moment. But then his arms tightened around you instinctively, cradling you against his chest as though you might disappear if he let go.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your thin arms clinging to him desperately. “Don’t let me go,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Of course not,” he whispered, his voice breaking as his hand slid up to cradle the back of your head. He felt how much lighter you were, how your ribs pressed against him like fragile bird bones. It was like holding a shadow of the person he remembered, and it made his chest ache with guilt and sorrow.

Your tears soaked into his scarf as you cried harder, your sobs wracking your frail body. “I thought—I thought I’d never see you again,” you stammered, your words broken by hiccups. “I thought I was going to die here.”

Ekko tightened his hold on you, his jaw clenched so hard it ached. “Not a chance,” he said fiercely, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to stay strong. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your tear-streaked face inches from his. “I missed you so much,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the only thing that kept me going.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The raw emotion in your voice cut through him like a knife, and he cursed himself for not finding you sooner. “Well no need to worry now,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “Im never going to leave your side”

Your arms tightened around him as if you were afraid he might vanish. “I’m never letting you go again,” you vowed, your voice trembling but resolute.

“I wouldn’t let you if you tried,” he replied softly, his lips brushing against your temple as he held you close.

As the flood of emotions began to ebb, a small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corners of Ekko’s mouth. “By the way,” he said, his tone lightening just enough to catch your attention, “your mom’s got some stories.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “My mom?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Xerah Arvino. Fancy name, by the way. She’s got opinions, especially about me.”

You let out a weak laugh, the sound surprising both of you. “What did she say?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, his voice teasing. “She might’ve mentioned how you feel about me. Called you out, really.”

Your cheeks burned, the warmth of embarrassment cutting through the cold that had settled in your body for so long. “She didn’t,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“Oh, she did,” he said, his smirk widening. “Guess she wanted to make sure I wasn’t oblivious.”

Despite your exhaustion, you managed a small laugh. “She’s always been… direct.”

“I like her,” Ekko admitted, his tone softening. “But you, Firefly…” He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the lingering tears. “I knew. I’ve always known.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of them settling over you like a warm blanket. “You did?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“How could I not?” he replied, his voice filled with equal parts affection and disbelief. “You’re my light in the dark. Always have been.”

The warmth of his gaze, the steadiness of his presence, filled the void inside you that had felt so bottomless. For the first time in what felt like forever, you believed you might actually be okay. You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as his hand stroked your back in soothing circles.

The inside of the air duct was surprisingly spacious, though its tight metallic walls didn’t leave much room for comfort. The hum of machinery vibrated through the structure, and the faint scent of oil and rust lingered in the air. Ekko’s hoverboard hummed softly beneath you, its energy signature blending seamlessly with the subdued mechanical symphony of Stillwater Hold.

“Hold on tight,” Ekko whispered, his voice low and cautious as he steadied the hoverboard under both your weight and his. His body was warm against yours, shielding you from the cold draft in the duct. You obeyed, gripping his waist tightly, your heart racing. Not only just from the escape but from the proximity, his warmth body against your own.

The hoverboard glided smoothly, its propulsion barely making a sound as Ekko maneuvered it through twists and turns. He had memorized the map of this place with a precision that made you marvel at his resourcefulness. You couldn’t help but wonder how many sleepless nights he’d spent planning this.

“Almost there,” he said, his voice steady but his grip on the hoverboard controls firm. His tone, though calm, carried the tension of someone who knew there was no room for error.

After what felt like an eternity, the dim blue light of the exit vent came into view. Ekko slowed the board and leaned forward, pressing a hand against the vent cover. It creaked slightly, and for a moment, you both froze, your breaths held. But when no alarms blared, he pushed harder, and the vent cover fell away, clattering onto the concrete outside.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You nodded, your heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through your veins. “Let’s go.”

With a quick adjustment, Ekko angled the hoverboard downward, the two of you sliding out of the duct and into the open air. The cold night breeze hit your face like a splash of water, a stark contrast to the stuffy air of the ducts. The stars twinkled above, unbothered by the chaos below, and for the first time in weeks, you felt the promise of freedom.

It took longer than expected to navigate back to your house. The ride was quiet, each of you lost in your thoughts, the weight of the escape pressing heavily on your shoulders. By the time you arrived, the familiar silhouette of the Arvino estate loomed before you, its elegant structure bathed in pale moonlight.

As you approached, panic flashed through your chest. “Ekko,” you said, your voice urgent. “What if someone sees us?”

“They won’t,” he assured you, his tone confident. “Trust me.”

He steered the hoverboard toward a thick cluster of vines that climbed the side of the house near your bedroom window. Landing softly on the grass, he helped you off the board and gestured toward the vines. “Think you can climb?”

You nodded, though your body was weak from weeks of confinement. His hands hovered near your waist, ready to catch you just in case you were to fall.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

With his help, you made your way up the vines, the rough texture scratching at your hands. When you finally reached the windowsill, you pushed it open and climbed inside, tumbling onto the familiar softness of your room. Ekko followed quickly, landing with a quiet grace that made you roll your eyes at his ease.

The moment your feet hit the carpet, a deep sigh of relief escaped your lips. You turned and launched yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the comfort of your pillow. The softness cradled you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. Kicking your feet excitedly, you let out a laugh that was equal parts relief and joy. “I can’t believe we made it,” you said, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Ekko leaned against the wall, watching you with a soft smile. His arms were crossed, his frame relaxed for the first time all night. “You look happy,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

You turned over, sitting up on the edge of the bed, your feet dangling just above the floor. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you replied, your grin infectious. “I feel like I can breathe again.”

Ekko pushed off the wall and took a few steps toward you, his boots barely making a sound on the plush carpet. His smile remained, but there was something else in his eyes now. Love maybe?

Before you could process his movement, he leaned down, placing his hands on either side of you. The bed dipped slightly under his weight, and suddenly, he was so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His face was mere inches from yours, his breath brushing against your skin.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as his eyes traced your face, lingering on your lips. It was as if he was asking for permission without saying a word. “Hmm…” you whispered to yourself thinking about something, your voice barely audible.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking back up to meet yours. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, as though he was fighting to keep his composure.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. “Yeah. I just…”

“Just what?” he murmured, his lips quirking up in a small, teasing smile.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

But you couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond the way his presence seemed to fill the room. Slowly, as though giving you every chance to pull away, he leaned closer. The world seemed to fade into the background: the room, the night, the fear and chaos of your escape, until there was only him. Standing infront of you, leaning so close that you could feel him breathe.

“Can I?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your lips parted, and you nodded, the motion almost imperceptible. And then his lips were on yours, gentle at first. But the moment your hand slid up to curl into his jacket, he deepened the kiss, his other hand moving to cup the side of your face. The weight of the world seemed to lift in that moment, replaced by a heat that consumed you, chased away the cold and the fear that had gripped you for so long.

Ekko’s breath was warm against your lips, and when he closed the gap between you, it felt like the world tilted on its axis. The kiss was soft at first, an unspoken confession of everything the two of you had held back for the last few months. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him to believe this was real. His lips moved with a desire that sent a shiver down your spine, his fingers gripping your hips as though he never wanted to let go. Your hands slid from his shoulders to his jawline, tracing the sharp angles of his face, grounding yourself in the reality of his handsome face.

"You're lips are so soft," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and thick with emotion.

"I could stay that about yours," you replied breathlessly letting out a small chuckle. Your forehead pressing against his as you both caught your breath.

His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes searching yours. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of this... of you," he admitted, his voice soft but passionate, as though he needed you to understand the depth of his feelings. Of how much he had felt for you ever since the two of you met.

You smiled, a shaky laugh escaping your lips. "Took you long enough to realize," you teased, though your tone was gentle, almost reverent.

His hands slid up your back, pressing you closer, and you could feel the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest. The air between you grew heavier, more charged, as the kiss became desperate. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low sound from him that sent a shiver racing down your spine. The need that had been simmering between you for so long now threatened to boil over, every touch and every breath. Adding to the fire between you further.

You shifted slightly, pressing yourself closer to him, and the sensation made your cheeks flush. His grip on your waist tightened in response, his other hand cupping the back of your neck as he angled your face to deepen the kiss. His movements were urgent but deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every second of this moment, every sound you made, every way your body fit against his.

Ekko's lips left yours, trailing along your jawline and down to your neck, his warm breath sending goosebumps over your skin. His fingers grazed the edge of your shirt, his touch featherlight but electrifying. "I love you," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with restrained emotion. You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access as your hands slid down his back.

Ekko chuckled, leaning forward to press another kiss to your lips, this one slower and filled with something deeper. His hands never stopped moving, one tracing lazy circles on your back, the other brushing strands of hair from your face. This moment felt infinite, like the two of you had carved out a space that existed only for the two of you. It wasn't until the door suddenly swung open, flooding the room with light. Startled, you froze, your lips still brushing Ekko's, as you both turned to see Anya standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh-oh my! I'm so sorry!" she stammered, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to- I was just—"

Before either of you could respond, she quickly turned around, flicking the light off as she shut the door behind her with a hurried, "I'll come back later!"

The room went back into the darkness, the only light coming from the moon outside. You and Ekko stared at the closed door for a second, stunned into silence. Then Ekko broke into a quiet laugh. "Well, that's one way to ruin the mood," he said, looking back at you with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You buried your face in his shoulder, groaning in embarrassment. "I am never going to hear the end of this from her," you muttered, your voice muffled.

He laughed again, the sound vibrating through you as he wrapped his arms tighter around your waist. "Hey, at least she knows you're in good hands," he joked, leaning back slightly to meet your eyes.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. "This isn't funny, Ekko!" you protested, though your tone was far too soft to be convincing.

"Come on," he said, brushing his nose against yours. "It's a little funny."

You couldn't help but laugh then, the tension breaking as you leaned against him, your forehead resting on his. Closing your eyes, the only sound was that of the wind outside.

The early morning light filtered softly through the cracks in the curtains, painting the room in muted hues of gold and pink. The air was still, and there was peace. Ekko’s arm draped securely around your waist as your head nestled against his chest. His warmth was a shield against the cold realities waiting just outside, and in his unconscious state, he held you as if you might disappear. The two of you had found sanctuary, one where, just for a few hours, the chaos of the world couldn’t touch you. The chaos that was caused by just wanting to help others.

That illusion shattered when the door creaked open, followed by the hurried, uneven shuffle of footsteps. The sound pulled Ekko from his slumber instantly. His eyes snapped open, his instincts sharper than ever, and he propped himself up on one elbow just as Anya stumbled into the room. Her hand clutched her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers and staining her dress in it. The sight of her broke through the last remnants of your sleep, and you sat up, a chill running down your spine.

“They… they took her,” Anya gasped, leaning heavily against the doorframe as she shut it behind her. Her voice was strained, trembling from pain and urgency. “Ambessa. She took your mother. They know… they know what she did.”

“Anya.” Ekko was on his feet in seconds, rushing to her side and steadying her before she could collapse. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the panic swirling just beneath the surface. “What the hell happened? You’re hurt—sit down. Let me—”

“No!” Anya interrupted, her voice sharp despite the agony etched across her face. “There’s no time. They’ll come here next. You need to leave. Now.”

You stared at her, frozen in place. Her words echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like they were coming from underwater. Your chest felt tight, your vision narrowing as her message sank in. Your mother. Taken. By Ambessa. It was too much, all of it crashing down like a wave threatening to drown you. You wanted to scream, cry, do something, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. You felt yourself disassociating, retreating into the safety of numbness that you once knew because facing this reality head on was unbearable. As soon as you try to catch a break, there’s always something ruining it. It was almost as if the universe didn’t want to you be happy.

Ekko’s voice broke through the haze. “We can’t just leave you like this!” he said, his frustration mounting as Anya winced and doubled over. He ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt and pressed it against her wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding. “Anya, stay with me. Where is she? Where did they take her?”

“I don't know,” Anya managed, her voice weakening as her knees buckled. “Ambessa… she’s going to lock her away somewhere. She knows what your mother did, how she helped you.” Her gaze shifted to you, her eyes glassy but full of determination. “You need to get out of here before they get here.”

You barely registered the words. The room around you seemed to spin, but you couldn’t focus on anything. Ekko glanced over his shoulder, concern etched across his face as he noticed your vacant expression. “Firefly,” he called softly, but there was no use. Your mind was blocking him completely.

He guided Anya to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands searching for something to stem the bleeding. “Who else was taken?” he asked, his voice steady despite the urgency in his movements.

“Just her,” Anya whispered, wincing as Ekko pressed a cloth against her wound. “I tried to stop them. I swear I did.” She glanced at you then, her eyes filled with an fear that mirrored your own. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get to her.”

You heard the words, but they felt distant, like echoes in a tunnel. Your body moved on autopilot, standing and grabbing a bag, stuffing it with whatever essentials were nearby. Ekko was saying something to you, his voice low and firm, but the words seemed blurred together. It wasn’t until he placed his hands on your shoulders and forced you to meet his eyes that you realized he was trying to snap you out of it.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softening as he searched your face. “We’re getting out of here. You with me?”

You nodded mechanically, though your gaze drifted past him, your focus slipping again. Ekko hesitated, his brow furrowing as he studied you, but there was no time to dig deeper. He turned back to Anya, his jaw tightening. “We’ll get her back,” he promised, though the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

Anya sat there bleeding out with her hand holding her stomach, sadly there was too much blood. This was it for her. Your maid the one who you’ve spend you entire childhood with. Playing dolls, hide and seek, how she would help you with your homework due to yours parents being busy with handling trade routes, businesses and being councilors. You thought of her as an older sister, and now she was gone. Dead. All thanks to Ambessa and your father. That worthless excuse of a father.

After everything that just happened, how were you suppose to enjoy anything. The journey back to the hideout was a blur to you, not even focusing on how you moved above everything. The streets of Piltover passed by in a haze of colors and shapes, the city slowly waking to another day. You stood behind Ekko on his hoverboard, your arms loosely wrapped around his waist, your body moving only when the board shifted beneath you. You didn’t speak, didn’t cry, didn’t even flinch when the wind whipped against your face. The world felt muted, like you were trapped in a dream you couldn’t wake from.

Ekko glanced over his shoulder at you more than once, he had a worried look on his face. He didn’t say anything, every time he caught a glimpse of your glowing pink eyes and their unnatural light, it was a reminder of the shimmer coursing through your veins. He cursed under his breath, his mind racing for a way to bring you back to yourself, to pull you from the darkness that seemed to be consuming you. Slowly dragging you deeper into something he may never be able to help you get out of.

By the time you reached the hideout, the sun was fully up, casting harsh shadows across the abandoned buildings that surrounded the hideout. Ekko helped you down from the hoverboard, his hands lingering on your arms as he steadied you. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t acknowledge him either. He led you inside, the familiar smell filling the air, and guided you to the bed he had made for you when you first arrived.

“Stay here,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be right back.”

You sank onto the bed without a word, your gaze fixed on the floor. Ekko watched you for a moment, his heart aching at the sight of you so lifeless, so unlike the fiery, vibrant person he had fallen for. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and helplessness bubbling beneath his calm exterior.

Hours passed in silence. The hideout was quiet, the usual activity softened as the other firelights gave you and Ekko space. He stayed close by, tinkering with gadgets and pretending not to watch you out of the corner of his eye. You remained in the same spot, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes staring into the middle of the wall.

As night fell, Ekko finally broke the silence. “You need to eat,” he said, setting a plate of food on the table near the bed.

You didn’t respond, and he sighed, pulling a chair closer to sit beside you. “Listen. I get it,” he said softly. “You feel like it’s all slipping away. Like nothing you do will change what’s happening. But sitting here, shutting down—that’s not you. That’s not the fighter I know.”

His words stirred something deep within you, a faint flicker of the person you used to be. You turned to him slowly, your voice hoarse when you finally spoke. “What if I can’t do it?”

Ekko’s expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand in his. “Yes you can,” he said with quiet conviction. “I’m with you every step of the way. We will get your mother back.”

For the first time since the morning, tears welled in your eyes, though they didn’t fall. You nodded, the faintest hint of determination returning to your gaze. Ekko smiled, his grip on your hand tightening briefly before he stood. “Please firefly. Get some rest,” he said.

When you finally lay down that night, it wasn’t on the makeshift bed Ekko had made for you. You slipped under the covers of his bed, your presence wordless but clear. He hesitated for a moment before climbing in beside you, his arms wrapping protectively around you as you curled against his chest.

You were left in awe. The mural was breathtaking. Ekko had worked on it tirelessly for hours, the paintbrush an extension of his hand as he brought Anya’s face to life on the wall of the hideout. Her eyes sparkled with the same determination you remembered, her smile gentle but firm. Behind her, he painted a swirl of warm, golden hues interspersed with fiery reds, symbolizing her unwavering courage even in the face of death. When he stepped back, covered in smudges of paint, he glanced at you with a quiet kind of sadness.

“She deserved this,” Ekko said, his voice low. “She gave everything to protect you. To protect what’s left of your family.”

You nodded, unable to trust your voice. Standing before the mural, you felt the weight of her sacrifice pressing against your chest. A small, fragile part of you hoped that wherever she was now, she could see this tribute, feel the gratitude and respect that burned through your veins. The only family you had left and yourself and your mother. But how long would that last. What if she were to die, who else would you consider family? You surely wouldn’t think of your father. After everything he did to you. No. It was pointless, you had no family.

Ekko turned to you after a long moment of silence, his expression hardening. “We need to talk about rules,” he said firmly.

You looked up at him confused, as your mind left the empty void it was in. “Rules?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on your shoulders. “You’re not to be left alone. Ever. If I can’t be there, one of the Firelights will be with you. It’s non-negotiable.”

The hardness in his tone left no room for argument, but you still tried. “Ekko, I don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted, his eyes boring into yours. “What happened with your mother? With Anya? That was a wake-up call. We can’t afford to take risks anymore.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking in. He was right, but the thought of being under constant watch gnawed at your independence. Still, the raw concern in his expression made it impossible to argue further. But knowing how you were, taking risks was going to hard.

“The second rule,” Ekko continued, “is that we plan carefully before doing anything. No impulsive moves. No rushing in without a backup plan—or two, or three. And if things go south, we need to be ready to evacuate the hideout.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of leaving the hideout behind, but you knew it was a necessary precaution. Ekko wasn’t just thinking about you, he was thinking about everyone who relied on him. All the children.

“I understand,” you said quietly, your fingers twitching at your sides. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Ekko relaxed slightly, though his expression remained serious. “Good. Now, there’s something I need to see.”

He motioned to the necklace you wore, the one he had given you weeks ago. You reached for it, pulling it from beneath your shirt, but your hands trembled too much to unclasp it. Wordlessly, Ekko stepped forward, his calloused fingers brushing against your neck as he worked the clasp.

There was a soft click of the necklace unlocking, making a shiver down your spine. Ekko lingered for a moment, his warm breath brushing against your temple before he pressed a gentle kiss there. His touch was grounding, pulling you out of the haze of fear and exhaustion that had consumed you.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and leading you back to his place. His workspace was cluttered with scraps of metal, gears, and tools, but the centerpiece was a large box that you hadn’t noticed before. Ekko placed the necklace into a small slot on the box, and with a faint sound, the lid unlocked and slid open.

Inside, nestled in protective padding, was a sleek wrist device. It was compact but intricately designed, with glowing blue accents that pulsed faintly. You stared at it, unsure of what you were looking at.

“What is it?” you asked, glancing up at Ekko.

“It’s a prototype,” he explained, a hint of pride in his voice. “Took me months to design, and I nearly got myself blown up more times than I’d like to admit, but I think it’s ready now.”

Concern flickered across your face. “Blown up? Ekko—”

He held up a hand, cutting you off. “Relax, t’s fine. I’ve tested it. No explosions, I promise.”

You frowned but nodded, trusting him despite your apprehension. “What does it do?”

“It’s a utility device,” he said, picking it up and fastening it around your wrist. “It’s got a tracking function, a distress signal, and a shield generator for emergencies. If anything happens, you activate this, and I’ll find you. No matter what.”

You stared down at the device, the weight of it unfamiliar but oddly comforting. “You did all this for me?”

Ekko’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I’d do a lot more if it meant keeping you safe.”

He reached into the box again and pulled out a compact crossbow, its design as sleek and efficient as the wrist device. You stiffened at the sight, your stomach knotting with unease.

“I… I’ve never even held a knife, let alone a weapon,” you admitted, your voice barely whisper.

Ekko looked at you, his expression softening. He placed the crossbow gently on the desk and turned to you, taking both your hands in his. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, grounding you as his dark eyes searched yours.

“I know this isn’t easy,” he said softly. “And I’m not asking you to become a fighter overnight. But things are different now. The people who did this to your mother, to Anya. They won’t stop. We need to make sure you can protect yourself if it comes down to it.”

You glanced down at the crossbow, then back at Ekko. His words made sense, but the thought of hurting someone, even in self-defense, sent a chill down your spine. Still, the determination in his eyes was infectious. He believed in you, and for him, you would try.

“Okay,” you said, your voice firmer this time. “Teach me.”

Ekko’s smile widened, but there was a flicker of relief in his expression as well. “We’ll start slow,” he promised, picking up the crossbow and turning it over in his hands. “It’s lightweight and compact, so it’s easy to handle. And it’s more for precision than brute force, which suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly despite yourself. “Suits me? You saying I’m weak?”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, just saying you’re quick. Smart. You don’t need brute force when you can outthink your opponent.”

He handed you the crossbow, guiding your fingers to the proper grip. His hands were steady as they covered yours, showing you how to aim and adjust the tension on the string. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth of his touch, the way his focus never wavered.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That’s the key. Steady your hands, focus on your target, and breathe.”

You tried to follow his instructions, your fingers trembling slightly as you raised the crossbow. It felt strange in your hands, foreign and dangerous, but Ekko’s presence steadied you.

After a few practice movements, Ekko took a step back, watching you with a mix of pride and caution. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said, crossing his arms. “And when you do, no one’s gonna mess with you.”

You set the crossbow down carefully, exhaling a shaky breath. “Thank you,” you said, meeting his gaze. “For everything. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

Ekko shook his head, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. “You don’t have to repay me,” he said quietly. “Just promise me you’ll stay alive. That’s all I need.”

The weight of his words hung between you, heavy with unspoken emotion. You nodded, swallowing hard. “I promise.”

Satisfied, Ekko reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled back, gesturing to the desk. “We’ll go over more later. For now, you should relax.”

You nodded, suddenly aware of how exhausted you felt. The events of the past few days had taken their toll, and your body ached for sleep. Ekko led you to the corner of the hideout where your shared bed was now set up. You were tired for days, beyond exhaustion. Surprisingly now, you liked to sleep. Maybe, it was because of your lack of energy.

As you lay down, Ekko pulled a blanket over you, his movements careful and deliberate. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “Stay with me,” you whispered.

Ekko hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He kicked off his boots and slid under the blanket beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. His warmth was comforting, and as you rested your head on his chest, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Zaun. The streets were always treacherous with now people lingered around. Dangerous people. You were walking back from a short supply run as the sun began to set over the horizon, the weight of the crossbow slung across your back almost forgotten as your mind wandered. Ekko’s words about being cautious echoed in your head. Always make a plan, always think before you act. He had drilled that rule into you countless times, but none of it mattered when you turned a corner and saw the scene in front of you.

A little girl, no older than seven, was backed against a crumbling wall, her tiny frame trembling. Two men loomed over her, their gruff laughter echoing down the alley as they taunted her. She clutched a stuffed toy to her chest, her eyes wide with terror. One of the men reached for her arm, and without thinking, you moved.

Your crossbow was in your hands before you realized it, the familiar weight grounding you. The shimmer coursing through your veins dulled your hesitation, sharpening your focus. The first arrow struck the shoulder of the man closest to the girl, a sickening thud silencing his laughter as he staggered back with a howl of pain. The second arrow found the leg of the other man, sending him crumpling to the ground. You moved quickly, reloading and taking aim again, though neither man seemed eager to continue.

“Get out of here,” you growled, your voice cold and unyielding. The men scrambled to their feet, one limping heavily as they disappeared into the shadows without a backward glance.

The girl was still pressed against the wall, her tiny hands clutching her stuffed toy so tightly her knuckles were white. You knelt down in front of her, setting the crossbow aside. “Hey,” you said gently, trying to soften your tone. “It’s okay now. They’re gone.”

Her eyes darted to the weapon lying on the ground, then back to your face. “You… you hurt them that,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard, the weight of what you’d done sinking in. “I had to,” you said softly. “They weren’t going to leave you alone. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, her grip on the toy loosening slightly. “No. Thank you, miss lady.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps behind you made you tense. You turned to see Ekko, his expression a mixture of relief and frustration. Of course, he would show up. He always did. You noticed the small device in his hand and realized with a sinking feeling that it was a tracker. He must have known the second you fired the crossbow.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, his voice low but firm as he approached you. “I told you to think before you act, to make a plan.”

You looked down at the girl, then back at Ekko. “She needed help,” you said simply, your voice steady despite the guilt creeping in. “I couldn’t just stand there.”

Ekko sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he crouched beside you. His gaze softened when he looked at the girl. “Hey there,” he said gently. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Mila,” she said quietly.

“Well, Mila,” Ekko said, offering her a small smile. “You’re safe now. No one else is going to hurt you.”

The girl nodded, her shoulders relaxing just a little. You reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Do you have any family, Mila? Anyone we can take you to?”

Her expression darkened, and she shook her head. “My mom… she died a long time ago. And my dad…” She trailed off, her voice cracking. “He left. He didn’t want me.”

By hearing those words. Gosh it hit you like a punch to the gut, your breath catching in your throat. You glanced at Ekko, who was watching you carefully, his brow furrowed. He knew what you were thinking. Your father had abandoned you too, leaving you to fend for yourself in a world that was cruel and unforgiving. Mila’s pain was all too familiar to you.

You cleared your throat, trying to push the memories away. “Mila,” you said softly, “would you like to come with us? We have a safe place where you can stay.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like she didn’t believe you. “Really?”

“Really,” Ekko said, his voice warm and reassuring. “You’ll be safe with us. I promise.”

Mila hesitated, then nodded, clutching her toy tightly. “Okay.”

You helped her to her feet, glancing at Ekko as the three of you started back toward the hideout. His expression was unreadable, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. He waited until Mila was a few steps ahead before leaning closer to you.

“We need to talk about this later,” he murmured, his tone serious but not unkind.

“I know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’d do it again.”

Ekko sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out and gently squeezed your hand. The gesture was enough to remind you that, no matter how angry or worried he might be, he was still on your side.

When you arrived at the hideout, the Firelights greeted Mila with curiosity and kindness, their youthful energy helping to put her at ease. You showed her to a quiet corner where she could rest, and Ekko gave one of the older Firelights instructions to keep an eye on her. Then he turned to you, his expression serious.

“Come with me,” he said, leading you to his workshop. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against the closed door, crossing his arms. “We need to talk.”

“I know,” you said, sitting down on the edge of the workbench. “I broke the rules. I acted without thinking. But, Ekko, she’s just a kid. I couldn’t let them hurt her.”

“I get it,” he said, his voice softer now. “I do. But you can’t just jump into situations like that without a plan. What if they’d had weapons? What if they’d hurt you?” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose you again y'know.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. You stood and crossed the room, placing a hand on his arm. “You won’t,” you said firmly. “But I can’t stand by and do nothing when someone needs help and you know that. Its not who I am.”

Ekko nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours. “From now on, you need to be careful. Promise me that will you.”

“I promise,” you said, and this time, you meant it.

Ekko pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close to his body. He really did love hugging you. It’s not like you minded anyways, the way he hold you every time he did was endearing.

Shining bright through the sun was heavy as it seeped through the windows. Casting warm beams of light onto the small play area you and Ekko had carved out for the kids. Mila was a different child than the one you had brought in a few days ago. Her cheeks were fuller, a healthy glow replacing the pallor of malnourishment. Her hair, now free of dirt and tangles, was neatly braided in a style one of the older Firelights had taught her. She wore clean, simple clothes that fit her nicely, and the sight of her beaming smile was enough to make your heart swell. You began to love her as a little sister. One who needs to be protected from the harsh world.

You and Ekko sat cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by a mix of giggling children who were eager to show off their toys as they invent new games. Mila gravitated toward you, her tiny hands tugging at your sleeve as she laughed at something one of the kids said. Her joy was infectious, and for the first time, you felt a lightness in your chest that had been absent since everything began. One that only appeared when you would share special moments with ekko, or in the past when you would make memories with your mother and anya.

“Watch this!” Mila declared, holding up a toy dragon that one of the Firelights had carved from wood. She mimicked the sound of its roar, moving it around in exaggerated loops. The other kids burst into laughter, and so did you, unable to resist the sheer enthusiasm radiating from her.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Ekko teased, leaning back on his hands as he watched her antics. “Maybe we should make you our official storyteller.”

“Really?” Mila’s eyes widened, the idea filling her with excitement. “Can I, can I?”

“Of course,” you said with a soft laugh, though your voice came out a bit sharper than you intended. Mila didn’t seem to notice, but Ekko shot you a quick, concerned glance. The shimmer was still in your system, subtle but nevertheless present. It would sometimes heighten your senses, making you jittery. It was like holding a storm inside you, and no matter how hard you tried, it bled through the cracks sometimes.

Mila tugged your sleeve again, pulling your attention back to her. “What’s your favorite story? I can tell it to everyone!”

You hesitated, the warmth in your chest flickering. “Maybe later,” you said, your tone sharper than before. “Let’s keep it quiet for now.”

Mila frowned, her brow furrowing slightly. “But we’re not being loud—”

“I said keep it down!” The words snapped out of you before you could stop them, your voice harsh and biting. The shimmer roared in your veins, amplifying your frustration to a level that felt almost unbearable. Mila flinched, her toy dragon slipping from her hands to the ground. The head of the dragon broke from its body, and you watched as it rolled towards your feet. The other kids fell silent, their wide eyes darting between you and the little girl.

Mila’s bottom lip quivered, her hands trembling as she reached for the dragon. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She clutched the toy to her chest and bolted from the group, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Silence. It was suffocating. The other kids stared at you, their expressions a mix of confusion and fear. Ekko was on his feet in an instant, his eyes blazing as he grabbed your arm and pulled you aside. Away from prying eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he hissed, keeping his voice low but firm. “She’s a kid, and you just yelled at her like she did something awful.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said quickly, guilt clawing at your chest. “It’s the drug—it’s messing with my head. I didn’t mean to scare her.”

“You need to get it under control,” Ekko said, his tone softening but still stern. “The poor girl looks up to you. She trusts you. You can’t let the drug make you into someone she could afraid of.”

You nodded, your throat tightening as you looked in the direction Mila had run. “I’ll talk to her,” you said quietly. “I’ll make it right, okay?”

Ekko nodded, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before letting go. “You’d better,” he said, though his voice held more concern than anger. “She needs you to be better than this.”

Taking a deep breath, you followed the faint sound of Mila’s sniffles to a secluded corner of the hideout. She was curled up on the floor, her back to the wall and her headless toy dragon clutched tightly in her arms. Her small shoulders shook with quiet sobs, and the sight made your chest ache.

“Mila,” you said softly, kneeling down a few feet away from her. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look at you, her face buried in the dragon’s wooden wings. “You yelled at me,” she said, her voice muffled but heavy with hurt. “I didn’t mean to be loud…”

“I know,” you said, your voice thick with regret. “I wasn’t angry at you, Mila. I’m just… not feeling like myself today but hat’s not an excuse. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m so sorry for scaring you.”

Mila peeked up at you, her tear-streaked face breaking your heart. “You promise you’re not mad?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes i promise you that,” you said, reaching out slowly. She didn’t pull away when you rested a hand on her knee. “You’ve been so brave and strong since you came here, Mila. I’m really proud of you. And I’m really, really sorry for making you feel like you did something wrong.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, she reached out and placed her tiny hand on top of yours. “Okay,” she said softly. “I forgive you.”

Relief flooded through you, and you pulled her into a gentle hug. She wrapped her arms around your neck, her headless toy dragon squished between you. “You’re my favorite grown-up,” she whispered, her voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

You laughed softly, the sound tinged with emotion. “Well, you’re my favorite storyteller,” you said, pulling back just enough to see her face. “How about we go back and tell the others a story? You can even make one up about a scary headless dragon.”

Mila’s eyes lit up, her earlier sadness melting away. “Okay!” she said, her smile returning in full force. “But you have to help me make it really good.”

“Deal,” you said, standing and taking her hand. As you walked back to the play area together, you glanced over your shoulder to see Ekko watching from a distance, a small smile tugging at his lips. As you stood beside mila and the other kids, you somehow managed to glue the head back to the headless dragon. Now it wasn’t headless anymore. Mila looked up at you, thanking you for fixing her dragon. A smile crept up her face. Even thought it was a small gesture of kindness after you made her cry, she thought it was a big deal. It was precious how mila would think even the smallest things were the best thing. Adorable.

You definitely knew that you still had work to do on yourself. To control your emotions and impulses but as well as being a person Mila could to look up to. However as her laughter rang out again, you felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could be that person after all.

But was it true? The lines between reality and fiction began to converge. It all made sense as the waterfall’s thunder filled your ears. You stood motionless on the ledge, staring at the mirror-like surface of the lake below. Your reflection rippled faintly, distorted by the spray of water. You didn’t see yourself as you were, but only what you feared you had become. Mila’s tear-streaked face flashed in your mind, her sobs echoing louder than the rushing water. The guilt felt unbearable, pressing against your chest like a weight you couldn’t lift. Your trembling fingers brushed against the edge of the rocky ledge, the cold biting into your skin. A sob escaped your throat as tears fell freely, mingling with the mist around you. You apologizing to mila and fixing her headless dragon was all fake. Your mind imagined it. So right now mila was sad, hiding in a corner as she cried. What a horrible person i am.

“Maybe they’d all be better off without me,” you whispered to the air, your voice trembling as it was swallowed by the roar of the falls. The words left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through your mind. You had tried, tried so hard to fit in, to make Zaun feel like home. Yet every mistake, every outburst reminded you that you didn’t belong. The Firelights were kind, but they didn’t understand you. Mila didn’t deserve your anger, and Ekko didn’t deserve the chaos you continued to bring into to his life. You stepped closer to the edge, the rocks shifting beneath your feet.

The world seemed to narrow as you took another step forward, your gaze fixed on the lake below. You fell silently, the cold air rushing past you before the icy water enveloped you like a second skin. The cold was shocking at first, stealing your breath, but then everything went quiet. You sank deeper, the surface growing distant as the weight of the water pressed in from all sides. The noise in your head didn’t stop, though. It only grew louder, something you couldn’t escape.

Images of your mother flickered in your mind, her smile fading like a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto. Anya’s laughter echoed, only to be drowned out by the sharp voice of your father. You’re not good enough. You never will be. The words clung to you like chains, dragging you deeper into the lake. You thought of Piltover and how it had abandoned you. Whereas with Zaun, you were nothing more than an outsider. Even here, even with Ekko, you felt like a burden. The water cradled you, its silence deceptive as your body floated aimlessly. You closed your eyes, hoping for darkness, for peace, but it didn’t come. Nothing was ever easy for you.

Instead, the world exploded in sound, a loud splash followed by muffled movements cutting through the water. You opened your eyes to see a figure diving toward you, moving with urgency. Ekko. His form was unmistakable even through the distorted water. He was always saving you after you do something stupid. How long would this last? When would it be the last time that he would save you?

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you upward with a strength you couldn’t resist. You felt the rush of cold air as he broke the surface, his grip on you tightened as he dragged you to the shore. His breaths came heavy, his movements frantic as he laid you down on the damp grass.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. He crouched over you, his hands gripping your shoulders as his eyes searched your face. “Do you even understand what you just did?”

You turned your head away, unable to meet his gaze. “I—I didn’t mean for you to find me,” you said weakly, your voice trembling. “I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m tired of feeling like this.”

“That’s not an excuse!” His voice cracked, his frustration palpable. “You don’t get to just give up! And leave me like that.” He paused, taking a shaky breath before softening his tone. “Damn it.”

A small voice broke the tense silence. “Why did you do it?” Mila stood a few feet away, her eyes wide and tearful as she clutched her arms tightly. “Did I do something wrong? Was it because of me?”

Your chest tightened, the guilt suffocating as you shook your head. “No, Mila. No. It wasn’t your fault,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong. I let my anger get the best of me, and I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Mila hesitated, her small hands twisting nervously in front of her. “You said you cared about me. But then you yelled… I thought…” Her words trailed off, her voice breaking.

Ekko placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “It’s not your fault, Mila,” he said gently. “Sometimes grown-ups do stupid things when they’re hurting. But that doesn’t mean we stop caring. You’ve gotta trust me on that.” He glanced at you pointedly, his meaning clear.

You sat up slowly, your body trembling from the cold. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, this time to both of them. “I was selfish, and I wasn’t thinking about what it would do to you. I never wanted to hurt either of you.”

Mila stepped closer, hesitating before reaching out to touch your hand. “Are you gonna be okay now?” she asked softly, her voice still uncertain.

You nodded, tears threatening to fall down your face as you squeezed her hand gently. “I’ll try to be. I promise.”

Ekko sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he helped you to your feet. “We need to find something to help you with this,” he said firmly. “I need the old you back. I want my firefly back.”

There was no way that a cure for shimmer exists in Zaun. And even if it did, even if someone had it, they wouldn’t give it up that easily. Not without a fight. Maybe you had to deal with your new life, the one were you were unstable and unpredictable. How can someone love a person like this. How can someone do deserving of something better like ekko deserve a person like you?

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The Forgotten Sister

Chapter II — IV

Pairing: Ekko x Fem!Reader

Tags: Minimal use if Y/N, no specific description of the reader, friends to lovers, CW swearing, CW blood, CW injury, CW violence, CW guns, TW death

A/N: This took me forever to figure out how to not make too dialogue dependent 😰

Chapter III

...this is Caitlyn?

You thought to yourself. Watching her glower and glare from her spot on the dirty steel floor. This, even though she was, quite literally, free. Free from both the dirty rag bag over her head and the rusty but well-oiled cuffs that would have kept her hands behind her back. She continued, saying something that, paired with her low tone and your lack of focus, you missed. After all, rather than listening to an untrustworthy Piltie enforcer prattle on about heroics, your attention shifted to the subtle movement from the corner of your eye instead. Vi, who opted to lean against the wall just far enough to stay hidden from view while being within earshot, had the most shit-eating grin on her face. She slapped a hand over her face as she tried to stifle the silent giggles that shook her shoulders violently.

"...it's me you want," you catch Caitlyn say as Vi, as if on cue, finally steps into view. Leaning against the door frame with the same shit-eating grin as before.

"My hero~" Vi swoons playfully.

Caitlyn stutters and stammers, flustered and exasperated but relieved all the same. You would have found the banter between them funny, adorable even, except for the fact that your brain couldn't wrap around the fact that your sister...Vi!...had fallen in with a Piltie. And, to add salt to the wound, said blue-haired Piltie, also happened to be an enforcer! It left a funky aftertaste on your tongue just thinking about it.

"Vi says we can trust you," Ekko interjects, eyes hard and icy as he glares at the woman still seated on the floor.

"You get a pass back topside, that's it. Let's go,"

Ekko stands up from his spot on the door's edge and nods at you, then at Vi, before maneuvering between you and moving back towards the tree. You look towards Caitlyn, letting your eyes roam over her features. You study how her shoulders tensed, her breathing slowed, her eyes twitched, and even how her brows knitted in the middle of her forehead. No blatant deception...at least, not yet. With a huff, you turn to hobble after Ekko.

"Who are you!? " Caitlyn asks, her voice bouncing off the steel wall of the makeshift prison, vibrating and echoing.

You stop, slowly turning slightly. The sun shining against you, casting a shadow of your side profile on the floor, you say, almost in a whisper, "Ironic, isn't it? The same group your people have been hunting for for years now welcomes you into their hideout. You'd be black and blue if the other Firelights had their way. But you got to my sister first. Our leader trusts her more than you..."

Slowly, you shuffle your way toward Ekko, who waits with his hand outstretched, ready to catch you should your knee buckle and you stumble. You smile at him, gently...lovingly, sliding your own into his, letting him guide you to stand beside him. The two other girls moved slowly towards you. Vi kept pace with Caitlyn as she took in her surroundings with awe and wonder. It's not an unusual reaction, but one that is more than welcomed. Everyone who ever stepped foot in the hideout for the first time always had the same look of amazement plastered on their faces. And every time, it never failed to make you proud. Knowing that seven long years of pain, effort, and hard work had paid off with each "woah" that would leave their jaw-dropped mouths.

"It's beautiful..."

"If your people had their way, it'd be a pile of rubble and ash..." Ekko says bitterly.

Your hand gently squeezes his, trying to keep him calm, as the words falling from Caitlyn's lips fuel his anger. Tension begins to rise as he squares his shoulders in rage. But your touch does little to stifle Ekko's furry at Caitlyn's next words.

"That's not possible...you're wrong."

Ekko pulls away from you, marching towards the taller blue-haired woman before him. Ready to butt heads and let fists fly at the sheer bullshit of her words. You try to call his name, but it falls on deaf ears.

"You say that one more time..."

Heat builds as both sides stand their ground. Each glaring at the other before Vi finally steps in between them. Pushing the two a few spaces away from one another. Quickly, you take hold of Ekko by his elbow, pulling him closer towards you. Increasing the distance between the two hot heads. You'd rather avoid a full-on brawl if you can. Being on the ground doesn't allow easy access to a med kit from the infirmary on the third floor of the tree. Looking towards you, Vi sighs your name before turning to Ekko and doing the same. Calling his attention

"Guys...she believes in what she's saying, okay? She's not your enemy," Vi says defensively.

"Oh, yeah?" Ekko scoffs, "Then what's this?"

From the glass canister hanging on his waist by the sling over his shoulder, he pulled out a beautiful blue orb no bigger than the average marble. It was strange-looking, yet it felt ethereal. It glowed this beautiful hue of blue as streaks of glittering lights swirled within like a galaxy of stars. You've never seen the likes of it before, never even heard of it. And, judging by the expression on Ekko's face, neither has he. Shuffling closer, you press against his back as you peer over his shoulder with curious eyes. Watching, mesmerized as the orb shimmered where the sun's rays would refract from its smooth, round surface as Ekko rolled it between his gloved fingertips. However, you were roughly jostled out of your reverie as Ekko recoiled, almost accidentally elbowing you in the process, from something Caitly said that you failed to catch.

"What is it?" you and your sister ask in unison, albeit with varying tones and intentions. While yours was asked more out of curiosity, Vi was her usual aggressive self. Almost angrily demanding an explanation.

"It's a gemstone...it was stolen during the attack...by your sister," Caitlyn explains delicately. Quite hesitantly. An understandable approach, considering Vi's very pissed-off rebuke.

"You just forgot to mention that?!"

Jinx...

That was twice now that you've heard of her in one day. And from two separate people from two opposing ends. Something big had to be happening. You hadn't the slightest idea what, but with her, it could be anything. And anything with Jinx was always spelled with trouble...the messy kind of trouble.

"With this, someone with the right knowledge could build any hextech device," Caitlyn continues, "If the enforcers are becoming more aggressive...that's why,"

...hextech...

If this small stone is the key to building hextech, it may be your ticket to saving lives. Saving the hideout, the Lanes, Zaun! If Ekko could find a way to manipulate it, use it...

...we could beat Silco with this...

You thought to yourself...or at least...you thought that you did. Apparently not, though, as all faces turn to you. Ekko, especially, nodded in agreement. Apparently, you said that out loud and maybe a bit too loud.

"That won't solve things," Caitlyn replies to you somberly.

"That's easy for you to say..." You grumble, "You aren't the one with blood on your hands...watching it drip down your fingers as people you promised you'd save die all around you!"

"Look, it's wrong what's been done to you..." Caitlyn says, "You'd be within your rights to keep it. I couldn't blame you. But...if you do, this cycle of violence will never stop."

She speaks of "setting the record straight", Zaun needing "healing", and how she just so happens to have a friend on the council who would "listen". The same sob stories you'd heard before. The same exact words that people would throw around like a ball in a game of catch. Toying with you, who worked hard to make these words a reality. The only difference now was the leverage Ekko held in his fingertips. The gemstone...hextech...maybe...just maybe...they'll finally listen. They'll finally see reason, the truth, and put a stop to all the shit that Zaun and its people were left to deal with on their own. Beside you, you catch Ekko giving you a sideways glance. A familiar expression, one that you have come to know very well. He's made up his mind.

"One condition. I'm the one who gives it to them," He says resolutely.

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed chapter 2!!

@silas-222, @scarletrosesposts, @f1nnfyuu, @rinisfruity14, @vicurious28, @thebiggestsimpoutthere, @miharuki, @mirophobic, @sundaybossanova

The Forgotten Sister

Chapter I - III

Pairing: Ekko x Fem!Reader

Tags: Minimal use of Y/N, no specific description of the reader, friends to lovers, CW swearing, CW blood, CW injury, CW violence, CW guns, TW death

A/N: I might have gotten carried away with how long this got…

Chapter II

"I missed you too..."

Feeling your sobs begin to calm and your eyes begin to puff from all the tears that cascaded down your cheeks, you gingerly take a small step back without entirely leaving your sister's embrace. Just enough to finally get a proper look at the face that changed with time. Vi was undoubtedly no longer the girl you remember looking up to as a child. The soft roundness of her cheeks that came with childhood was now replaced by sharp, hard lines with scars in places that weren't there before. And yet, despite the changes brought about by years apart, Vi looked... young. Like she hadn't lived with the chaos that covered Zaun like a blanket. Like she hadn't seen the death and destruction that followed as Silco flooded the Lanes with his damn shimmer.

"Where have you been all these years?" you ask, voice still trembling with emotion as your thumb traces over the tattoo on her cheekbone.

"I was... I was in Stillwater... But that doesn't matter! All that matters is that I'm here now." Vi says, head tilting lovingly into your touch.

"You were in Stillwater? All this time? Why?! H-how did you get out?"

"... someone... got me out,"

"It's the enforcer, isn't it?" Ekko says suddenly.

Having stood quietly from the side and letting you two sisters have your moment, a reunion long since overdue. Having watched with a soft chuckle as you bawled your eyes out and wet snot dripped down your chin. But now he stood with his stance firm and stiff. Arms crossed against his chest as the steel mask of a leader clicked into place on his handsome face.

"...an enforcer?" You gasp, involuntarily stepping away from your sister's embrace.

Your body physically recoiled from Vi, like her touch shimmered itself. Vi whispers your name, hurt flashing across her face at your visceral reaction.

But she didn't understand. She didn't know. The blood that painted your hands red and the disgusting sticky feeling that came with it from all the people who bled at your doorstep. People whose lives you so desperately tried to save as they lay dying. Beaten half to death by fucking enforcers. Some of them were sanctioned by Piltover, while others were greedy fuckers with pockets heavy with Silco's coin. And they said fissure folk were the shitty ones.

She doesn't know...

You tried to reason with yourself. But feelings of disgust and betrayal filled you faster than you could stop them. You take another step back, moving in line with Ekko. Gone was the love, replaced by suspicion and mistrust. The man beside you bumps his shoulder against yours, pulling your attention. You look at each other in silent conversation. He tilts his head in a gesture to somewhere, yet nowhere in particular. The movement you follow with a flick of your eyes, immediately knowing the message behind it. An understanding passed between you two confirmed with a nod.

"There's something we gotta show you," Ekko says to Vi before moving to lead the way.

You hobble after him silently, your cane thumping against the wooden floor, ignoring the confusion splayed on Vi's face. Seeing that none of you two were planning to explain anything further, she rushes to follow after. Opting to lag a bit ways behind. Taking in the view around her. A view so different than what you'd usually expect from Zaun. The sun bathed the base with a beautiful, bright glow. Its warmth touching the skin of her cheek as it peaked through the leaves. Children laughed and played, chasing after one another beneath the shade of firelight leaves. People walked and talked about, free from worry and strife. It was beautiful. Amazing what the group has accomplished in seven years. A small hidden reprieve from the chaos of the Lanes.

At the last set of stairs down the tree, steeper and more uneven than the rest, Ekko offers his elbow to you like clockwork. Carefully, you clamber down the steep stairs. Hand gripping tightly onto Ekko's forearm as your weak knee wobbled with every step. Vi rushes to hold onto you, hand about to reach for your other arm, when Ekko stops her with a chuckle.

"She'll smack you if you do that. And besides," he says, eyes looking towards you. Lovingly... longingly. A gaze much unbeknownst to you as you grunted at the feel of uncomfortable pressure straining against your knee at each step.

"She's doing great,"

"Damn right. My knee won't get stronger being babied," you hiss, taking another shaky step down onto the floor.

Finally...

You breathe a sigh of relief at the feeling of solid ground beneath your feet that doesn't quake or buckle at the slightest tremble of your knee.

Ekko really needs to fix these last few steps...

They wobbled too much for your liking. And they creaked in weird places that always made you antsy. Yep, he definitely needs to fix these. The man in question has stopped beside you, arm still outstretched, waiting as you find your bearings.

"You alright?" He whispers.

"Yeah, thank you for being such an excellent handrail." You whisper teasingly, giving his arm a playful pinch before letting go.

Ekko chuckles, shaking his head as he trudges forward a few paces before stopping. You follow, hobbling to a stop beside him. Eyes forward, looking at the slab of wall that makes up a part of the tree. A mural. A place of homage. A reminder of what you've all had to sacrifice.

"This is everyone that we've lost..." Ekko says, his voice somber as he looks at the colorful, familiar faces on the wall. Faces of loved ones, faces of lost ones... lost... but never forgotten.

"The price of our freedom..." you sigh.

"Some of it was enforcers... most was Silco."

Ekko wraps a pinky around yours. For comfort, you reckoned. But you weren't sure if he meant for you or for himself.

"Your sister works for him not because she has to but because she wants to."

Vi looks away. Expression torn, hurt. And your heart ached for her.

"I see you've found Jinx,"

"Her name is Powder... You're her sister! How can you call her that?"

"She hasn't been Powder in a long time, Vi,"

"So? Are you gonna ask me to leave her?! Is that what you did?!”

In a rush of fury, she lunges at you, hands grabbing onto the lapels of your coat, pulling you roughly towards her. Knuckles holding tight as you watched them turn white. Vi locked eyes with yours. A fire blazing hot behind those baby blues. But they did not burn you. Tone, cold as ice, you spit your next words, sharp like a knife. Meant to cut, meant to bleed.

"I... wasn't the one who left."

Vi breathes a heavy sigh like a fire doused with a bucket of cold water. Gently releasing you before stepping away, hiding her face behind the length of her hair. Ekko steps behind you as you stumble, steadying you. Eyes roaming over yours in worry, only calming once you gave him a nod.

You were alright...

"Look, Vi, I don't blame you for being gone. But you were gone for so long... things have changed. We, have changed,"

You step towards her, hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it.

"Besides, we still have that... enforcer... friend of yours."

"Seems like I just keep making you mad today,"

"I remember it being... a unique talent of yours,"

Vi breathes an airy chuckle, turning to face you. Looking at you, like seeing you for the first time. You used to be so small, so frail. Someone she needed to protect. Like Powder... But now, look at you... You still limped, yes, but you stood tall. Eyes sharp, hands strong and steady. And you didn't take shit from anyone. You really grew up without her.

Turning towards Ekko, Vi says, "Her name is Caitlyn. She's after Silco. It's why she got me out in the first place. You can trust her. I promise."

You and Ekko give each other a look. Another silent conversation ensues. He nods, and you nod back.

"Alright, come on," he says before moving forward. You trailing behind him.

You both lead Vi through a tunnel-like vent in the wall, an exhaust pipe opening large enough for people to pass through. There, you find two boys, Mach and Tun, playing around. Pulling at their cheeks, making funny faces, and challenging the other to hold their laugh the longest. The same two boys who were supposed to be watching over the makeshift prison cell.

"Hey! How's our guest?" Ekko says, greeting the boys who squealed in excitement at the sight of him.

They scream his name happily as they run around him in excited circles before jumping towards you, pulling at the hem of your shirt, almost making you stumble.

"She's loud,"

"She shouts a lot,"

The two boys giggle in unison.

"Alright, you two, let's get her outta there," Ekko says, chuckling as the boys give a resounding "Yessir!".

Pulling down their masks, they race for the keys hanging on a hook beside the door. Pushing and shoving each other for it before Tun finally gets a hold of them with a triumphant "Yes!". Slotting the key into the lock, the gears turn and unlock with a click as the door swings open with a loud squeak. Inside, handcuffed to a statue in the center of the room, was a girl with a sack still tied around her head. Her identity may be hidden, but her role is betrayed by the golden edges of her uniform. Hidden by whatever she wore on top, it glinted where the light would hit. Shining despite the darkness of the room.

She grunted as she fought against her restraints, wiggling about and head snapping to the sound of something swinging open somewhere she couldn't see. To Tun's annoyance, Mach successfully grabs the keys from his hands and runs into the room, undoing the cuffs before pulling the sack off her head. Eyes blinking at the sudden glare, her hazy vision lands on the hand in front of her. A hand fully intending to help her up. The moment her eyes cleared, she slaps the offending appendage away. Mach gasps at the impact, moving away towards you and Ekko by the door. The woman's eyes follow the movement. Her sharp eyebrows pinched as her deep blue eyes narrowed, she glared at the two of you with all the anger she could muster.

"What have you done with Vi?"

... this is Caitlyn?

Also, thank you to those who thought chapter 1 was worth reading!!

@silas-222

@scarletrosesposts

The Forgotten Sister

Pairing: Ekko x Fem!Reader

Tags: Minimal use of Y/N, no specific description of the reader, friends to lovers, CW blood, CW injury, CW, violence, CW guns, TW death.

A/N: Soo I just couldn't wait! My brain was goin into hypersimp

Prologue — Chapter II

Chapter 1

It's been seven years since then. You've grown and changed. Granted, your leg remained weak, leaving you limping, but the rest grew strong. Responsibility tends to have that effect on the people who bear it. Almost immediately after Ekko founded the Firelights, group consensus made you the resident saw-bones.

How? You hadn't the slightest idea. You did, however, have a lingering suspicion that Ekko had a hand in it. Especially with his vastly exaggerated recounting of the time you popped back Vi's dislocated wrist after she thought it would look cool to punch a concrete wall with her bare knuckles. Although you initially accepted the role reluctantly, you performed it in great stride. Applying everything you knew from your own experience as a sickly child while learning the rest from tomes Ekko would you bring every now and then from their scavenges. You grew to become a pretty skilled makeshift doctor. From common colds to bullet wounds, everyone entrusted their lives to you. Ekko, most of all. 

And today was supposed to be just another day as a makeshift doctor. 

Just beneath a set of branches on the firelight tree stood your infirmary. Big enough only to house ten patients at a time, it was considered one of the largest areas in the hideout. It might not have been the prettiest, made up of strewn-together sheets of steel and wood bolted at the seams, but it did just fine. Inside, standing in front of a row of cabinets, assumingly counting the stock of medical supplies, was you. Your lab coat swayed with the gentle breeze that drafted in from the open doorway. The wooden floorboards slightly squeaking as you leaned against your cane. Mind adrift to the events from earlier that morning. 

"You be careful out there, Ekko. Salve and bandages can only do so much," you say, stuffing his right jacket pocket with supplies.  Bandages, salves, ties for bleeding, pain meds... were you missing something?

"You make it sound like you haven't saved lives with those," he chuckles.  

Noticing the subtle trembling of your hand, Ekko reaches for it. Pausing your mission to stuff his pocket with the whole infirmary and instead giving it a gentle squeeze in the hopes of comforting you. It always worried you every time they went out on missions. They never ended cleanly. Some would never come back. While others would end up rushed into a cot in the infirmary. Their blood soaking the floor, staining it red. It was never a pretty sight. 

"Salve won't magically close bullet wounds or weld back hacked-off arms," you bite back, returning his comfort with your own. 

"Just... come back home. In one piece, preferably," you say, looking up at him. 

"We will, Firelight," he replies, gently bumping his forehead against yours. Closing his eyes as he breathed in the scent of you. Antiseptic and lavender. Weird, but uniquely you. 

You did the same. Basking in his warmth, in the feel of him. Letting the butterflies flutter in your gut as you felt the tips of your ears flush. After a moment, you step away from each other. Confident and resolute. Ekko gave you a firm nod before walking away... 

"-C! DOC!" A voice boomed, snapping you out of your reverie with a squeak of surprise. 

A man stood beside you. He had large wing-like ears and a cut pink button nose that looked out of place on his gruff face. Scar. 

"Geez! You scared me! And when did you get here?" you say. 

"I've been calling for you since I got in here. Get your head back on your shoulders. You got a few to patch up. Nothing serious this time, " he said as three boys from the group started filling the space. 

You saw to them, one by one. A couple of bruises, some cuts, a nick or two from a grazed bullet that'd need a few stitches. But nothing too serious. Good.

"What happened out there?" you asked, cleaning away the filth and gunk that stuck to the dried blood on one of the boy's shoulders.

A hush fell over the conversation. Confused at the sudden silence, you turn your attention to the chimeran. Scar had that look. The one you've gotten used to since the situation with Silco started to escalate. Started to turn more... violent. When it began to become... personal.

Jinx...

"I see, and Ekko?" you ask as you grab a pack from the cabinet. 

"'Course you'd ask about him." Scar teased. Earning a glare from you. "He's fine. Just finishing up. I'm sure he'll come over soon." He says, walking away, his tone not any less teasing. 

You could only scoff at his antics. For such a rough and gruff person, his penchant for teasing certainly takes some getting used to. Focusing on the task, you tenderly clean the area around the wounds. Expertly stitching and bandaging with a quick and skilled hand. Before long, all three boys lay fast asleep on their cots. Ice towels on their bruises and bandaged arms or legs angled away to keep them from snagging. Satisfied with your work, you started cleaning up. Throwing away bloodied gauze and used needles while saving the rest for future use. After all, supplies down here in the under city don’t come cheap. Just as you were about to put away the last pack, Ekko's voice called to you from the entrance of the infirmary. 

"Firelight! Get over here. There's something you need to see," he said, tone urgent. Almost... somber. 

Worriedly, you hobbled to him as fast as you could, a difficult task when you're also trying not to trip over your cane. 

"Hey! What's wrong? You hurt?" you ask, hand on his shoulder, nudging him left and right as you inspect him for any wounds he may or may not be hiding from you. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine... but there's someone else you should see," he said, placing a hand on yours on his shoulder. His eyes shifted to something to his right, then back. Pointing. 

"Who-"

You felt your breath catch and the wobble in your knees. There stood a young woman. With wild pink hair that glowed where the sun would hit it. And blue eyes that sparkled as they looked at you. She looked tired and haggard. Like she hadn't had enough sunlight in years. But that face... you knew that face. It may have aged over the years, but it was still... hers. 

"Vi?"

"Hey there, shortstack. But I see you aren't so short any more. And, I guess it's Doc around here, huh?"

With a stumble, you shuffle towards her. The thunk of your cane against the hardwood floor being the only sound between you two. You stop in front of her at arm's length. Slowly, nervously, you reach out to her, hand trembling as you carefully cup her cheek. It was warm, it was soft, it was... real.

"You're... real?" you whispered.

"I sure am," Vi whispered back. Her own hand reached out to cup yours. Thumb gently rubbing circles on the peak of your cheek.

"You're not a nightmare? Or some ghost here to haunt me 'cause you're still bitter about that time I popped your wrist back wrong?" you said, wet hiccups mixing with blobs of tears gushing out of your eyes. Sniffling as you felt snot beginning to drip from your nose. You always were a messy crier. Pulling you in, Vi embraces you tightly, letting you sob against her shoulder. Drenching the fabric of her jacket with tears and snot.

"I missed you, baby sis. So, so much. I'm so sorry I left you alone. It'll never happen again. Ever." Vi says, holding you tighter. Feeling her own tears beginning to fall, staining your white lab coat gray.

"I missed you too..."

— ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و the look of love.

౨ৎ batboys x gn!reader ( separated ) ౨ৎ cw . non-proof read. ౨ৎ summary . how they look at you ౨ৎ . gwens note . short and rushed fic ౨ৎ wc . 327

the amount of love in dick’s eyes was overwhelming. his gaze would dilate whenever you were near, his eyes softening, smiling in a way that felt so intimate. he looked at you like you his whole world, unwavering and unrelenting. his love poured out of him so completely it was almost suffocating. there is no hint of anything else but fondness in his eyes. this man has absolutely zero amount of nonchalance.

oh geez, the way jason’s eyes would immediately soften when his gaze meets you. everyone would’ve noticed how tender his gaze seemed whenever you were there. he searches everywhere for you. whenever you walk into the room, his eyes would light up as well. his blinks are slow, signaling that hes relaxed and calm around you. ( i headcanon that jason would sometimes avoid your gaze cause he gets nervous at times, though. )

tim looks at you as if he was studying your every move. he notices every single detail and quirk of you. yes, he pays attention to your features. and he remembers every single one of them. sometimes, he would point out some of your features that he absolutely adores. ( i feel like if tim were to come across those tiktok posts where its like ‘find out what type of pretty you are’ videos, he would answer for you and send it to you, stating which one you are. )

damian’s eyes never leave you. if he was to tell a joke and you were around, he’d immediately look at you to see if you heard him, searching for the slightest hint of a reaction. the world could quite literally be falling apart before him, and he’d still keep hold of his gaze. his eyes would always follow you wherever you go. however, his gaze is quite intense. most of the times, he looks like he’s silently judging your every move, when he’s actually just quietly looking out for you, just in case something happens.

reblogs and likes are very appreciated ! thank you luvlies for reading ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

# “IS IT NEW YEAR’S YET, I’M GETTIN’ BORED, SO CAN WE SKIP AHEAD?” ── .✦. ( a drabble of celebrating with batboys new years with batboys !! )

a/n: it’s 2025 oml, this year has been filled with ups and downs and many tears, many smiles, I wish that I live longer enough to enough plenty of years in peace, for 2025 my New Year’s resolution is to expand my interests && meet new people and friends and to be kind, understandable, happy, and positive and poetic !! Tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick insists on going out for New Year’s Eve. He loves the energy of the city and wants to celebrate with you in style.

He takes you to a rooftop party with the best view of Gotham’s fireworks. He’s that guy pulling you onto the dance floor and spinning you around until your cheeks hurt from smiling.

When the countdown begins, he gets super excited, holding your hands and hyping up the moment like, “This is it! Best year yet, babe!”, “it’s just new years dick calm down.”

At midnight, he gives you a movie-worthy kiss, dipping you slightly for dramatic effect.

After the party, you both grab late-night street food and walk around the city, talking about your hopes for the new year.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason prefers a quieter New Year’s Eve at home, but he doesn’t mind doing something small if it makes you happy.

He sets up a cozy evening with your favorite snacks, drinks, and a movie marathon. “This is better than overpriced parties and sweaty crowds, right?”

As the clock nears midnight, he’ll make a sarcastic comment like, “Think 2025 will be the year Gotham finally gets its act together?”

At midnight, he gives you a sweet kiss and mumbles, “Here’s to another year of putting up with me.

If you want to do something fun, he might take you to a rooftop to watch fireworks. He holds you close and pretends it’s just for warmth, but he’s smiling the whole time.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s ideal New Year’s involves a mix of productivity and relaxation. He plans a cute night in where you can both reflect on the past year and set goals for the new one.

He buys a journal or a vision board for the two of you to fill out together. “Okay, what’s your most unrealistic goal for this year? Let’s make it happen.”

He struggles to stay awake as midnight approaches, though. You catch him dozing off during a movie, and he grumbles when you wake him. “I’m not asleep I’m resting my eyes.”

At midnight, he kisses you softly and murmurs, “Thanks for making this year better.”

If you want to go out, he’ll humor you with a cute date to a low-key café or a small gathering with friends.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian treats New Year’s as a time to improve himself. He’s not into big parties, but he’ll indulge your preferences to make you happy.

If you want to stay in, he sets up a fancy dinner for the two of you with candles and elegant dishes he helped Alfred prepare. “We’ll celebrate properly, without the chaos.”

He rolls his eyes at New Year’s resolutions but secretly sets a few for himself, especially involving you. “Fine. I resolve to… be more patient with you.” (You tease him for that.)

At midnight, he gives you a shy but heartfelt kiss and says, “I’m glad you’re in my life this year.”

If you convince him to watch fireworks, he’ll grumble about the noise but eventually relaxes when you lean against him.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce makes New Year’s a classy affair. He takes you to a gala or hosts an elegant party at Wayne Manor.

He’s by your side the whole night, introducing you to important guests and making sure you feel like the most important person in the room.

At midnight, he’ll find a quiet corner to steal a private moment with you, giving you a soft, lingering kiss and whispering, “Thank you for making this year so much brighter.”

If you prefer something low-key, he’ll cancel all plans and spend the evening with you at home. You’ll share champagne by the fire, reminiscing about the past year.

He’s the type to surprise you with a meaningful gift at the stroke of midnight, like a bracelet engraved with the date or a key to the Manor if you don’t already live there.

# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).

Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”

Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”

Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”

Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.

Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”

Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.

Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”

Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”

Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”

Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”

Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”

Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”

Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).

Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”

Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”

Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.

Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”

Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”

attractive things they do while you're dating

pairing: batboys (plus clark lol) & reader ❀ׄ ꥈ

𓍢ִ໋☕ cassidy's note: for funsies. not edited. i love reading variations of these. i haven't written since 2020. if you can like this, reblog too.

bruce 🦇ᡣ𐭩˚.

navigating paparazzi: the careful way he guides you to block the flaring flashes from cameras with his broad shoulders.

bruce wraps his fingers to pull on your waist, tugging you further behind him, ensuring no shots of you are taken on what was meant to be a private night out.

despite the urgency of the situation--his face still stays controlled and imperturbable, but his grip is firm to reassure you, as he leans down and mumbles in your ear, "just a bit farther, the car's close," before his voice cuts through the cries and shutters lowly: "we're done here."

listens intently, and remembers every single detail about you, despite whether you think it's significant or not for him to know.

bruce stores your favorite shampoo and conditioner in his bathroom when you stay the night over.

and when you're sitting on the edge of his sink, removing his makeup from under his eyes, you notice it sitting amongst his own body-wash and pine scented soap.

but when you ask him about it, he simply shrugs and waves it off.

dick 🏙ɞ♥️*

teaches you self defense: his hands gently curl over yours to demonstrate how they should look before you throw a punch.

his touch is light, "keep your thumb on the outside", dick's finger taps the inside of your palm, "if you keep it inside, you'll break it--not fun."

he whistles when you hit him solidly in the side with a wide grin, despite the force of your blow, "better."

insists on helping you put on all your jewellery and shoes.

he turns you around, and pulls your hair to one side of your neck, before fiddling with the clasp. he's clumsy at first, but eventually gets the hang of it the more he does it. his hands linger on the slope of your neck for a moment longer than necessary.

later, as you reach for your shoes, he beats you to it, kneeling in front of you. dick's motions are all exaggerated as he does it.

your hand cards through his hair when he's looking up through his lashes after he's fastened the straps, and kissing the inside of your calf slowly.

jason ❤️‍🩹⋆｡

reads on public transportation: jason pulls out a beat up paperback he picked up from a secondhand bookstore from his back pocket. it has dog eared pages and a weathered spine.

there's a baby crying on the train, but he doesn't seem to notice as he flicks a ringed finger to the page he last read.

he pulls a pencil from his jacket pocket, and traces a line in a passage--a part he thinks you'd like. when he leans forward, his shirt rides up a bit so a strip of his skin is visible to you.

doesn't wipe your lipgloss from his cheek.

the shimmer from it stains his cheek after you pressed a kiss to it. you go to wipe it with a laugh, reaching with your thumb, and jason catches it mid-air. "you've got glitter on your face jay, people are gonna-"

"next time, wear red."

tim 🪽❥˚

gnaws at his lip as he concentrates.

the hum of the keys click in the batcave and papers rustle. tim's focus is sharp as he attempts piecing together his newest case, and his teeth catch in his bottom lip. an unconscious habit.

you can't help but tease him about it, "that's a terrible habit to have, you know that?" you lean against his desk."it helps me think."

sure enough, he does it again. "you're gonna chew your lip off your face one day." his lips curve upwards at your observation, but your gaze was now intense as you observed his lip in his teeth, and before you can state another snarky remark, he shoots you a knowing look before pulling your belt loops, and kissing you.

wears your hair tie on his wrist. it was never really ever a big deal. one day you handed it to him while getting ready for bed one night as you pulled out your ponytail and he snapped it onto his wrist without much thought. now, it's routine. it doesn't matter where he is exactly, if tim's at a gala or in a meeting or out in gotham on patrol, the hair tie is around his wrist.

you heard him cursing from the other room when he misplaced it once.

clark 🌟.*☆

saves you a seat, always: whether it's evenings in or out, clark always makes you feel like you're the most important person there.

it's not something that's said but understood, as he pulls the chair next to him, letting it be out long enough for you to get comfortable, before gently scooting it inwards.

when you eat, and when he thinks you're not looking--clark will adjust your plate, and glace over at your water glass to make sure it is filled. and if you want extra bread, don't even worry because he kept an extra piece on his plate for you.

pushing his glasses up. there's something kinda charming about the way he does it that you wish you could explain it better. it's absentminded, he does it a lot!

when he's looking over articles or reading or just talking to you. in the elevator, he'll lean forward to look over the numbered floors, and they won't stay in place, sliding down the bridge of his nose. you don't say anything, but smile slightly, and he'll return it goofily and with more teeth, before he asks, "what?"

tags: @retvenkos

Could you write an imagine about Clark Kent x reader where it’s in an outsider pov where the reader is a mean popular cheerleader who’s dating her opposite who’s nerdy Clark.

notes: i tried to make it kinda general if you want a more specific one please send it!! hope you like it!

the first time anyone saw you with clark kent, they thought it was a mistake. a glitch in the universe. something so fundamentally wrong that the world itself should’ve paused and done a double take.

you, the queen bee of smallville high, the girl who walked down the halls with a squad of cheerleaders at your heels, a smirk on your glossy lips and the scent of designer perfume in your wake. you were untouchable, intimidating, the kind of girl who could destroy someone’s social life with a single whisper into the right ear. the head cheerleader, the reigning champion of every pep rally, the girl everyone either wanted or wanted to be. and then there was clark.

clark kent. the nerd. the farm boy with flannel shirts and an easy smile. the one who always had his nose buried in a book, who spoke in quiet, polite tones and never quite met anyone’s eyes for too long. he was soft, awkward, everything you weren’t. but more importantly, he was different. something about him had a quiet gravity, a presence that didn’t need arrogance to demand attention. but no one could understand why you, of all people, had fallen for him.

so when you stormed into the cafeteria one friday, hair perfect and uniform pristine, and plopped yourself right next to clark, the entire school turned to watch. jaws dropped. conversations died. even chloe, ever the investigator, nearly dropped her coffee, her journalist instincts already buzzing with curiosity.

“hey, baby,” you chirped, like it was the most natural thing in the world. and then you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

clark turned as red as his beat-up backpack, fumbling with his tray as he blinked up at you in surprise. “uh—hi?”

whispers exploded like wildfire. people nudged each other, eyes wide with shock, whispering theories about what sort of sick joke this was. lana raised an eyebrow from her seat across the room, not quite believing her eyes. but then clark, bless his heart, smiled. soft and sweet, like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real. and suddenly, it was real.

you were dating clark kent.

and the world didn’t know what to do with that information.

at first, they waited for the catch. maybe you lost a bet. maybe you were planning some cruel prank, the kind that would leave clark humiliated in front of the entire school. lex himself might’ve wagered on it, intrigued by the sheer absurdity of the pairing. but weeks passed, and you were still with him. walking him to class, stealing his flannel shirts, holding his hand in the hallways like it was the easiest thing in the world.

and the worst part? you seemed happy. like, genuinely happy.

your friends didn’t get it. “babe, you could have literally anyone. why him?” they’d ask, flipping their hair and wrinkling their noses at clark like he was some tragic charity case.

but you’d just shrug, twirling a strand of hair around your manicured finger. “he’s sweet.”

and he was. clark was the kind of boyfriend who carried your books without being asked, who wrote you little notes in his loopy handwriting, who looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. he blushed when you kissed him, stammered when you flirted, held your hand like it was something delicate and precious.

but there was more to it.

sometimes, you caught glimpses of something...more. the way clark could dodge things impossibly fast, how he always seemed to be right where he needed to be. the way he could lift the heavy gym equipment like it was made of paper. sometimes, his hands lingered on yours just a second too long, warmth radiating from him like a human furnace. sometimes, his gaze turned distant, like he was listening to something far away. and sometimes, you wondered if there was more to clark kent than met the eye.

one afternoon, beneath the bleachers after practice, you pressed up on your toes and kissed him. not a peck on the cheek, not something chaste and innocent, but a real kiss. slow, warm, and lingering. clark froze at first, breath hitching, before his hands found your waist, fingers curling around the fabric of your uniform like he was anchoring himself to the moment. his lips moved against yours hesitantly, then with a little more confidence, as if he couldn't quite believe this was happening.

it didn’t make sense. it shouldn’t have worked. but it did.

taglist: @legalmente-loca @soangelbaby

😭😭 need Monster trio (separately) x pregnant reader. all fluffy

like their reaction and how would they be during it 😓

but if u dont want to just ignore this!

Pregnant 🫵

how would they react at your pregnancy?

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji

words count: around 0.5k - 0.8k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

The sea breeze is warm as you stand on the Sunny’s deck, heart racing. Luffy is lying nearby, hands behind his head, smiling at the sky. His straw hat rests on his face, rising and falling with his steady breaths.

You swallow hard. This is it.

You walk up to him and poke his cheek “Luffy.”

His nose scrunches up, and he lifts his hat just enough to peek at you “Hmm?”

You sit down next to him. Your hands shake a little. He notices. His hat slides off his face completely, and he blinks at you “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath “I… I have something to tell you.”

Luffy sits up fast. His eyes are wide, full of curiosity “Oh! Is it something cool?!”

You let out a small laugh “Yeah… really cool.” You reach for his hand and place it gently over your stomach. “Luffy, I’m pregnant.”

He stares at you. Blinks once. Then twice. His fingers twitch against your belly.

Then— “WHAAAAAAT?!” he jumps up so fast that he nearly topples over. His hands flail before gently grabbing your shoulders “Really?! A baby?! OUR baby?!”

You nod, laughing at his reaction “Yeah.”

Luffy’s grin stretches wider than you’ve ever seen. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing tight “This is awesome!! I’m gonna be a dad?!” he pulls back, eyes sparkling “Wait, wait—does this mean there’s a tiny me in there?! Like—super tiny?!”

You giggle “Kind of.”

Luffy gasps dramatically “That’s so weird—but so cool!!” he crouches down and presses his ear against your belly, pouting “Oi, baby! Can you hear me? I’m your dad! Your super cool, super strong dad!”

You ruffle his hair “It’s too early for them to hear you, Luffy.”

He sits back, looking thoughtful. Then he beams again “I gotta tell everyone!!” Before you can stop him, he takes a deep breath and then—

“GUUUUYS! (Y/N) HAS A BABY IN HER BELLY!”

Footsteps thunder across the ship as the crew comes running. Nami facepalms, Zoro groans, Sanji faints, Usopp starts panicking, and Chopper yells something about medical checkups.

Luffy just sits there, hands on your stomach, grinning like he’s just found the One Piece.

Months Later

Luffy is… something else during your pregnancy.

He pokes your belly every day, fascinated by how it grows “It’s getting huge!!” he exclaims one morning, eyes wide “Are you sure there’s only one baby in there?!”

He steals extra food from Sanji’s kitchen and piles it on your plate “Eat! The baby needs to be strong, like me!”

He refuses to let you do anything dangerous “No fights! No running! No carrying heavy stuff! That’s my job now!” He puffs out his chest making you smile softly at him “Captain’s orders!”

At night, he talks to your belly in a serious tone “Okay, listen, baby. When you come out, we’re gonna have so much fun! I’ll show you how to stretch like me! And how to eat tons of meat! And we’ll go on super cool adventures!”

One night, as you lay in bed, his arms wrapped protectively around you, he mumbles sleepily “Love you. Both of you.”

Your heart melts. You smile, placing your hand over his “Love you too, Luffy.”

He grins even in his sleep, dreaming of the greatest adventure yet, being a dad.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

The evening air is warm as you stand on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, watching the ocean waves. Your heart beats fast, but not from battle or danger, but from the words you need to say.

Behind you, Zoro trains like always. His swords cut through the air with sharp precision, muscles flexing as he moves. His brows furrow in focus, sweat dripping down his forehead.

You take a deep breath. Now or never.

“Zoro”

He stops mid-swing, turning to you “Huh?” His tone is rough, but his gaze softens when he sees your expression “Something wrong?”

You step closer, gripping the hem of your shirt. Your nerves make your fingers twitch, but you push through. You have to tell him.

“…I need to tell you something important.”

Zoro sheaths his swords, sensing your seriousness. He crosses his arms “Yeah?”

You swallow. Then, carefully, you take his hand and place it over your stomach.

“I’m pregnant...”

Silence.

Zoro doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. It’s like the words haven’t registered yet. His hand rests on your stomach, fingers barely pressing into the fabric of your shirt.

“…What?” His voice is quiet, actually too quiet for him.

You squeeze his hand “We’re having a baby, Zoro.”

His breath catches. He stares at you, eyes flicking between your face and where his hand rests on your stomach. His fingers twitch slightly. A baby. His baby.

Then, suddenly, you’re lifted off the ground.

“Zoro—!” you laugh as he picks you up effortlessly, holding you close. His grip is firm but careful, like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

When he finally sets you down, his hands linger on your arms, steadying you. His face is unreadable for a second, and then a smirk.

“Tch. Guess I really have to get stronger now.”

You raise an eyebrow “Why?”

Zoro’s smirk softens just a little. His thumb brushes your stomach lightly “To protect both of you.”

Your heart swells. He’s serious.

You press your forehead against his “You’re already strong enough, idiot.”

Zoro scoffs “There’s no such thing.”

Then, after a pause, he mutters “…Are you okay?”

The question is so simple, but the weight behind it makes your eyes sting.

You nod “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Zoro’s arms tighten around you “Me too.”

You pull back slightly, surprised “You? The great Roronoa Zoro? Nervous?”

He clicks his tongue “Tch. This is different” he glances at your stomach “Fights, enemies, swords—I know how to handle those. But this?” His hand brushes your belly again, softer this time “This is new.”

You smile, lacing your fingers with his “We’ll figure it out together.”

He exhales, like a weight has lifted from his chest “Yeah.”

And for the first time in a long time, Zoro doesn’t feel lost at all.

Months Later

Zoro is the most overprotective person ever.

He watches you like a hawk. If you so much as sigh, he’s next to you in a second.

“You okay?”

You roll your eyes “Yes, Zoro. For the hundredth time, I’m fine.”

He grumbles but doesn’t stop hovering.

He always refuses to let you lift anything.

You reach for a barrel and then “Put that down.”

You try to carry plates from the kitchen and he goes “I got it.”

You bend down to pick up a book, Zoro glares and “What did I just say?”

He even walks with you everywhere.

“You don’t have to follow me to the bathroom.”

“What if you trip?”

“Zoro.”

“…What if an enemy attacks?”

You groan, but he just folds his arms and stays put.

He also naps closer to you now.

Zoro still sleeps a lot, but now he always makes sure to be near you. Some days, he dozes off with his head on your lap, his arm draped over your growing belly.

You run your fingers through his hair, feeling his slow, steady breathing. He won’t say it out loud, but you know he’s nervous, and this is how he comforts himself.

One time, you catch him talking to your stomach when he thinks you’re asleep.

“You better not kick too hard in there… Your mom needs to sleep” His voice is quiet but gruff. Then, after a long pause, he adds, “…Can’t wait to meet you, though.”

Your heart melts.

Later that night, you whisper “Are you scared?”

Zoro is silent for a moment. Then, he exhales “A little.”

You lace your fingers with his “Me too.”

He turns his head to look at you, eyes steady “We’ll figure it out.”

You smile “Yeah.”

Zoro presses his forehead against yours “Get some sleep.”

As you drift off, Zoro stays awake a little longer, hand resting on your belly.

For the first time, he’s facing a future he can’t predict, a battle he can’t train for.

But he knows one thing for sure—he will always protect you. And your child.

No matter what.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

The smell of fresh bread and sizzling butter fills the Thousand Sunny’s kitchen as you sit at the counter, watching Sanji move. He hums to himself while stirring a pot, completely in his element. His blonde hair falls over his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to care.

You take a deep breath, heart racing. It’s time to tell him.

“Sanji...” you say softly.

He turns instantly, smiling “Yes, my love? Dinner will be ready soon.”

You shake your head “I… need to tell you something first.”

Sanji notices your serious tone and wipes his hands on a towel before walking over “What is it, sweetheart?” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, concern in his ocean-blue eyes.

You take his hand and press it against your stomach.

“I’m pregnant”

Sanji freezes.

His fingers twitch slightly against your belly, his usual smooth confidence suddenly gone. His mouth opens, but no words come out. His cigarette almost falls from his lips.

“…What?” his voice is barely a whisper.

You smile nervously “We’re having a baby.”

Sanji stares at you, his eyes wide. Then—

THUMP.

His legs give out, and he falls to his knees in front of you. His hands stay on your stomach as he looks up, completely overwhelmed.

“You’re… serious?” His voice shakes “I—I’m going to be a father?”

You nod, tears prickling in your eyes “Yeah.”

A sharp inhale. Then, suddenly, Sanji buries his face against your stomach, arms wrapping around you so gently, as if he’s afraid to break you.

“Mon amour… I don’t even know what to say” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. You feel his breath against your skin, warm and shaky “This is the greatest gift you could ever give me.”

You stroke his hair, heart swelling “So… you’re happy?”

Sanji pulls back slightly, grinning through tears “Happy? (Y/N), I feel like I just won the whole damn world.”

Then, his hands cup your cheeks, and he kisses you—soft, deep, full of love.

“Wait—!” He pulls away suddenly, eyes wide “You need food! Proper nutrition! I need to—” He rushes toward the kitchen, grabbing ingredients at lightning speed “I’ll make you something right now—no, I’ll make ten meals—no, twenty! The baby needs to eat too!”

You laugh, watching him run around in a panicked, love-struck frenzy.

Sanji is going to be the best dad.

Months Later

Sanji is the most devoted, doting, over-the-top partner ever.

He refuses to let you do anything.

You try to stand up? He’s already pulling out a chair for you.

You reach for a glass? It’s in your hand before you can blink.

You sigh in the heat? He’s fanning you immediately.

“Sanji, I’m pregnant, not broken” you groan.

“My love, you are carrying our child!” He places a dramatic hand over his heart “I refuse to let you lift a single finger!”

Sanji cooks nonstop for you.

“Here, sweetheart, eat this.”

“Sanji, I just ate five minutes ago—”

“The baby might still be hungry!”

He talks to your belly constantly.

“Hello, little one! This is your father speaking.” He presses a kiss to your stomach “I hope you’re nice and comfortable in there. When you come out, I’ll make you the most delicious food in the world!”

Then, more seriously, he whispers “And I’ll take care of you. You and your mother. Forever.”

Your eyes tear up every time.

At night, Sanji holds you close, his hand resting protectively over your growing belly.

“You should sleep” you murmur, noticing he’s still awake.

“I’m just… thinking” he admits.

“About what?”

Sanji sighs softly “I never thought I’d have this,” he says “A family. Someone to love… and now, both of you.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It’s like a dream.”

You smile, lacing your fingers with his “Then let’s make it the best dream ever.”

Sanji chuckles, pulling you even closer “Oui, mon amour.”

As you drift off, you feel his lips brush against your stomach once more.

And you know, without a doubt Sanji will love this baby with everything he has.

🎀🎀🎀Clark Kent x bimbo!Reader🎀🎀🎀

This is my 2nd time writing I hope whoever sees it likes it :)

The first time Clark Kent saw you waltz into the bullpen of The Daily Planet, all pink heels, glossy lips, and bubblegum perfume, he nearly knocked over his coffee. Which was, frankly, embarrassing—he’s Superman. He’s not supposed to be fazed by anything, let alone a woman in a rhinestone “Barbie” necklace.

But you? You were different. You weren’t like the hardened journalists around him, all too jaded and overworked to care about anything besides their next scoop. No, you floated into work like you were the main character in a romcom montage, phone in hand, nails impossibly long, voice all sugary sweetness as you greeted everyone like they were your besties.

And Clark was completely, hopelessly enamored.

“So, like, what do you even write about?” you asked him one afternoon, twirling a pen between your fingers. You were both waiting for an interview subject to show up, and Clark was doing a terrible job of pretending he wasn’t staring at your glossy pink lips.

“Uh, mostly investigative pieces,” he answered, clearing his throat. “Crime, corruption… city politics.”

You blinked, then let out a giggle. “That sounds soooo serious.”

Clark adjusted his glasses. “Well, it is.”

You pouted, tapping your nails on the desk. “I like writing about fun stuff! Like, celebrity gossip, or dating advice, or how to tell if a guy is, like, secretly into you.”

He felt his throat go dry. “Oh?”

You leaned in conspiratorially, pink lips curving into a smile. “Yeah. For example, if a guy keeps looking at your lips while you talk, that usually means he wants to kiss you.”

Clark, who had very much been doing exactly that, felt his ears burn red. “That so?”

“Mhm.” You tilted your head, all innocent curiosity, but he knew better. “What do you think, Clark?”

He adjusted his glasses again, as if that would somehow make him immune to your charms. (It wouldn’t. It never did.) He had fought intergalactic threats and literal gods, but somehow, sitting next to you in the newsroom was the most dangerous situation he’d ever been in.

And the worst part? He didn’t even want to be saved.

Tell me, where’s your hiding place?

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader, Red K! Clark

Summary: Seven years ago, Y/N crossed paths with a mysterious stranger in the back alleys of Metropolis. He saved her life without a second thought, then vanished into the night, leaving nothing but questions. Now, she’s face-to-face with a dorky reporter who seems all too familiar.

part 1 . part 2 . part 3 . part 4 . part 5

complete

words: 6.7k

💌 💌 💌 💌

The night Y/N left home, the sky was heavy with rain, as if the universe itself was mourning her departure. She clutched the strap of her silver guitar case, her knuckles turning white as she stepped off the creaky porch for the last time. Behind her, the house was dark, the silence inside more oppressive than any shouting match she had endured. Her heart pounded, but she didn’t look back. Looking back meant hesitation, and hesitation meant staying. And she couldn’t stay. Not anymore.

With nothing but the clothes on her back, a handful of crumpled bills, and her guitar, she made her way to the bus station. The wind bit at her exposed skin through her thin jacket, but she barely noticed. Every step forward felt like breaking free from chains that had bound her for too long.

The Greyhound ticket to Metropolis was more expensive than she’d expected, nearly draining her meager savings. But as the bus rumbled to life and pulled away from the station, she felt something she hadn’t in years—relief. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating a future she had yet to figure out. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was leaving.

Metropolis was nothing like the small town she had escaped from. It was bigger, louder, and faster than anything she had ever known. Towering skyscrapers stretched high into the sky, their windows glimmering like scattered stars. The streets were filled with honking cars, flashing billboards, and an unending sea of people. The first night, she wandered aimlessly, overwhelmed and exhilarated all at once.

She spent her first few nights sleeping in bus stations and all-night diners, nursing cups of cheap coffee to keep from being kicked out. The exhaustion weighed heavy on her, but the alternative—going back—was unthinkable. Instead, she tightened her grip on her guitar and pressed on.

Her first gig was at a dingy little bar tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store. The neon sign flickered, barely holding on to its last bit of light. She had walked in, desperate, and begged the manager to let her play for tips. He had eyed her skeptically before shrugging and jerking his thumb toward the tiny stage in the corner.

The first few nights were rough. The crowd barely paid attention, too busy drowning their sorrows in whiskey and half-hearted conversations. But she kept playing, pouring every ounce of emotion into her music, as if she could rewrite her past with each chord. Eventually, people started to listen. A few would nod along, some would toss a couple of bills into the open guitar case at her feet. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Days blurred into weeks. She played wherever she could—street corners, subway stations, coffee shops. Anything to scrape together enough money for food and a place to sleep. But the city was unforgiving. Rent was astronomical, and no matter how hard she tried, the money ran out faster than she could earn it.

She learned to go without. Skipped meals. Slept in parks when she couldn’t afford a motel. She told herself it was temporary, that things would get better. But as the nights grew colder and her savings dwindled to nothing, the weight of reality pressed down on her.

One evening, after a particularly brutal night of playing to an indifferent crowd, she counted her earnings and felt her stomach drop. Five dollars and some loose change. Not even enough for a proper meal, let alone a roof over her head.

She sat on the edge of the sidewalk, pulling her jacket tighter around her as she stared at the blinking lights of Metropolis. Her dream had brought her here, but dreams didn’t keep you warm. Dreams didn’t feed you.

A wave of despair crashed over her, heavier than ever before. She had fought so hard to escape, but now she was faced with a different kind of prison—one built of hunger and uncertainty.

She let out a shaky breath and looked down at her guitar, tracing her fingers over the silver finish. It was the only thing she had left. Her last connection to the girl who believed she could be something more. But belief didn’t pay rent.

A thought crossed her mind, one she had been avoiding for weeks. She could sell it. Pawn it off for enough cash to buy herself a few nights at a cheap motel, maybe even a meal that wasn’t from a dollar menu. But the idea of parting with it felt like cutting out a piece of herself.

Her grip on the guitar tightened. She wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

With renewed determination, she stood, brushing off her worn-out jeans. She had survived this far. She would find a way. She had to.

—

Y/N had learned to navigate its streets over the past few months, though it often felt like the city had more to take from her than it was willing to give. She had her guitar, a few dreams, and nothing else. No money, no plan. Just the hope that one day, she'd find a stage big enough for her voice to echo across the world.

But tonight? Tonight was different. Tonight, the streets felt colder. The wind bit at her skin as she wandered down a dark alley, hoping to cut through and avoid the city’s usual buzz. She was tired, her back aching from lugging her guitar, and she was dangerously close to giving up for the night.

She was halfway through the alley when she heard it. The unmistakable click of boots on the pavement.

“Hey, pretty lady, you lost?”

Y/N stopped in her tracks, her hand instinctively gripping her guitar case tighter. The voice was smooth, too smooth, and there was something just... off about it. She didn't need to turn around to know that trouble was creeping up behind her. But she wasn’t about to show fear. Not now.

She forced a smile, glancing over her shoulder. “Do I look lost?”

Three men stepped into her path. The leader, tall with a scar slashing down his face, smiled like he was about to enjoy a meal. His two buddies flanked him, eyes sharp and calculating.

“Not really,” the scarred guy said, his voice dripping with malice. “But you sure look like someone who needs some... company.”

Y/N's heart rate spiked, but she kept her composure. “I’m good, thanks. Don’t need any company tonight.”

Scarface stepped closer, his smirk widening. “Nah, I think you do. You don’t wanna be walking around these parts alone, sweetheart.”

The hairs on the back of Y/N’s neck stood on end. She had to think fast—there was no way she could fight all three of them off. As one of the thugs reached out to grab her arm, she swung her guitar case at him, the metal hitting his side with a satisfying thud.

The other two men grabbed her, causing a scream to escape from her throat. 

But before she could react further, the sound of someone clearing their throat broke through the tension like a clap of thunder.

“Wow, you guys are real charming,” a voice said, dripping with sarcasm.

Y/N whipped around, her breath catching in her throat. Standing just a few feet away, leaning casually against the alley wall, was a man who didn’t seem fazed by the three thugs at all. His posture was relaxed, almost bored, like he was waiting for something mildly interesting to happen. His clothes were sharp—too sharp for this part of town—and there was a mischievous grin plastered across his face like he’d just walked into a comedy show.

It took Y/N a moment to realize that he was the one who had interrupted the confrontation with nothing more than sheer presence.

“Who the hell are you?” Scarface barked, stepping toward him. “This is none of your business.”

The man—Kal, as he later introduced himself—shrugged nonchalantly, pushing himself off the wall. “Oh, I think it is,” he said with a grin that could only be described as devilish. “Can’t stand the sound of screaming. Really kills the vibe, y’know?”

Y/N couldn’t help but blink, slightly thrown off by his carefree attitude. It was clear he wasn’t here to help for any reason other than his own amusement. He didn’t even look at the thugs as he lazily kicked one of their legs out from under them, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

Scarface was clearly not used to being dismissed. He snarled and swung a fist at Kal, but Kal ducked with exaggerated slowness, like he had all the time in the world. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent the thug flying into the brick wall with a barely noticeable push. The sound of a body slamming against concrete echoed down the alley.

The two remaining thugs hesitated, but before they could react, Kal grinned again, this time giving a little wave. “You’re gonna need to hurry up if you’re planning on getting me. I’ve got places to be, and honestly, I’m already bored.”

One of the thugs ran at him, and Kal simply side-stepped, tripping the guy with the toe of his boot. “I should have just gone home,” Kal muttered to himself. He glanced at Y/N as the last thug fell with a yelp. “Honestly, all that screaming was getting on my nerves. Guess I had to do something about it.”

Y/N stared at him, wide-eyed, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. “Are you insane?” she asked, taking a shaky step back. “Who the hell are you?”

Kal stretched like he hadn’t just single-handedly taken down three guys, like he hadn’t just thrown the law of physics out the window with his ridiculous display of strength. “Me? Oh, I’m just the guy who came to save your ass. You’re welcome, by the way.”

He looked at her for a beat, his eyes scanning her face, before his grin widened. “But hey, don’t go thinking this means I’m some kind of hero.” He shot her a wink. “I’m just here to make my night a little less boring.”

Y/N blinked, still reeling. “You didn’t do that to help me?”

“Help you?” Kal snorted. “I just did it so I could get some peace and quiet. Ever heard someone scream for five minutes straight? Drives you insane.”

She couldn’t decide whether to laugh or punch him. “That’s your idea of a rescue?”

Kal looked her up and down with a lazy glance. “You seem fine now. Don’t go thinking you owe me anything.”

Y/N crossed her arms, trying to steady herself, but something about his casual attitude—his complete lack of concern—bothered her in a way she couldn’t explain. He was reckless, dangerous, and completely unpredictable. But there was also something... oddly human beneath it all. Something that wasn’t entirely cold.

He stepped closer, the playful smirk never leaving his face. “You’re lucky, though. Pretty girls like you... well, you know what happens to them in dark alleys, right?”

Y/N’s stomach twisted, but she refused to let him get the upper hand. “I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than those guys,” she shot back, her voice sharp.

Kal’s grin turned even more mischievous. “Oh, I am trouble. You’ll get used to it.” He cocked his head, as if sizing her up. “You sing?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Sing. I saw your guitar case back there.” Kal’s grin turned sly. “You’ve got a voice, right? I could use something to pass the time, and honestly, it’ll be more entertaining than whatever you were planning to do tonight.”

“I don’t take requests,” she snapped, though part of her was curious why this guy thought he could tell her what to do.

Kal didn’t even flinch. “I’ll let you crash at my place for the night,” he said, voice casual as if he were offering her a cup of coffee. “Nice couch. A shower. And I’m dying to hear you play.”

Y/N just stared at him. "And what's the catch?"

Kal waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, you know, no big deal. Just... entertain me. You know, sing, play your guitar, whatever. If I’m gonna let you crash at my place, you might as well make yourself useful.”

Y/N felt her temper flare, but deep down, she knew she didn’t have much of a choice. She was on the verge of exhaustion, and this strange man had just saved her life. Even if he was... well, him, she could probably use a place to sleep.

“Fine,” she muttered, tossing her guitar case over her shoulder. “I’ll sing. But I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for me.”

Kal’s grin was practically ear-to-ear. “Now that’s the spirit.” He turned and started to walk away, not looking back. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here before someone tries to ruin my fun.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her heart still racing from the encounter, but something in his voice—the challenge, the unpredictability—pulled her forward. She followed him, knowing this strange arrangement was only the beginning of whatever bizarre thing was about to unfold.

As she walked behind him, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Kal was dangerous. But there was also a part of her that liked it.

—

Y/N followed Kal through the sleek streets of Metropolis, still trying to make sense of the night. One minute she was being harassed by thugs in an alley, the next, she was walking into a penthouse that looked like something out of a high-end magazine. Kal didn’t seem to care that he had just picked her up off the street—he was just doing whatever came naturally to him, with no hesitation. Y/N, on the other hand, felt like an intruder in his world. But she didn’t have many other options.

Kal led her into the building without breaking a sweat, pressing the button for the elevator’s top floor as if it were nothing. Y/N could only look around, her mind racing as she tried to understand who this guy was. He didn’t look like some rich playboy. He looked... like someone who didn't take anything seriously.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a penthouse that made her stomach drop. It was vast—wide, open spaces, high ceilings, sleek furniture, walls of glass that looked out onto the sprawling city below. This wasn’t just wealth; it was luxury. Everything looked perfect in the kind of way that made her feel out of place. But Kal didn’t seem to notice or care. He walked in like he owned the place, not giving her a second thought.

Once inside, Y/N’s eyes flicked to the massive king-sized bed in the corner of the room. She could already tell it was the only one in the penthouse, and her stomach twisted. Kal caught her gaze and immediately broke the silence, his voice as casual as ever. "That’s my bed," he said, pointing toward it. "Freeloaders get the couch."

Y/N froze, trying not to show how much his words stung. Freeloaders. That was what she was now—she was just here because she needed a place to stay. She didn’t belong in a place like this. The couch, sure, but the bed? That was his domain, not hers.

Her mind was still racing when Kal turned toward her with a small, amused smirk, clearly oblivious to her thoughts. "Anyway," he said, "that’s the couch. Sit there. Sing."

Y/N didn’t have the energy to argue. She grabbed her guitar case and sat on the couch, the weight of the situation bearing down on her. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this night, but it wasn’t this. She didn’t even know what she was doing here.

She opened the guitar case, pulled out her silver guitar, and started tuning it absentmindedly. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this out of place. But playing always helped. The strings felt like home, even if the room around her didn’t.

As she began to strum the first few notes, she noticed Kal standing nearby, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching her closely. His eyes were fixed on her guitar, his lips quirked in the smallest of smiles, but there was something in his gaze that caught her off guard. He wasn’t making fun of her, wasn’t rolling his eyes. He was... listening.

Y/N sang, more for herself than for him. Music was her escape, the one thing she could control. As her voice filled the room, she felt the tension in her body start to ease, her fingers moving fluidly over the strings.

She caught a glance of Kal’s face in the light, and for a moment, she hesitated. He didn’t look like someone who was much older than her—maybe a year or two at most. His face was sharp, but there was something almost childlike about it, an intensity that didn’t belong to someone with his kind of power. How did he afford this penthouse? Why was he alone? Was this some kind of game for him? He didn’t look like someone who belonged in this world, but somehow, he was here.

She didn’t linger on it long. She couldn’t afford to. She finished her song, feeling his gaze on her, wondering if he was going to say something snarky or dismissive, like he usually did. But the silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was just... there. She looked up at him, waiting for the punchline.

Finally, Kal broke the silence with his usual casualness, though there was something in his voice that made her pause. “Not bad,” he said. “Better than most people I’ve heard.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Not bad?”

He shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips. “You’ve got a decent voice. You might actually have something worth listening to.”

Y/N wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or relieved. She wasn’t here to impress him. She just needed to keep her head above water.

She sat back, letting the tension in her shoulders drain. “So, what now? I did the song thing. You satisfied?”

Kal’s expression turned thoughtful, almost lazy. “Yeah, for now. I told you before. You crash here when you need. But you keep up your end of the bargain, alright? You sing, you stay. That’s the deal.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge his intentions. He seemed relaxed, but there was something... off about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she was starting to realize that Kal didn’t take anything seriously. He didn’t care about much—except maybe the entertainment.

She couldn’t quite decide if that made him more dangerous or just... sad.

“You really live like this?” she asked, gesturing around at the luxury of his penthouse. “How old are you, anyway? I swear, you look like you’re still in high school.”

Kal’s eyes flicked to her, and his smirk widened. “I’m a bit older than that, trust me,” he said. “And as for this place? Let’s just say I’ve got a way with... resources.” He glanced toward the window, and for a second, there was something in his expression that wasn’t just cocky. It almost looked... reflective.

Y/N didn’t press. Whatever his deal was, it didn’t really matter. She had her own problems. And, for now, this was her best shot at staying off the streets.

“Fine. I’ll take your offer,” she said, standing up from the couch. “But this arrangement? It’s your idea. I’m just trying to survive.”

Kal shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure, whatever. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.” His eyes flicked down to the silver guitar resting on the couch next to her, and he noticed something. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Hey, Songbird,” he teased, nodding toward the small bird decal on the body of her guitar. “Nice touch. You know, I was wondering if I should start calling you that.”

Y/N blinked at him. “Songbird?”

Kal chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Yeah. You’ve got the whole bird thing going on. You sing, and you’ve got a bird on your guitar. Songbird seems fitting, don’t you think?”

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, not really sure if she should be offended or amused. "You’re ridiculous."

Kal didn’t even flinch. “Yeah, I know. It’s one of my best qualities.” His eyes softened for a second, and there was an almost playful edge to his voice. “But seriously, keep the songbird thing in mind. You might grow into it.”

Y/N sighed, still trying to shake off the weirdness of everything that had just happened. She grabbed her guitar and slung it over her shoulder, walking over to the couch. “I’m crashing here tonight, but don’t think you’re gonna make me your personal jukebox.”

Kal watched her as she plopped down on the couch, his gaze sharp. "Oh, don’t worry. I’m not that predictable." He grinned. “Songbird.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but feel a little relieved. She wasn’t sure what this weird deal was becoming, but for now, the music was the one thing that made sense.

Kal didn’t respond, only leaned against the wall, watching her with that same cocky grin on his face.

“Just remember, you asked for it,” she muttered under her breath as she made her way toward the couch.

Kal raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke again. “Yeah, I did,” he said, his voice soft but still sharp. “And don’t forget, this is your deal. You play, you stay. Simple as that.”

Y/N sat back on the couch, letting the silence fall around them, the weight of their new arrangement hanging in the air between them. For now, this was enough.

—

As the days bled into weeks, Y/N began to settle into a strange, unspoken rhythm in Kal’s penthouse. She had come to rely on the quiet, the isolation of his apartment that wrapped around her like a cocoon. The city outside felt far away, distant and muffled by the thick glass windows. It was safe here, at least in a way. She wasn’t constantly running from the chaos of her old life, and Kal... Kal was there, too, unpredictable and wild as ever.

But the more she spent time around him, the more she noticed things that didn’t add up. He was strong—unnaturally so. Sometimes it was the way he casually lifted heavy objects without a second thought, or how his muscles rippled when he moved, always so fluid and precise. Y/N had seen strong people in her life, sure, but there was a kind of effortless power to Kal that felt... off.

It wasn’t just his physical strength either. It was his behavior. His sudden bursts of energy, the reckless energy that seemed to have no bounds. One moment, he'd be the careless, cocky guy with a snarky joke on his lips; the next, he'd slip into moments of profound silence, his gaze distant, unfocused, as though he was somewhere else entirely. He’d disappear without explanation, sometimes for hours. One night, he left after she’d fallen asleep on the couch, only to return at dawn, still holding onto that same wild, untamed edge he always had.

Y/N didn’t ask about any of it.

There were questions that lingered, things she couldn’t ignore, but she learned early on that pushing Kal to explain himself only made him retreat into that shell he was so good at maintaining. He didn’t like to be questioned. He didn’t want her to probe into the spaces he kept hidden from the world.

So she didn’t.

There was an unspoken understanding between them: she would stay quiet, and in return, he wouldn’t get too close. She didn’t ask him where he went or why he looked so haunted sometimes. And he, in turn, didn’t ask her about her life outside of his penthouse—about why she was really in Metropolis or what had made her run away from her past. They just existed in their own bubble, two people living parallel lives, barely touching but sharing the same space.

Kal seemed to appreciate that. He never seemed annoyed by her silence, never seemed to mind when she let him keep his secrets. And in his own way, he started to acknowledge the little things she did for him. He didn’t give compliments easily, but once, when she was playing a soft tune on her guitar, he’d caught himself saying, “I like that you don’t ask dumb questions. You’re not like everyone else.”

Y/N had looked up from her guitar, surprised at the sudden honesty in his voice. She’d opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, unsure of how to respond. Kal didn’t elaborate, just gave her a smirk before walking off. But those words stayed with her. It was strange, hearing him admit something that wasn’t wrapped up in sarcasm or bravado.

Despite his gruff exterior, Kal was starting to soften around her. And maybe she was softening, too. She’d never intended for any of this to happen—the closeness, the quiet moments they shared—but now, it seemed natural. She played for him more often, the simple strums of her guitar filling the silence between them.

Kal, for all his chaotic energy, became a steady presence in her life. He didn’t talk much, but he listened when she played. And that, in itself, was something she hadn’t expected.

He would sit on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, eyes closed, but Y/N could always feel his gaze on her—intense, almost as if he were trying to understand her through the notes she played. Sometimes, she thought he looked at her like he was trying to find something. She wasn’t sure if it was about her or about himself, but it made her uneasy in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

The first time she really noticed it was when she played a song that was more than just a song—it was a piece of herself, raw and vulnerable. The lyrics came from a place of longing, of wanting to escape, of trying to outrun the ghosts of the past. As she played, she felt herself losing control of the music, the emotion spilling out. She was giving him a piece of her, but she didn’t even realize it until it was too late.

Kal didn’t stop her, though. He didn’t say a word. But when the last note faded away, he sat there in silence for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and almost... gentle.

“That was good. Really good.”

Y/N couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Kal’s approval, or whatever it was, felt like a small victory. She didn’t need him to say more, though. It was just nice knowing that for once, he was actually listening. Not to her words, not to the outside world, but to her music.

And that became their rhythm—her playing and him listening. It was unspoken, but it was enough.

Despite his recklessness, despite the way he still kept a certain distance from her, Y/N could tell something was shifting in him. His behavior was still unpredictable—he was still prone to disappearing into the night, still reckless in the way he treated the world around him. But with her music, there was a subtle shift. A softening. Kal found something in her songs, something he couldn’t find anywhere else. He never admitted it, but Y/N could see it in the way he relaxed when she played.

One evening, after a particularly rough day in the city, Kal had come home late. He was quiet, even by his standards, and it didn’t take long for Y/N to realize he wasn’t in the mood for company. She had been playing her guitar quietly when he dropped onto the couch, eyes unfocused.

He hadn’t said much, pacing around the apartment, checking his wrist every few minutes, fidgeting with his class ring like it was something more than just a piece of jewelry. Y/N had been used to his erratic behavior by now, but there was something in his movements that felt... off. She’d tried to get him to talk, but he just shrugged it off with one of his usual nonchalant smirks.

By the time the sun had set, he’d grown quieter, the energy in the room heavier. They were sitting on the couch, her guitar resting on her lap, when he suddenly stiffened. It was subtle at first, a brief wince across his face. But then, his whole body seemed to freeze. He gripped his chest, his breath catching in a way that made Y/N’s heart skip.

“Kal?” she asked, setting her guitar down, standing quickly to move toward him. “Are you okay?”

But before she could reach him, Kal collapsed to the ground, his body trembling violently, the pain clear in his face. He gasped for breath, his hands clutching at his chest like he was trying to hold something in.

“Kal!” Y/N knelt beside him, panicked.

It wasn’t until she saw the faint glow under his shirt, the burn that was radiating from his chest, that she understood. Kal ripped his shirt open to reveal the biggest scar Y/N had ever seen. It looked like it was burned into his skin, pulsing with unnatural light, as if alive, and Kal was struggling to keep himself together under its weight. His breath came in sharp, painful gasps, and the glow grew more intense with every passing second.

“Kal, what’s happening?!” Y/N asked, voice frantic, but he couldn’t respond.

He reached up, his fingers shaking as he tried to pull the class ring from his finger, but it wasn’t easy. His hand was trembling so violently that it took several tries before he finally managed to slip it off. As soon as he did, the glow of the brand seemed to fade, but his breathing didn’t even out.

“Kal, you need to rest,” she urged, lifting his arm to help him stand. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He didn’t fight her as she helped him to his feet, though he was clearly struggling to stay upright. The moment he stepped forward, his legs buckled, and he collapsed back onto the floor, unable to stand.

Y/N’s heart was pounding. She didn’t know what else to do, so she did the only thing she could think of: she helped him into his bedroom. She guided him to the bed, her hands shaking as she tried to make him as comfortable as possible.

Kal barely registered her touch, his eyes glazed and distant. She could see the deep exhaustion in his face, the way the light from the brand had drained all the color from his skin.

“Just… just lie down,” she whispered, pushing him gently into the bed. He didn’t fight her, but his expression was so hollow, so empty, that it made her chest tighten.

Once he was settled, Y/N stepped back, watching him for a moment. His eyes were closed now, but his body was still tense, his muscles rigid with the strain of whatever the brand was doing to him. It was clear he was fighting something inside of himself.

Y/N took a breath, standing there for a long moment, unsure of what to do. But then, before she could move, Kal’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.

“Stay,” he muttered hoarsely, his voice raw and strained.

She didn’t hesitate. She sat down beside him, placing her hand over his where it still gripped her wrist. For a moment, they were just silent, her fingers intertwined with his.

She didn’t ask him what was going on. She didn’t ask why he was in pain or what the mark meant. She didn’t ask for any explanations.

Instead, she simply stayed.

Kal’s breathing evened out slowly, his body relaxing slightly as he adjusted to the quiet presence beside him. But something in his expression shifted. His eyes opened, and he looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time in what felt like forever. There was something in his gaze—something vulnerable, something raw. And before she could even register what was happening, he tugged her closer, pulling her into bed with him.

Y/N froze for a moment, surprised by the closeness, but Kal didn’t seem to care. His grip on her was steady, like he needed her there, like he couldn’t quite hold it together without her.

She didn’t protest. There was a strange stillness in the air, one that neither of them seemed to want to break. She lay beside him, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, and for a long while, neither of them spoke.

Kal’s fingers still clutched the class ring in his hand, the heavy metal like a tether between him and whatever he was running from. Slowly, after a few minutes, he slipped the ring back onto his finger.

As soon as the ring touched his skin, his breathing evened out completely, the pain seeming to vanish like it had never been there at all. But the shift in the air, the quiet tension between them, lingered. Kal didn’t move, didn’t try to pull away.

They stayed like that for the rest of the night. Not talking. Not asking questions. Just sharing the silence.

And though there was nothing between them but the unspoken, a new understanding passed between them in that quiet moment. Something had changed.

–

The days following that night felt strangely normal. Despite everything that had happened—the quiet, the unspoken moments, the way Kal had pulled her into bed with him and then slipped the ring back on, the intense weight of everything unsaid—things had just... resumed. They had gone back to their usual, odd routine.

Y/N didn’t ask about it. She didn’t question what had transpired between them. She didn’t need to. Kal didn’t talk about himself much, and she wasn’t in any position to push him. She simply spent her days doing what she did best: writing music, playing her guitar, living in the space Kal had given her, the penthouse that now felt like an odd combination of sanctuary and mystery.

And Kal? He was there, sometimes. He would disappear for a few hours here and there, always leaving with that same cold, faraway look in his eyes, but he’d always return, the tension in his shoulders just a little looser. They never spoke about the night the brand had burned—never mentioned the quiet, strange bond that had formed between them.

And then, one night, she came home to find it all gone.

She walked into the penthouse, humming a new melody she had been working on, the notes still fresh in her mind. She was excited. She had written something that felt important. Something that felt right. She had been itching to share it with Kal, eager to see if he’d pick up on the small changes in her sound.

But when she stepped inside, something felt off. There was no sign of Kal, not a trace of him anywhere. His jacket was gone from the back of the chair, the clutter of his usual disarray absent. The place felt… empty. Unfinished.

"Kal?" she called out, expecting him to appear from around the corner with that cocky smirk of his, but there was no answer.

She wandered through the apartment, heart pounding a little faster, until she reached the living room. Her eyes fell on the coffee table, where two things immediately caught her attention: a set of keys, and a piece of paper.

Y/N’s stomach dropped as she approached, her feet dragging her to the table as if drawn by some force she didn’t understand. The keys were familiar, the silver glint of them a reminder of the penthouse she had come to call home. The paper, however, was what made her stop in her tracks.

It was the deed to the penthouse. But something was different. Her name was written across the top—scrawled in Kal’s handwriting. The deed was now hers.

She reached for it slowly, as if afraid it would disappear in her hands, her heart suddenly too loud in her chest. Her fingers skimmed the paper, her breath caught in her throat. There was no note. No explanation. No message from Kal. Nothing to tell her why.

Y/N stood in silence, the weight of the paper heavy in her hands. The apartment around her felt like a shell, empty and distant. The silence stretched on, oppressive in its stillness. She wanted to call out to him. She wanted to understand, to know why he was gone, why there was no goodbye.

But there was no answer. No sound.

She looked around the apartment again, her heart aching, her thoughts swirling. Where had he gone? Why had he left without a word? And why had he given her the keys, the deed? What had it all meant?

Her mind refused to settle on an answer. All she had were the keys in her hand and the empty apartment around her, like a stage that had once been filled with something important, something real, and now was nothing more than a backdrop for memories she didn’t understand.

Y/N stood there for what felt like an eternity, her thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and questions. She wanted to ask him. She wanted to demand an explanation. But she knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t have given her one.

Kal had never been good at goodbyes. He didn’t need to say anything. His absence spoke louder than any words could.

And as Y/N stood there, alone in the silence of the penthouse that was now hers, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had ever truly known him at all.

—

Seven years later

—

Clark Kent sat at his desk at the Daily Planet, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he sifted through the latest news. His mind was still lingering on the morning’s breaking story when Perry’s voice cut through the newsroom.

“Kent! My office. Now.”

Clark groaned inwardly but didn’t argue. He stood up, straightened his tie, and walked over to Perry’s office, already anticipating whatever mess he was about to walk into.

Perry didn’t even look up as Clark entered, tossing a file onto the desk in front of him.

“You’re covering for Sasha today,” Perry grunted, his voice gruff as ever.

Clark raised an eyebrow. “Sasha? I don’t cover entertainment.”

Perry shot him a sharp look. “Well, you will today. Sasha’s sick last minute, and the interview’s already set up. I’m not sending anyone else, and you have the afternoon free. The subject’s recording a new album, and we need an interview for the front page.”

Clark frowned, his frustration mounting. “This isn’t fair, Perry. I’m a serious journalist. I’ve been covering hard news—”

“You’ll be seriously unemployed if you don’t do this,” Perry interrupted, cutting him off with a sharp tone. He was dead serious, no room for argument.

Clark’s jaw tightened. “Fine,” he muttered, leaning over to glance at the file Perry had handed him. He opened it up, expecting some pop-star fluff piece. What he didn’t expect was the name written across the top.

Y/N.

It didn’t register at first—just another pop star. Another headline. No big deal. His eyes skimmed the rest of the file, reading about her latest album and upcoming tour, but the name didn’t mean anything to him.

He looked back at Perry. “Who is this? Some random pop star?”

Perry leaned back in his chair with an exasperated expression. “Seriously? Forbes 100 most influential people, 4 time Grammy winner?”

Clark stared back with a blank expression. Perry sighed.

Clark threw the file into his bag, frustrated but resigned. He’d cover this like any other assignment, even if it meant interviewing some famous musician who didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

“Get going, Kent. You’ve got an interview to do.”

-- a/n: this is just the prologue. this story has been completely mapped out and is a wild ride. hope you all enjoy :)

no. 1 party anthem — clark kent (superman) ! ᢉ𐭩

⟢ synopsis. what was supposed to be a night for work takes an unexpected turn when you run into clark kent—alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date who seems to have no intention of showing up. poor guy.

⟢ contains. clark kent x reader, ots and lots of fluff! it is one of the more romantic things i have written, cute blind date, characters are dumb, set up date, lois is a mastermind, i do not know anything about journalism, pinning from both sides but too shy to do anything about it.

⟢ word count. 5.8k+

⟢ author’s note. i can’t get this man outta my head pls help me 😣 the voices!!! also feel free to imagine this as any clark (and i mean any i swear: comic book, adventures with superman, tom welling, david corenswet, henry cavill, or even reeve)

“Hey, you’re gonna hate me but I’m gonna be like 10 minutes late. You go ahead and check in and order. The table should be under my name. I’ll pay the bill. I’m so sorry!”

You weren’t exactly surprised when the message lit up your phone screen. You rolled your eyes, exhaling through your nose. If there was one thing you knew about Lois Lane, it was that urgency wasn’t always her strong suit—unless it involved an exclusive scoop or a headline-worthy disaster with Superman. Still, considering this was supposed to be a work-related meeting, you had half-expected her to arrive early, not leave you waiting.

You typed out a quick reply, telling her it was fine when it really wasn’t, telling her to take her time when you wished she wouldn’t. Then, slipping your phone back into your bag, you made your way toward the hostess stand.

“Table under the name Lane?” you asked, offering a polite smile.

The hostess nodded, flashing you a warm smile in return. “Right this way.”

As she led you through the restaurant, you took in your surroundings with subtle curiosity. The place was charming—exactly the kind of cozy, floral-accented spot Lois would dig up for an ‘informal work chat.’ The kind of place that felt like it had stories tucked between its soft candlelit tables and ivy-draped walls.

You tried to dress the part, too—professional but approachable. You weren’t here for a casual dinner, after all. This meeting was supposed to be a quick sit-down with a lawyer Lois had arranged, someone who could confirm a few key details for a piece you were both working on. A case involving a corporation and some shady legal maneuvering—Lois had the sources, but you were the one handling the research. You’d spent the past week buried in legal jargon, piecing together statements and contracts, and now you just needed a professional to verify what you suspected before the article could go to print.

By the time you reached your table, you were already running through the questions in your head, mentally preparing for the conversation. The restaurant wasn’t grand, but it was stunning in its own way. You admired the decor, taking in the quiet hum of conversation and the delicate clink of silverware.

At least if Lois was late, you had time to go over your notes one more time.

You ran your hands over your portfolio, smoothing the cover absentmindedly as you flipped through the pages. The neatly typed notes stared back at you, but none of the words really registered. All you could do was wait—for the lawyer, for Lois, for some sign that this wasn’t going to be a complete waste of time.

With a sigh, you reached for the glass of wine you ordered a few minutes ago, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. You had to pace yourself, or you’d drain the whole thing before anyone even showed up. You checked your phone, hoping for an update, but the screen remained frustratingly blank.

Disappointed, you rested your chin on your hand, eyes drifting across the restaurant. The warm glow of golden light reflected off polished wood and delicate floral centrepieces, the soft murmur of conversation blending with the occasional clink of silverware. Your waiter had already stopped by twice, politely offering more appetizers while you tried not to look as painfully alone as you felt. If they came by again, you weren’t sure if you’d accept out of politeness or embarrassment.

And then, just as you took another sip of wine, a familiar figure walked through the entrance.

Clark Kent.

You blinked, watching as the hostess led him inside, guiding him through the rows of neatly arranged tables. Even from where you sat, you recognized the way he carried himself—like he was constantly trying to shrink his presence, shoulders slightly hunched, movements careful and deliberate. It was ironic, really, considering how much space he naturally took up. Clark was tall, broad-shouldered, and impossible to miss, yet he carried himself like he didn’t want to be noticed.

You knew him, but not really.

Not as much as you want to.

You were office acquaintances at best—two reporters who shared the same workplace, desks across from each other, but rarely the same conversations. There had been moments, though. Fleeting ones. Catching his lingering glances during late nights at the Daily Planet, both of you working in near silence, save for the tapping of keyboards. A handful of polite exchanges over the coffee machine, his voice always gentle, soft-spoken. And then, of course, there were the times someone would call out "Hey, Smallville!" across the office, earning a sheepish smile from Clark as he adjusted his glasses and ducked his head.

He looked nice tonight. Not too different from his usual work attire, but more relaxed. A crisp button-up, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal a strong line of his forearms, dress pants fitted just right. He had forgone the tie, leaving the top button undone. Simple, but put-together. Effortless in a way that shouldn’t have been so charming, but somehow was.

And then you realized the hostess was leading him closer.

You quickly dropped your gaze, staring into your half-empty wine glass like it suddenly held the secrets of the universe. The last thing you wanted was to be caught staring, especially while sitting alone, nursing a drink, and very clearly sulking.

Maybe, just maybe, if you looked busy enough, you could avoid drawing any attention at all.

And for a moment, it worked.

You picked up your phone again, checking the time for what had to be the hundredth time that night. With a little too much urgency, you started to type out a message to Lois—something casual, something that wouldn’t sound desperate, something that would make it seem like you weren’t upset about currently sitting alone in a nice restaurant, swirling the last remnants of your wine waiting for her to get there. You were so focused on forming the perfect text that you almost missed it—

Your name.

Spoken softly, but clear. Familiar.

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard. The voice had a weight to it, warm and steady, like someone genuinely surprised but pleased to see you. You swallowed and glanced up, feigning a search for the source before your gaze finally landed on Clark.

He wasn’t seated directly beside you but rather at the table across, angled just enough that you had to turn your head slightly to meet his eye. His lips curled into a sheepish smile, glasses slipping just a little down the bridge of his nose before he quickly pushed them back up again.

“Hi.”

That was all. Just hi. Simple, unassuming, but it made something settle in your chest, something you hadn’t even realized was tense.

You couldn’t bite back the smile forming on your own lips. “Hi, Clark.”

“Hey.”

A kind man with few words.

Though you’d heard him talk endlessly before, especially with Lois—deep in discussion, debating headlines, getting lost in conversations about ethics and reporting. But with you, it was always something short and sweet. A few words here and there. And yet, even the simplest conversations had a way of lingering. Would it be silly to admit that your brief, slightly awkward chats with Clark kind of made your day? Even when it was just him asking to borrow an extra pen?

God, you felt like a teenager again, having a crush on a classmate.

You watched as he rubbed at his cheek, the scruff there catching the soft glow of the restaurant lighting. His pointer finger rested idly at the seam of his lips, and you forced yourself to focus—not to stare at his mouth, not to let your gaze linger anywhere it shouldn’t.

He was your coworker, for fuck’s sake.

A really pretty one.

A really kind, really good-looking coworker.

You exhaled lightly, pressing your fingertips against the stem of your glass as if that might ground you. “It’s nice to see you.” The words came out before you could stop them, but they were true. It was nice.

It was almost like he perked up at that, his posture straightening just a little. “Yeah, great to see you too. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I... I could say the same.” Your cheeks were starting to hurt from how much you were smiling. You tried to temper it, but it was hard when Clark Kent was looking at you like that—all honey-eyed.

“Are you here for work?” he asked, casting a pointed look at the portfolio by your hands, stacked neatly beside your drink.

You glanced down at it as if you had momentarily forgotten it was there. “Um, yeah. I’m meeting with a source, so... they should be here any minute.”

Clark’s brows lifted slightly. “It’s your story on LexCorp, right?”

Your fingers, which had been absently tracing the condensation on your glass, paused. “Yeah, it is actually.” You blinked at him, a little surprised. “How’d you know?”

His smile was almost bashful, his hand brushing the back of his neck in that way he always did when he was being modest. “Oh, I just remember you mentioning it a few days ago. It’s a great story.”

Something in your chest tightened—not in a bad way, just in a way that made you feel warm all over. You hadn’t expected him to remember, let alone bring it up. The conversation you’d had at work had been so brief, just an offhand remark about how you were stepping outside your usual comfort zone. No one else had really asked you about it since.

“You think?” You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I thought it was kind of a stretch. I mean, like—a stretch from what I usually write, you know? I don’t really deal with politics and corporate stuff and all that.”

Clark shook his head, that gentle, reassuring look in his eyes making it impossible not to believe him. “I’m sure it’ll be great. You’re an amazing writer.”

You were smiling even wider now. Compliments weren’t uncommon at the Daily Planet—people gave each other nods of approval, a “good job” here and there. But Clark said it like he meant it, like he had read your work, thought about it, believed in it.

It reminded you of the time he had quietly left a sticky note on your desk after an article of yours had been rushed to print. Really great work on this one! -CK. You’d found it hours later, after everyone had gone home. It had been such a small thing, but you’d kept the note tucked inside your notebook anyway.

You felt your cheeks warm. “Thanks, Clark. I think you’re a great writer too.”

He ducked his head slightly, smiling. “Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence, not awkward, just something familiar to the pauses between you two at the office. Expect this time you didn’t have any work to distract yourself with. You hesitated before finally breaking it.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what’re you doing here?”

“I, uh… I have a date, actually.”

“Oh.”

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. But for some reason, you felt your stomach drop slightly, and you almost wanted to smack yourself in the head for not catching on sooner. Of course, he was here on a date, looking like that—all charming and shy.

He even smelled good, like fresh linen and something warm, something undeniably Clark.

“I know how it looks,” he started, and you noticed the way his shoulders began to hunch in on themselves like he was trying to make himself smaller. “Feels strange. I don’t think I’ve been dating since college.”

You let out a breath of amusement, nodding slowly. “Wow. Uh—good for you, though. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, I mean…” He hesitated, then glanced up at you, a little sheepish. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s a blind date, so I have no idea what this person looks like or who they are.”

You blinked. “You don’t know anything?”

“They’re a friend of Lois.” He exhaled lightly, shaking his head. “But that’s as much as I got.”

“Oh.” Your lips parted, then closed. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Clark.” You shot him a small, hopefully reassuring smile. “I’ll be here for moral support.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’ve got your thing to worry about.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help a friend out too.”

The words left your mouth before you had a chance to really think about them. Friend. You wondered if you could even call yourselves that. You were more acquaintances if anything—a friend of a friend. But Clark always did little favours for you, and he was always kind to you.

Like the time he had grabbed you a coffee when you’d been stuck in a seemingly endless editorial meeting, dropping it off at your desk without a word. Just a small smile, a quiet “figured you could use one.”

Or the time he’d helped you carry an entire box of research binders up three flights of stairs because the elevator was down. He had done it without hesitation, without you even asking, took it from your hands like it was weightless.

Then there was the time he had lent you his jacket when an assignment had left you stranded in the rain. It had been late, the Daily Planet nearly empty, and you had been standing by the windows, arms wrapped around yourself, shivering slightly as you tried to figure out how to make it home without getting completely drenched. Clark had passed by, paused, then shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Just give it back tomorrow,” he’d said.

But it wasn’t just him.

You had done things for him too.

The time you had stayed late to help him rework an article after an editor had torn through it with a red pen, sitting beside him as the newsroom emptied, tossing ideas back and forth until it finally felt right. He had looked at you then, something warm in his eyes, and said, “I owe you one.”

Or the time he had misplaced his glasses—how he had checked every possible spot, growing more and more flustered, only for you to walk over and pluck them from where they had been resting atop his head. You had laughed, shaking your head as you handed them back. He had gone pink in the ears, mumbling something about being forgetful, but the way he had smiled after made you think he didn’t mind the teasing.

Then there was the time you had covered for him when he had mysteriously disappeared right before a meeting. Lois had been looking for him, impatient and muttering about how he always seemed to vanish at the worst times. You had lied—just a small one. Said he had mentioned stepping out for a quick errand, and that he’d be back soon. You weren’t sure why you had done it.

Helping him out never hurt. So it shouldn’t hurt one more time.

Well, maybe it would. Just a little bit.

It might hurt your pride, mostly.

“Besides,” you continued, “I’ve been here for almost twenty minutes and no one’s showed up.”

“That’s... odd.”

“I know,” you muttered, glancing at your phone again, the screen glowing with no new notifications. You hesitated, thumb hovering over your messages before sighing and picking it up. “Can you excuse me for a second?”

“Of course,” Clark said, ever patient, though his brows knit together slightly in concern.

You slid out of your seat, weaving through the dimly lit restaurant. The warm hum of conversation filled the air, glasses clinking, silverware scraping against plates. A jazz melody played softly from the speakers, almost drowned out by the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table. You stepped toward the front, near the entrance, where it was quieter, and pressed the phone to your ear.

Lois hadn’t answered your last two—three?—messages. You tried calling her once. The line rang and rang, then went to voicemail. You exhaled sharply and called again, tapping your fingers against the wooden counter near the hostess stand.

On the last ring, she finally picked up.

"Hello-?"

“Where are you?” You didn’t bother hiding the frustration in your voice, pacing a little near the door.

"I'm... on my way, I swear."

“You said that almost half an hour ago, Lois.”

"I know, I know—I’m sorry. I was just about to call—"

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling through your teeth. “And the lawyer, do you know when they’ll get here?”

A pause.

"I… I don’t know."

Your stomach dropped. “You don’t know?”

"No… now that I think about it… I don’t think I confirmed a time."

“Lois,” you breathed, dragging a hand down your face.

"I’m sorry. Maybe we should rain check. I’ll leave them a message or something and we can do this another day."

You glanced back toward your table, then toward Clark, who was politely minding his own business, idly staring at his menu. Your eyes flickered to your untouched portfolio, the very reason you had come out tonight in the first place.

“I need the papers approved by Wednesday.”

"And it’s Saturday night. You have plenty of time."

“This is rich coming from you,” you deadpanned, rubbing your temple.

"I know, just… maybe it’s a sign you gotta take things slow. You know, focusing on yourself instead of work. Maybe you should go to a club or something."

You scoffed, barely biting back an incredulous laugh. “Lois… this fucking sucks.”

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, okay? I’ll take you out tomorrow for brunch, swear on that. I promise. And I’ll transfer you for whatever you order tonight. Keep the receipt and give it to me."

You sighed, glancing down at your shoes. “I’m just gonna go home.”

"What? And waste a perfectly good night? You should stay out, meet new people, socialize with things that aren’t your laptop. Doesn’t that sound nice?"

You exhaled, staring blankly at the floor tiles. “I think a movie from my bed sounds really nice.”

"I’m not even gonna fight you on this."

“Bye, Lois.”

"Bye. Love you."

You ended the call with a quiet sigh, lingering in place for a moment, letting the frustration settle. You had spent the entire day mentally preparing for this meeting, running through questions, making sure every document was in order. Now, all of it felt like wasted energy.

With another steadying breath, you pushed off the pillar you had been leaning against, shoulders still tight with frustration, and made your way back to your table. The restaurant hadn’t gotten any quieter in your absence—if anything, the crowd had only grown as the night grew longer.

Clark glanced up as you returned, and the way his expression softened told you everything—he didn’t even need to ask how the call had gone. He just knew.

Still, before he could say anything, you beat him to it. “Your date’s not here yet?” You sank back into your seat, brushing a stray napkin aside as if the small action would help ground you.

Clark shook his head, and he didn’t seem too disappointed. “No, not yet.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you in that quiet, observant way of his. “Is everything alright?”

You blinked at him, still half in your own thoughts. “Hmm?”

“The phone call,” he clarified, “you seem… a little… annoyed.”

That was putting it lightly.

He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should push further, then asked, voice gentle, “Do you want to talk about it?”

The simplicity of it—the way he just offered, no pressure, no expectations—unravelled some of the tension in your chest.

“I don’t wanna bother you about my stuff,” you said honestly.

“It’s no bother.”

You glanced up at him, at the unwavering patience in his expression. “You’re really sweet, Clark. You know that, right?”

A faint pink dusted the tips of his ears. “I wouldn’t say that…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s in your nature?” you teased.

He let out a small, awkward laugh, shaking his head. “I definitely wouldn’t say that either.”

That made you smile—something small, something real.

“Well, it’s true,” you insisted. “Must’ve been the way you were raised.”

“Must’ve been.”

Before you could say anything else, a waiter arrived, carefully setting a starter plate and a drink down in front of Clark. He thanked her politely, offering a small nod before she walked away.

“I, uh…” He gestured to the plate. “I ordered some nachos if you want some.”

You raised a brow. “Shouldn’t those be for your date?”

He gave you an easy, lopsided smile. “They won’t have to know.”

A small chuckle slipped out before you could stop it. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The nachos were surprisingly good, crisp and warm under the layer of melted cheese, but you barely tasted them. Instead, your focus kept drifting—to Clark, to your phone, to the door.

At first, you thought about calling it a night. You could have told Clark you were heading home, and he probably would have understood, probably would have even offered to walk you to your car or wait with you for an Uber. But something stopped you.

Maybe it was the way he seemed at ease, talking to you like there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be. Maybe it was how easy it was to talk to him tonight, without work looming over you, without deadlines keeping your conversations clipped and efficient. Or maybe—maybe it was the nagging feeling in your gut that kept telling you he was waiting on someone who wasn’t going to show.

You hated that thought.

You didn’t say anything, though, not when another ten minutes passed, not when he checked his phone for the fourth—or was it fifth?—time. You just sat with him, keeping him company, even if you dreaded the moment someone else walked through those doors.

Clark kept insisting his date would be there soon. But every time he said it, the confidence in his voice waned.

By the time another twenty minutes passed, you were sitting with your phone open in your lap, ready to call an Uber. You should go home. It had been a long day, and you weren’t exactly in the mood to be out any more. But you hesitated when Clark spoke again.

“They should be here any minute now,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You glanced up at him, watching the way his brows pinched slightly as he checked his phone again.

He had said that before. More than once.

You were starting to feel bad for him.

You couldn’t imagine what it felt like to get stood up for a date (work was something else you could get over by tonight but a date?)—to wait around, watching the minutes tick by, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the person you were waiting for was running late instead of ignoring you altogether. And worse, you were starting to get peeved. How could anyone ghost Clark Kent?

But you didn’t say anything. Because he didn’t seem upset.

Or maybe he was just pretending not to be.

Either way, you didn’t want to remind him of the rejection. If he was pushing through it, then so were you.

It wasn’t until another thirty minutes flew by—until the sky outside had fully darkened, the city lights reflecting off the windows—that you finally exhaled and set your phone down.

“My source isn’t coming.”

Clark blinked at you, pulling his gaze away from the door. “Oh?”

“Yeah, there was a mix-up with the times or something.” You waved it off like it was no big deal, even though frustration still sat heavy in your chest. You weren’t nearly as mad as you had been earlier, but you had still wasted your night on something that should have been simple.

Clark studied you for a moment, then gave a small, almost amused huff. “Looks like we’re both out of luck then.”

You watched as his gaze flickered back toward the entrance, and then, after a beat, he sighed.

“I don’t think my date’s coming either.”

Your stomach twisted.

“I’m sorry, Clark,” you said, and you meant it.

“Don’t be,” he told you, and before you could say anything else, he was already flagging down the waiter, asking for the bill. Then, as casually as if he were asking about the weather, he turned back to you and said, “Wanna get out of here?”

You blinked. “And go where?”

He shrugged, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Anywhere. I don’t mind.”

And somehow, that was how you ended up walking down the streets of Metropolis, shoulder to shoulder with Clark Kent.

The night air was crisp, cool enough that you tugged your coat tighter around yourself. The sidewalks were busy with people, cars rolling lazily through the streets, their headlights casting soft glows against the pavement.

You weren’t sure how you had gotten here—how a frustrating, dead-end night had turned into this. But you didn’t hate it.

In fact, you were enjoying every minute of it.

The streets of Metropolis buzzed with an early-night energy. Neon signs flickered, storefronts cast golden light onto the pavement, and the hum of conversation from passing pedestrians filled the air. You walked close to Clark, close enough that your arms brushed with every step.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something trusted about it—something new.

You risked a glance at him. He was looking straight ahead, hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders relaxed. But when the light of a passing car swept over his face, you caught the way his jaw tensed slightly, like he was thinking about something.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable for a split second before softening into something reassuring. “Yeah. Why?”

You lifted a shoulder, tucking your hands into your coat pockets as you shrugged. “Just… getting stood up sucks. I figured you’d be at least a little upset.”

Clark exhaled a small huff of amusement. “I mean, yeah, I guess I could be. But I’d rather not waste my night sulking about it.”

You nodded, accepting his answer. But then, after a few seconds, you heard him add, quieter, “Besides… I’m having a nice time.”

Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

You kept your gaze forward, pretending like those words didn’t sink into you in a way that left you warm despite the cool night air.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

The conversation lulled again, but this time, it felt different. More aware. More weighted.

And then Clark suddenly spoke.

“Can I show you something?”

You blinked at him, surprised by the shift. “Uh… sure?”

He smiled, but there was something almost shy about it, something hesitant like he was second-guessing himself. “It’s not far.”

Curious, you followed his lead, stepping off the main sidewalk as he turned down a quieter street, where the glow of streetlights gave way to something softer, something greener.

Within moments, you realized where you were headed.

The city park.

You’d been here plenty of times before—Metropolis had its fair share of green spaces, a welcome contrast to the steel and glass of the skyline—but Clark led you past the more well-known paths, past the benches where couples sat talking in hushed tones, past the fountain that usually served as a meeting place.

Eventually, he guided you toward a narrow, gated pathway, tucked between a stretch of trees. He reached for the gate, pausing before glancing back at you.

“It’s, uh… it’s kind of a secret spot.”

You tilted your head, grinning. “Secret?”

His lips quirked. “Sort of. I mean, it’s public, but not many people know about it.”

“Riiight... totally not a cheesy thing to say.”

“Just, come look.”

You watched as he pushed the gate open, stepping aside to let you through first.

You hesitated for only a second before slipping past him, your shoulder brushing lightly against his chest as you stepped inside.

And then you saw it.

A sheltered little garden.

It wasn’t grand, but it was beautiful. A small, enclosed space, with an arched trellis overhead wrapped in evergrowing vines. Flowers bloomed in neatly arranged clusters, their colours muted under the soft glow of the moon and city. A narrow stone pathway curved through the space, leading to a bench beneath another canopy of vines.

The whole thing felt… unreal. Quiet. Removed from the city entirely.

You turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. “This is…” You exhaled, searching for the right word. “Wow.”

Clark smiled, stepping further in behind you. “I found it by accident a while ago. It’s kind of nice, right?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Kinda nice is an understatement, Smallville.”

The two of you lingered in the quiet, the city’s distant sounds muffled by the greenery around you. And when you looked at Clark again, you caught it—

That brief hesitation. That barely-there glance.

Something unreadable flickered across his face before he cleared his throat, looking away, suddenly busying himself with adjusting his glasses.

It was awkward. Endearing.

And for some reason, it made your heart beat just a little faster.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to break the silence. “So, what, you bring all your failed dates here?” you teased lightly.

Clark huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No. Just you.”

His voice was light, teasing back—but something about it stuck with you.

Just you.

You had no idea what to say to that.

So instead, you just smiled. And hoped the darkness hid the warmth rising in your face.

Clark shifted beside you, tucking his hands deeper into his pockets, gaze flickering toward the night sky. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Just... don’t tell Lois about this place.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Or else it’ll be on the front cover of the Daily Planet and it won’t be so secret anymore.”

You snorted. “Figured.”

Then, almost immediately, your lips twisted into a frown. “Ugh, you know what? I’m still kinda pissed off with Lois.”

Clark’s eyebrows lifted. “Lois? What—why?”

You sighed, rubbing at your temple. “She was the one who arranged the whole meeting with the lawyer today. My source. She forgot to confirm or something and cancelled last minute. Can you believe it?”

Clark blinked. “Not really.”

“Yeah, me neither. She’s probably got caught up with Superman again or something—I don’t know.”

Clark’s head tilted slightly, brows drawing together. “Sorry? Superman?”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s just an inside joke between us and our friends. Since she’s so close with the guy, we joke that whenever she’s acting weird, it’s because of him.”

Clark let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Does she usually?”

“Not really. But we like to watch her squirm when we bring it up.” You smirked. “Anyway, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s been acting weird all week.”

Clark hummed, his gaze thoughtful. “Yeah, I noticed that too. When she was telling me about this date, she just... wasn’t herself, I guess. Left a lot of things in the dark.”

Your steps faltered slightly, your brows knitting together as something in his words made your stomach twist. You turned to look at him, trying to piece together the implications of what he was saying.

“Wait—” You exhaled, mind racing. “Lois set you up?”

Clark slowed as well, blinking as if he’d only just realized you hadn’t put it together yet. “Uh… yeah?” He frowned slightly. “I did say my date was a friend of hers.”

“Right.” You blinked, mind catching up. “Sorry, I must’ve forgotten.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

The sounds of the city—distant honking, the chatter of pedestrians, the hum of neon signs—faded into a dull blur. It was as if the entire world had taken a collective breath and was holding it, waiting for the two of you to catch up.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The pieces clicked together—Lois arranging your meeting, forgetting to confirm, being strangely vague about the details.

Oh.

Oh.

Your stomach flipped as realization crashed over you like a tidal wave.

Clark’s eyes widened just a fraction, his breath hitching. And then, almost at the same time—

“…No way.”

You exhaled a quiet, incredulous laugh, shaking your head as your mind reeled. Clark let out a chuckle of his own, one hand running through his hair, his fingers ruffling the strands at the back of his head. His ears—just barely visible under the glow of a nearby streetlight—had turned the faintest shade of pink again.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just looked at each other, as if confirming that, yes, this was real, and yes, Lois Lane had absolutely just played matchmaker.

“Well,” Clark finally said, voice warm, laced with amusement. “At least we won’t have to spend the whole night getting to know each other.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Yeah. Guess not.”

The tension in your shoulders, the nervous energy, the awkwardness of the night—it all melted into something else entirely. Something softer. Something that felt… kind of nice.

Clark was still smiling, his blue eyes bright behind his glasses, and you had to resist the urge to look away, to keep from giving away the way your heart had started beating just a little faster.

He shifted, his hands slipping into his pockets as he glanced down for a second before looking back up at you.

And then, with just the slightest hint of something almost timid in his voice, he asked—

“Can I be honest?”

You tilted your head. “Sure.”

“When Lois was telling me about the date... I was hoping it would be you.”

“…Really?”

Clark nodded, lips pressing together like he was debating whether he should keep going. But then, in a quieter voice, he admitted, “Yeah... It was the only reason I agreed. And when I saw you at the restaurant, I was really excited—until you told me you were there for work.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Sorry I let you down.”

His head snapped up. “No.” He shook his head, quickly, almost too quickly. “You didn’t.”

Your stomach flipped.

“I still had fun,” he added, a little sheepishly.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit. “You should’ve just said something.”

Clark exhaled a laugh, glancing down again. “I know. I just... I’m not really good at this stuff.”

You smiled, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “You’re doing pretty good so far. Had me swept off my feet.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice just a little lower, a little softer.

“Oh yeah.”

A pause. A lingering look.

And then—

“We should do this again.” His lips curled, a little nervous but hopeful. “On purpose next time.”

You grinned widely, feeling warmth spread through you, from your chest to the very tips of your fingers.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’d like that a lot.”

frat boy wally west as your bf headcannons😣😣🙏🏻🙏🏻💕

DATING FRAT BOY!WALLY WEST.

note : you don't get it i literally cheesed so hard when i saw this, this is the funnest idea ever like i love the whole dc boys frat agenda and also i was wanting to write for roy or wally recently so this is perfect 🙈🙈 hope you enjoy

ok so unfortunately you did this to yourself and you're dating a menace

by no means is he a horrible boyfriend or a cheater or anything of the sort

but he's in a fraternity.

no matter what the name of his frat actually is when he first introduces himself, at a house / frat party (may be his frat may not be, that would actually be a cute fic to write but i'm not gonna make any promises okay shush) he says he's from sigma sigma sigma house ???

by no means is he a horrible frat boyfriend or a cheater frat boyfriend or anything of the sort

but he Will quote the worst side of tiktok to you and idk you might begin to think he is a horrible frat boyfriend

no i'm joking wally is so whipped, so obsessed (but not in an actually obsessive way he just really really loves his boo) that he's constantly fighting for his life on the frat gc

because omg you just posted a cute tiktok of you guys again

or hard launched him on your instagram story

despite the pressure of his friends or any of the other guys in his house, i think frat!wally has no issue with his masculinity

maybe frat!wally without a partner could be a little insecure of it, but with his friends and they're messing around drunk all that goes out the window

but when he meets someone like you and you prove to him that you like Him for Him, he has no issue

fuck it he'll do tiktok dances with yoo and won't care if they stay in the drafts or see the light of day

fuck it he'll keep smiling when you start filming him telling him to smile and you're actually recording him with that sound that says smile if u like dick

fuck it he'll dress up as rapunzel when you tell him you want to dress up as rapunzel and flynn rider for halloween at his frat

your biggest supporter, no matter what sport you do, or instrument you play, or hobby you do

he's always there grinning and smiling and hyping you up

becquse you do the same for him when it comes to his track meets

cutest supporters both of youu :(((

always up for a cheeky gym date if you insist except actually he's the one insisting because he loves gym

secretly hopes you'll nom on his biceps

that's like the only reason he works out but he keeps it lowkey

Boyfriend texts with Tim please cause your writing is literally perf!

TIM DRAKE + BOYFRIEND TEXTS.

note : hope this lives up to what you were hoping !!! i have a lot of fun with these but at the same time it's so tricky trying to come up with scenarios 💀💀

Can you do damian bf texts??

DAMIAN WAYNE + BOYFRIEND TEXTS.

note : i'm actually surprised you guys like these so much !!! i lowk thought they were a little bit shit buttttt yeah thanks for requesting !

FAMILY, FAMILY DEAR BATS 🦇

synopsis : What happens when a normal reader enters Batfamily. Not by getting orphaned or saved but rather just visiting her uncle for the first time ( it's Bruce ). Now somehow she's become the unofficial therapist of this family and for unknown reasons the only one with enough common sense.Also why is everyone so Overprotective?

Or

Normal reader X Platonic yandere Batfamily

Chapter 2 :-

Your eyes twinkled open all while you took your surroundings into view. This most definitely wasn't your room. It was too large yet had a tiny elegance to it. Your mind raked where you were -- seconds passed before you realised you were indeed at your uncle's place. 

Getting off the bed, you made your way to the bathroom and freshened yourself up. Your eyes which were in a daze snap open sharply. You smile at your reflection before coming out. 

Walking out you passed through the large and bright hallways and made your way to the kitchen. Mr. Alfred, you remember, was busy making breakfast. " Good morning, Mr Alfred." He greeted you with a smile. The man had a stern yet soft look in his eyes when he glanced in your direction. 

Passing you an eloquent smile he pushed the seat back for you. " Good morning, Miss Julia. You've woken quite early. " You nodded, " I'm an early wake. Also-" You said turning your head left and right. " Where are my parents?"

" They informed me they had to leave early due to an emergency at work. I was told to inform you when you woke.. " 

Wow, your parents really just left you. What happened to spending a few days there? Really- still you couldn't blame them, they always made time for you but sometimes the work got too heavy or an emergency arrived. " Seems like them. " You sighed while taking a seat. 

Mr. Alfred placed breakfast in front of you. You gasped at the amount, it looked like it could feed ten people. Looking back and forth you asked, " Will my cousins or someone else be joining us? "

Mr. Alfred blinked before a smile found its way on his lips. " Master Duke will be joining us." You had a hard time believing he could eat this much. But hey! It's not like you were familiar with how much a young adult ate. 

As if on que you heard a voice from behind, failing to prevent himself from yawning. " Good morning Alfred. What's for breakfast?” Alfred motioned him to look at the table. You heard a gasp, “ Wow, you really prepared a lot! Is everyone coming back already?”

“ They should arrive by evening. Also-” Alfred coughed, his eyes pointing to you. “ You ought to greet our guest.” The boy's eyes finally scan and spot you. 

You slightly turned your head and looked at him. He was really handsome you thought. His skin was practically glowing but the dark circle near his eyes told you he barely slept. 

He came closer and took a seat next to you. Extending his hand and a smile bright on his lips, he greeted you. “ Sorry about that. I was kind of sleepy. Nice to meet you uhh-.” You shake his hand and smile right back. “ Julia..” You reply, “ A pleasure to meet you too.”

“ Duke.” He says and takes a seat. You don't notice him examining you while you eat. He follows your movements and begins to eat. 

So this is Y/n Julia. 

You look so ordinary, practically so small. He scans you with his eyes and powers and finds you to not be a threat. You turn to him confused as to why he's been staring at you for the past five minutes. 

He places some more eggs on your plate. “ Eat more.” You nodded. “ You have some more too.” You passed him some ham. Both of you chatted with each other and despite him being at least six years older, you were able to enjoy yourself. 

Duke was really good at talking. 

“ Do you want me to give you a tour through the city? We can visit the hospitals too!” Wow he really was nice. You practically grinned, “ I would really like that!” Duke smiled back. 

He was feeling like a big brother right now. A real one. 

He's always wanted a little sibling he could take care of and spend time with. He remembers begging his parents for some. They laughed nervously and told him maybe in the future. 

Then they died and he lost every chance of it. 

When he got adopted by Bruce, he was scared. His new siblings were nice but they all kept their distance. Though with time he'd gotten closer to them all. Even Damien. But his relationship with them all was nothing more than a convenience. To each of them, every single one of them was but a teammate. Just a small part in their great mission. 

Duke had changed in the eight years he was under Bruce's roof. He got more cruel, more efficient and more…emotionless. He had lost any desire for love and care. He couldn't even be brothered anymore. 

Now talking to you, he felt hope brimming. Bruce had already told them all about your family's existence. When he read your file, after it was passed around among his siblings who for some reason just love to mess with each other. He remembers not caring. 

He wants to hit his past self right now. Even if it was him from an hour ago. 

Also

Your picture did not do you justice. 

You look lots more livelier than the picture shows. His eyes have gotten soft in just an hour. That's something none of his siblings would ever believe. Him being kind and smiling with someone? That's practically unheard off! They'll probably try to run some rest on him later. He can already feel a headache coming. 

But he feels they would understand him. They're all the same kind of monsters after all. He can already see you meeting them and them taking a liking to you instantly, just like he has. 

“ Duke, are you listening?” 

He turns his attention back to you. Your bright eyes stare at him with full attention and kindness. He smiles. 

“ I am..” you go right back in for your live of medicine. 

 This is perhaps his first time talking to someone normal. Someone who isn't a vigilante, someone who isn't traumatized. 

Just a normal, bright kid. 

His ears sharpen in edge and his eyes slightly flicker when he hears the footsteps. Bruce is doing it on purpose to not freak you out. He sees Bruce make way to the living room, where you both have taken a seat and are talking. You of course see him and greet him with a smile. 

“ Good morning, Uncle Bruce.”

Bruce pauses before smiling. “ Good morning Julia.” He takes a seat next to you. “ You're quite an early riser. I've never seen any of my children ever wake so early.” He sighs under a smile. 

“ Really?”

“ Yes. They all love to sleep late, when they are home that is.” You wouldn't know but his last bit is meant for someone else.Duke inwardly scoffs. “ They must be home often then.” Bruce freezes and you feel his smile falter before returning to his face. “ They come when they wish.”

You nod. 

Duke already wants to leave. Despite all that Bruce has done for him, he can't make himself stay in his presence for long. Especially if it's not related to vigilante work. He gets up and your attention turns to him. “ Duke?” You ask. 

He smiles and pinches your cheeks. “ I've got some work to do. Let's hang out later, ‘kay?” You nod. Duke shoots Bruce a stare before leaving. You don't notice since it's very quick and subtle

Once Duke disappears, Bruce turns your attention back to him. 

“ It's nice to see you get along with him.”

“ Duke's nice so I wouldn't take the credit.” You reply. You have no idea how cruel and emotionless he is. Bruce would say he was surprised when he saw you both chatting and smiling earlier. Duke has never been this open in front of anyone. Not even his siblings. 

“ I wouldn't put myself down there. You're good at socializing.” you blush. “ Thanks…” 

He smiles. “ So I heard you love medicine. Are you planning on pursuing it?” 

“ I am. It's been a dream for me forever!”

“ That's nice.” He doesn't realise when his hand moves closer and ruffles your hair. He starts and pulls back quickly. “ Sorry.. I didn't realize-”

“ It's fine uncle. You can do it again.” You allow him to pat your head. He smiles at the warmth you give. 

“ So uncle Bruce, when are the others coming? I would love to meet them!” especially if they are nice like Duke. 

“ Right ! They should arrive right-wing” suddenly there is a loud bang and the ground shakes. You about to fall is steadied by Bruce and he helps you get stable. “ You alright?” Bruce asks seriously. “ I'm… fine.”

“ What was that!” Bruce says nothing, just points at the direction of the sound.

“ Master Damien and Master Jason. What are you both doing?” You hear Alfred's voice. He's scolding someone. Bruce and you walk out and you see two men getting scolded by Alfred. 

“ It was Todd's fault, Pennyworth. I have done nothing wrong. “ You see the shorter one trying to defend himself. His face has a big blue spot forming. Probably due to a punch. 

“ Don't put the blame on me Demon brat! Alfie I'm telling you! It was all him. “ The taller one argues back. You see blood falling down his arms. 

Your glance at Alfred who looks like a tired dad ready to bamg his head on the wall. Bruce takes his place next to you and pats your head again. 

“ Here they are.” You hear Bruce sigh holding his nose bridge like a tired parent. “ Welcome to our Mansion Julia.” 

Damn-

TBC…

Coming chapters will be uploaded slowly, also if anyone wants to be added to the tag list, kindly message or comment.

All our batfam has a dark and cute side. So look forward to it ^⁠_⁠^ Also to everyone wondering why I gave reader the name Julia. It's a Nickname I thought would be cute. ( I don't know what it means but it kind of rhyme with jewel. So I wrote it in that context, since she's going to be like a jewel to them.)

Still if everyone wants I'll use y/n or name ( tell me what u all prefer) in the coming chapters ≧﹏≦

Thanks for reading 🩷

FAMILY, FAMILY DEAR BATS 🦇

synopsis : What happens when a normal reader enters Batfamily. Not by getting orphaned or saved but rather just visiting her uncle for the first time ( it's Bruce ). Now somehow she's become the unofficial therapist of this family and for unknown reasons the only one with enough common sense.Also why is everyone so Overprotective?

Or

Normal reader X Platonic yandere Batfamily

Chapter 2 :-

Your eyes twinkled open all while you took your surroundings into view. This most definitely wasn't your room. It was too large yet had a tiny elegance to it. Your mind raked where you were -- seconds passed before you realised you were indeed at your uncle's place. 

Getting off the bed, you made your way to the bathroom and freshened yourself up. Your eyes which were in a daze snap open sharply. You smile at your reflection before coming out. 

Walking out you passed through the large and bright hallways and made your way to the kitchen. Mr. Alfred, you remember, was busy making breakfast. " Good morning, Mr Alfred." He greeted you with a smile. The man had a stern yet soft look in his eyes when he glanced in your direction. 

Passing you an eloquent smile he pushed the seat back for you. " Good morning, Miss Julia. You've woken quite early. " You nodded, " I'm an early wake. Also-" You said turning your head left and right. " Where are my parents?"

" They informed me they had to leave early due to an emergency at work. I was told to inform you when you woke.. " 

Wow, your parents really just left you. What happened to spending a few days there? Really- still you couldn't blame them, they always made time for you but sometimes the work got too heavy or an emergency arrived. " Seems like them. " You sighed while taking a seat. 

Mr. Alfred placed breakfast in front of you. You gasped at the amount, it looked like it could feed ten people. Looking back and forth you asked, " Will my cousins or someone else be joining us? "

Mr. Alfred blinked before a smile found its way on his lips. " Master Duke will be joining us." You had a hard time believing he could eat this much. But hey! It's not like you were familiar with how much a young adult ate. 

As if on que you heard a voice from behind, failing to prevent himself from yawning. " Good morning Alfred. What's for breakfast?” Alfred motioned him to look at the table. You heard a gasp, “ Wow, you really prepared a lot! Is everyone coming back already?”

“ They should arrive by evening. Also-” Alfred coughed, his eyes pointing to you. “ You ought to greet our guest.” The boy's eyes finally scan and spot you. 

You slightly turned your head and looked at him. He was really handsome you thought. His skin was practically glowing but the dark circle near his eyes told you he barely slept. 

He came closer and took a seat next to you. Extending his hand and a smile bright on his lips, he greeted you. “ Sorry about that. I was kind of sleepy. Nice to meet you uhh-.” You shake his hand and smile right back. “ Julia..” You reply, “ A pleasure to meet you too.”

“ Duke.” He says and takes a seat. You don't notice him examining you while you eat. He follows your movements and begins to eat. 

So this is Y/n Julia. 

You look so ordinary, practically so small. He scans you with his eyes and powers and finds you to not be a threat. You turn to him confused as to why he's been staring at you for the past five minutes. 

He places some more eggs on your plate. “ Eat more.” You nodded. “ You have some more too.” You passed him some ham. Both of you chatted with each other and despite him being at least six years older, you were able to enjoy yourself. 

Duke was really good at talking. 

“ Do you want me to give you a tour through the city? We can visit the hospitals too!” Wow he really was nice. You practically grinned, “ I would really like that!” Duke smiled back. 

He was feeling like a big brother right now. A real one. 

He's always wanted a little sibling he could take care of and spend time with. He remembers begging his parents for some. They laughed nervously and told him maybe in the future. 

Then they died and he lost every chance of it. 

When he got adopted by Bruce, he was scared. His new siblings were nice but they all kept their distance. Though with time he'd gotten closer to them all. Even Damien. But his relationship with them all was nothing more than a convenience. To each of them, every single one of them was but a teammate. Just a small part in their great mission. 

Duke had changed in the eight years he was under Bruce's roof. He got more cruel, more efficient and more…emotionless. He had lost any desire for love and care. He couldn't even be brothered anymore. 

Now talking to you, he felt hope brimming. Bruce had already told them all about your family's existence. When he read your file, after it was passed around among his siblings who for some reason just love to mess with each other. He remembers not caring. 

He wants to hit his past self right now. Even if it was him from an hour ago. 

Also

Your picture did not do you justice. 

You look lots more livelier than the picture shows. His eyes have gotten soft in just an hour. That's something none of his siblings would ever believe. Him being kind and smiling with someone? That's practically unheard off! They'll probably try to run some rest on him later. He can already feel a headache coming. 

But he feels they would understand him. They're all the same kind of monsters after all. He can already see you meeting them and them taking a liking to you instantly, just like he has. 

“ Duke, are you listening?” 

He turns his attention back to you. Your bright eyes stare at him with full attention and kindness. He smiles. 

“ I am..” you go right back in for your live of medicine. 

 This is perhaps his first time talking to someone normal. Someone who isn't a vigilante, someone who isn't traumatized. 

Just a normal, bright kid. 

His ears sharpen in edge and his eyes slightly flicker when he hears the footsteps. Bruce is doing it on purpose to not freak you out. He sees Bruce make way to the living room, where you both have taken a seat and are talking. You of course see him and greet him with a smile. 

“ Good morning, Uncle Bruce.”

Bruce pauses before smiling. “ Good morning Julia.” He takes a seat next to you. “ You're quite an early riser. I've never seen any of my children ever wake so early.” He sighs under a smile. 

“ Really?”

“ Yes. They all love to sleep late, when they are home that is.” You wouldn't know but his last bit is meant for someone else.Duke inwardly scoffs. “ They must be home often then.” Bruce freezes and you feel his smile falter before returning to his face. “ They come when they wish.”

You nod. 

Duke already wants to leave. Despite all that Bruce has done for him, he can't make himself stay in his presence for long. Especially if it's not related to vigilante work. He gets up and your attention turns to him. “ Duke?” You ask. 

He smiles and pinches your cheeks. “ I've got some work to do. Let's hang out later, ‘kay?” You nod. Duke shoots Bruce a stare before leaving. You don't notice since it's very quick and subtle

Once Duke disappears, Bruce turns your attention back to him. 

“ It's nice to see you get along with him.”

“ Duke's nice so I wouldn't take the credit.” You reply. You have no idea how cruel and emotionless he is. Bruce would say he was surprised when he saw you both chatting and smiling earlier. Duke has never been this open in front of anyone. Not even his siblings. 

“ I wouldn't put myself down there. You're good at socializing.” you blush. “ Thanks…” 

He smiles. “ So I heard you love medicine. Are you planning on pursuing it?” 

“ I am. It's been a dream for me forever!”

“ That's nice.” He doesn't realise when his hand moves closer and ruffles your hair. He starts and pulls back quickly. “ Sorry.. I didn't realize-”

“ It's fine uncle. You can do it again.” You allow him to pat your head. He smiles at the warmth you give. 

“ So uncle Bruce, when are the others coming? I would love to meet them!” especially if they are nice like Duke. 

“ Right ! They should arrive right-wing” suddenly there is a loud bang and the ground shakes. You about to fall is steadied by Bruce and he helps you get stable. “ You alright?” Bruce asks seriously. “ I'm… fine.”

“ What was that!” Bruce says nothing, just points at the direction of the sound.

“ Master Damien and Master Jason. What are you both doing?” You hear Alfred's voice. He's scolding someone. Bruce and you walk out and you see two men getting scolded by Alfred. 

“ It was Todd's fault, Pennyworth. I have done nothing wrong. “ You see the shorter one trying to defend himself. His face has a big blue spot forming. Probably due to a punch. 

“ Don't put the blame on me Demon brat! Alfie I'm telling you! It was all him. “ The taller one argues back. You see blood falling down his arms. 

Your glance at Alfred who looks like a tired dad ready to bamg his head on the wall. Bruce takes his place next to you and pats your head again. 

“ Here they are.” You hear Bruce sigh holding his nose bridge like a tired parent. “ Welcome to our Mansion Julia.” 

Damn-

TBC…

Coming chapters will be uploaded slowly, also if anyone wants to be added to the tag list, kindly message or comment.

All our batfam has a dark and cute side. So look forward to it ^⁠_⁠^ Also to everyone wondering why I gave reader the name Julia. It's a Nickname I thought would be cute. ( I don't know what it means but it kind of rhyme with jewel. So I wrote it in that context, since she's going to be like a jewel to them.)

Still if everyone wants I'll use y/n or name ( tell me what u all prefer) in the coming chapters ≧﹏≦

Thanks for reading 🩷

FAMILY, FAMILY DEAR BATS! 🦇

Synopsis : What happens when a normal reader enters Batfamily. Not by getting orphaned or saved but rather just visiting her uncle for the first time ( it's Bruce ). Now somehow she's become the unofficial therapist of this family and for unknown reasons the only one with enough common sense.Also why is everyone so Overprotective?

Or

Normal reader X Platonic Batfamily

Chapter 1 :-

Your life was pretty uneventful and even, except for a few ups and downs here and there. But still it was as ordinary as it could get, living with a mother that had nursing as a profession and your father being an office worker made it normal but nice.

That was until one day when your mother told you about your uncle’s existence. Her cousin to be exact.Well excuse you for being surprised- YOU didn't even know you had another living relative ??? And they just dropped the bomb so casually – that too at dinner time !!

“ I haven't actually met him yet but the media has framed him to be… quite unique.” Your mother quotes. “ I talked to him, he's a kind man and I think meeting him would do us some good.” Your father sees the way your one way from questioning reality so he gently pats your back and smiles.

“ Don't worry little star, if it makes you feel better she told me two days ago.” He says as your mother lightly giggles and the two make a couple of jokes here and there. “ You two…really..” you groan.

 As the dinner slowly comes to an end and your father and mother pick up the dishes and drop them at the sink, your mother glances at your father telling him to speak. “ Ahem-” he fake coughs to get your attention, “ This summer we're planning to send you to live with him.” 

You look at him , your eyes wide. “ I beg your finest pardon-WHaT!?” they both nod and you violently shake your head. “ What happened to you two going with me ?”

They share a glance , “ We'll be going together but you'll stay a bit longer and get to know him better. He's family after all."

“ Mom, dad ! You've got to be kidding me.” You try to reason, “ I don't even know him, Heck I didn't even know he existed until a few moments ago and you're telling me to just go and live with him out of nowhere !!”

Your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and you just know you're going to lose. “ Sweetie, my cousin isn't a bad man. Just think of it as meeting a new friend and also I heard Gotham has one of the best medical units in the world~"

You think for a moment before a sigh escapes your lips. You can't defeat them anyway, might as well try. ( Which is totally not because you're excited about checking out the hospitals in Gotham and their advancement. Nope sir, No way)

“ Fine, I'll go. When are we leaving ?” You ask to get up from the table. “ Tomorrow.” 

“ WhAt-”

…

Moving forward you are currently standing in front of the totally not terrifying and scary Mansion inside the most amazing and sunny Gotham. Get the sarcasm here ? Yeah, me too.

Your mother dials the number and the bell rings and runs until it's finally picked up. “ Bruce Wanye here.” his voice sounds horse, he was probably asleep you think. It's only 11am right now. You've slept far later.

“ Hello…yeah…it's me...” 

The Giant Gate automatically opens and the three of us enter. You take in the scenery and like you thought this place is really nice. It's a billionaire’s garden afterall. Just then a voice comes from inside the Mansion and a butler comes out.

He’s an old British looking man, the way he moves is elegant like those movies you've seen and the way he greets your parents and you is so nerve cracking. “ A pleasure to meet you Miss Rachel and Sir Lucas.” He greets them and then his eyes turn to you.

“ And this is?”

“ Y/n but please..call me Julia.” You reply.

“ Miss Julia then.” He states , “ please come in. Master Bruce has been waiting for your arrival.” He brings you all to the meeting area. As you all take a seat the butler bows yet again and walks away.

“ I'll get Mister Bruce here.” He says walking away.

Your gaze that was previously fidgeting back and forth now has time to look around. This house was so splendid and beautiful and everything was exceptional and well cared for.

Few minutes pass before the door chimes open and walks in on the Man you searched about last night. His posture is elegant like a noble, similar to the butler, yet his eyes are filled with dark circles.Youve got a very good feeling he hardly sleeps.

“ A pleasure to meet you.” He says while shaking hands with your parents and then taking a seat. “ I'm sorry it took me a while. I was busy and hardly had time to rest due to the WE business and projects coming up.” 

Your mother nodes. “ It's understandable Bruce. You've got a great burden on you and it can get hard.” You sit next to your father and mother, right in the middle of the giant sofa as they chat.

Bruce while talking turns his attention to you and you see how his eyes briefly soften and there's some sadness in them. But it vanished too quickly for you to think it was there.

“ This is your daughter ?” He asks.

“ Told you long enough to notice.” Your mother dabs a small sarcastic smile. She loves chaos far too much. “ I apologize-”

“ I'm kidding Bruce !” Your mother retorts back. “ This is my little baby girl , Julia Y/n.”

You smile at him awkwardly and he returns the gesture. “ How old are you, Julia ?”

“ I'm sixteen, Mr Wanye.”

“ Oh, you're close to Damien's age-” he remarks , “Please call me Bruce. I'm your uncle, Julia.” He smiles. 

“ Alright, uncle Bruce... and uh, who's Damien ?” you ask curious. Your parents definitely haven't mentioned a Damien.

" He's my son. So he'd be your cousin, Julia."

" Oh !" You glare at your parents for not telling you this and they just nervously turn away. They live messing with you far too much. Sigh

" How old is he, uncle Bruce ?"

" He's eighteen." Noticing your curiosity he deemed to telling you more.

" He's currently on a little trip to his elder brother's place. They'll be coming here by tomorrow" he smiled.

Okay that's it. How many cousins did you have ? You were told about one uncle and that's it.

" I see."

And you parents and uncle get back to their conversation. Soon enough the butler returns with some refreshments and introduces himself as Alfred Pennyworth.

Once you've eaten, you excuse yourself to look around the place and the butler whom you now know as Alfred guides you.

The Mansion is bigger than you initially thought and Mr. Alfred is a nice companion to talk to. He tells you about your cousins (surprise suprise, THERE'S MORE THAN SIX) and about how most of them are adopted except Damien who used to call himself the “ blood son” and all their shenanigans.

It's fun to learn about your soon-to-be-new family. All of them seem to sound like interesting individuals and you could use some cousins to play with. Alfred even mentions their hobbies and how they like to prank each other.

Also did you mention how the way to Gotham was the most nerve cracking thing ever. Like this is the city that batman-THE BATMAN couldn't cleanse after almost two and half decades of work. So it's an amazing day nevertheless.

While exploring the Mansion with Alfred your steps stop when a specific picture catches your eyes. You stop and observe it.

Two adults stood along with a small kid that you deemed to be eight to ten years old. The picture drew you in like nothing ever did. It had this air around it that just couldn't explain.

“ Lovely picture, No ?” Alfred’s voice broke your concentration. Your eyes slid to his and you smiled slightly. “ It is. Who are they ? The woman seems to resemble my mom.”

“ That's Miss Martha and Mr Thomas along with young master Bruce. It's a family photo before their death.” Alfred reminisced. “ It's been a tradition for generations and master Bruce has continued it.” He guided you to the latest picture of the family.

It felt forced.

They all felt too far away in this ( like they didn't want to be there ). Even Bruce felt off. Different from the smiling man you had just met. He seemed tired and sad.

“ Those are my cousins ?” You asked, hoping Alfred didn't see the look in your eyes

“ Yes miss Julia.” He told you which was who by pointing and explaining their descriptions. Being a sixteen year old girl with an intense love for history and lore and yaoi, you tried your best to listen.

…

“ It was really nice to meet family. Thanks for having us Bruce.” Your mother hugged Bruce which he returned and then he shaked hands with your father. “ No thank you for coming. I'm kind of ashamed to admit, it gets lonely without my children here..” He chuckled.

" Well you won't get lonely not with our dear Julia here ! She had a tendency to make people break their shell and fit in." You father added.

" She sounds like a lovely child. Does she perhaps have an interest in medicine ? She kept asking about it during our conversations." 

Your father and mother shared a small grin. " She does. It's all she can ever dream about."

" That's...good." his eyes flickered to you.

You had fallen asleep an hour ago during dinner and was currently laying on the sofa. Your snores echoed throughout the Mansion. Your parents chuckled and Bruce couldn't help but think it was a pleasant change.

A child that didn't have to fight crime.

One that didn't have to take the burden of the world.

He had already investigated your and your parents backgrounds and confirmed that your mother was indeed his blood cousin. The blood part was maybe due to Damien kind of rubbing off on him.

It was a shock to find out about her existence. Even more to know his mother had a elder sister that passed away few years back and her only child had disappeared as a toddler. That was your mom.

He would never even know of her existence if not for her searching for her parents and finding him. He almost cried when he saw her picture, she resembled his mother in looks except her hair was black.

But you, your looked like the exact replica of his mother. Like a younger version.

He knew your personality was meek yet it had kindness and a spirit all his children had. It was nice chatting with you during dinner. You expressed your interest so well and he knew that his kids would love you. Maybe even Damien. 

Talking to a kid like this , carefree and smiling reminded him of what he had lost.It almost felt like his children hadn't left.

That part really hurt.

“ Alfred will take you to the rooms. You can have any you like. Have a pleasant sleep, I'll see you all in the morning.” He said leaving you and your parents in Alfred's care (not before glancing at you one final time.)

Time for his duty.

TBC…

Pairings. M.D.Luffy- R.Zoro- V.Sanji - shanks - T.Law - P.D.Ace - E.Kid

summary. Fav part on your body

— (a/n): DARLING!, every inch of you is perfect. Plus request are open (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Monkey D. Luffy – Your Hands

Luffy is fascinated by your hands. Whether they’re soft, calloused, or adorned with tattoos, he loves them because they’re yours. He’s constantly grabbing them, playing with your fingers absentmindedly, or holding them against his cheek. He especially adores when you feed him—his eyes light up every time you bring food to his lips, and he sometimes playfully nibbles on your fingers just to make you laugh. And when you ruffle his hair with those same hands? He melts.

But Luffy’s obsession goes beyond just holding them—he finds comfort in them. If he’s sleepy, he’ll take your hand and press it against his cheek, his lashes fluttering as he hums in contentment. If he’s excited, he’ll grab both of your hands and swing them around, his laughter ringing through the air. And if he’s feeling extra affectionate? He’ll kiss your palms, grinning up at you before pressing them against his face dramatically. And when you cup his face in your hands, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb, his usual playful energy softens. His lips part slightly, his expression suddenly unreadable. He stares at you—wide-eyed, almost mesmerized—before he suddenly grins, rubbing his face even further into your touch like an overgrown puppy. “Heh, your hands feel nice,” he mumbles, before promptly biting your finger again, his laughter echoing through the air as you scold him.

Roronoa Zoro – Your Back

Zoro has a thing for your back—he won’t outright say it, but his actions make it obvious. Whenever you wear something that exposes even a hint of skin, his eyes linger. He finds something undeniably strong yet elegant about the way your back curves when you move. If you have scars, he respects them deeply, running his fingers over them with quiet admiration. If you have tattoos, he studies them in silent appreciation, perhaps even tracing them when you’re resting together. And when you stretch, arms raised above your head, your back arching slightly? He has to physically stop himself from pulling you into his arms.

But if he’s feeling bold—or maybe just a little tipsy—he’ll step up behind you, fingers ghosting over the bare skin of your spine, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “You’re showing off, aren’t you?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s a rough edge to it, like he’s holding himself back. “Knowing you’re what man need”. If you turn to face him, expecting him to retreat, he doesn’t—he just smirks, eyes locked onto yours, before running a calloused hand down your back with slow, deliberate intent.

Sanji – Your Neck

Sanji worships your neck. It’s his personal sanctuary, a place where his lips constantly find their way. He loves to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as his hands settle on your waist. His kisses are slow and lingering, sometimes teasing, sometimes desperate. He whispers sweet nothings against your skin, praising you like you’re the most divine being in existence. If you wear something that exposes your neck—off-the-shoulder tops, delicate necklaces—he’s doomed. He’ll place kisses there absentmindedly, even in public, murmuring, “Mon amour, you’re making it very hard to behave.”

If you wear something that leaves your neck exposed—whether it’s an elegant dress or just a loose button-down—Sanji is done for. He’ll run his fingers over the delicate skin absentmindedly, his touch featherlight, his breath hitching slightly. And if you so much as tilt your head, offering him more space? He’s pressing his lips against you instantly, But his favorite? When you’re cooking together and he sneaks up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist. His lips graze your neck as he murmurs something about how beautiful you look, and before you can even react, he’s already pressing a lingering kiss to your pulse. He lives for the way you shiver under his touch, and you can feel the satisfied smirk against your skin.

Shanks – Your Breasts

Shanks is shameless. He doesn’t try to hide his admiration—he fully embraces it. He loves resting his head against your chest after a long day, sighing contentedly as you run your fingers through his hair. He’s the type to slip his hand under your shirt absentmindedly, not necessarily with ulterior motives, but just to feel your warmth. If you wear something that accentuates your figure, expect him to tease you endlessly. He’s the kind of man who smirks, takes a sip of his drink, and drawls, “how god create something perfect like you” before pulling you into his lap.

He’s convinced that anything can make your breasts look even sexier, and once the idea enters his head, it stays there. One day, in that deep, playful voice of his, he casually suggests, “You know, a piercing right here—” his finger traces between your breasts, his touch featherlight yet purposeful, ”—would look absolutely stunning on you.” If you decide to tease him back, tilting your head with a smirk and saying, “How about nipple piercings instead?”—his reaction is immediate. His grip on your waist tightens, his pupils darken, and he exhales sharply through his nose, as if he’s just been hit with a vision too tempting to handle. He leans in, voice rough with amusement and something deeper, “get ‘em, I’d love to feel them on my tongue.”

Trafalgar Law – Your Collarbone & Shoulders

Law is a man of precision, and there’s something about your collarbones and shoulders that drives him crazy. Maybe it’s the sharp elegance of them, the way they peek through when you wear certain outfits, or the way his fingers trace over them absentmindedly when you’re lying together. He appreciates the way they flex subtly when you move, the strength hidden beneath softness. If you have tattoos here, he’s even more obsessed—he studies them with sharp, quiet interest, his fingers brushing over the ink as he asks about their meaning. And when he’s feeling particularly possessive? He marks you with slow, deliberate kisses, leaving faint traces of his touch behind.

When he’s feeling possessive, he won’t just admire—he’ll mark. His lips will graze over your collarbone, pressing slow, deliberate kisses, his grip tightening on your waist. He’s not one for open displays of affection, but the moment you’re alone? His hands are on your shoulders, his mouth tracing along your collarbone.

Portgas D. Ace – Your Hips

Ace has a love for your hips, and he’s not shy about it. His hands naturally settle there, whether he’s pulling you closer, steadying you after a stumble, or just holding you while talking. He likes the way they move when you walk—so much so that he often ends up staring without realizing it. He’s the type to hook a finger into the waistband of your pants or skirt, tugging playfully just to see your reaction. If you have dimples on your lower back, he’s obsessed, pressing kisses there whenever he gets the chance. And when you straddle his lap, resting your hands on his shoulders? He swears you’re going to be the death of him.

He loves how easy it is to tease you when he has his hands on your hips. He’ll grip them suddenly, just to see you react, and his grin only widens when you give him a playful shove. And if you’re straddling him, hands braced against his chest? He’s gone. His fingers tighten instinctively, his voice rough as he chuckles, “you make me feel like a dream”

But the real kicker? If you jokingly sway your hips while walking away, knowing he’s watching. He’ll groan dramatically, running a hand down his face, before catching up with you, tossing an arm around your waist. “You can’t just do that and expect me to hold on,” he huffs, but the way his fingers flex against your hip tells you he’s not complaining.

Eustass Kid – Your Thighs

Kid is obsessed with your thighs. He loves the way they feel under his hands, whether they’re soft or toned, and he often absentmindedly grips them when you sit close to him. He’s the type to pull you onto his lap with zero hesitation, his metal hand resting heavily on your thigh like a silent claim. If you wear something that shows them off—shorts, skirts, anything that accentuates their shape—he’s staring. And if you dare to tease him, pressing your legs together in a way that draws his attention? He’ll lean in, voice low and full of challenge, “you wanna play bad bitch role ~ hmm?”

If you wear something that shows them off—shorts, skirts, anything that accentuates their shape—he’s staring. He won’t even try to hide it, his red eyes dark with something dangerous. And if you catch him looking, raising an eyebrow at him in amusement? He just smirks and shrugs, completely unashamed. “Not my fault you look this divine.” But his absolute favorite? When you’re sitting with your legs draped over his lap, and he gets to absentmindedly trace patterns along your skin. His touch is rough yet oddly tender, and if you tease him about it, he just grunts, “Shut the fuck up,” but doesn’t stop. And if you so much as playfully squeeze his waist with your thighs? He growls, his grip tightening as he leans in, voice low and taunting, “they will look perfect spread, don’t you think?”

period madness

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader

summary - it's that time of the month and they have...interesting...ways of dealing with it

warnings - none

a/n - I've done this with the live action Straw Hats so i wanted to do this with their anime versions too, plus the ones who aren't in the LA yet

ZORO

Zoro jerked awake to the sound of pots crashing and clanging in the kitchen. He was unaccustomed to that, because Sanji never let anyone in the kitchen but himself. That and the aggressive sounds were usually only caused by him and then cook during their arguments. So when he got up to investigate, he was not prepared for the sight before him.

You were throwing pots and pans at the cook, who was barely able to dodge your pinpoint accuracy. He was holding his hands up and shaking them, saying, "No, no, no darling!" or slipping into panicked French.

The swordsman found it difficult to hold back his laughter and ended up chortling, catching yours and the cook's attention.

"What are YOU laughing at?" You glared daggers at him, chucking one of the pots at him. It hit him smack in the head, and he glared at you before seeing the look on your face.

He had never been more terrified.

"You're both idiots," you grumbled, rubbing your uterus before storming out of the kitchen. Sanji sighed in relief, before you called out behind you, "I want another one!" He jumped and ran around the kitchen, desperately making something - whatever you'd asked for.

"What's wrong with her?" Zoro gruffly asked the cook.

"She's on her period," Nami walked past, beaming and looking unusually happy.

Zoro vaguely knew what a period was. He didn't quite know how it worked, but he knew that women became oddly aggressive and emotional during their week. He didn't know about the blood, though, until he walked into your room after you and saw red staining your clothes.

"What happened?!"

You jumped and turned around, "Zoro! Don't do that!" Then you groaned, doubling over in pain.

Over the next couple of days, the swordsman learned just what a period entailed. Very drastic, rapid mood changes, intense cravings and debilitating pain. He once claimed you were being dramatic, but that was the last time. He shivered at the memory.

He became more helpful once he fully understood what was going on with you. Threatening Sanji to make whatever you were craving for, bringing it to you, rubbing your uterus. That he could handle. Your mood swings, alas, were his undoing.

"I'm tired. Can I nap now?"

"No one asked you to do my chores," you grumbled.

He glared at you, "A thank you would be nice."

"Mhm."

He grumbled and crossed his arms, muttering something about your attitude.

"What?" Your nostrils flared.

That dangerous look on your face came again, and Zoro froze up.

"Nothing."

"Better be. Remember what happened yesterday?"

He flinched. The swordsman flinched. He didn't want to be reminded of your wrath, much less experience it again. It had been traumatic enough the first time.

Thankfully, you were much more docile when he was cuddling you after you had changed and gotten comfortable.

ACE

You weren't at breakfast one morning. Which was odd, because you were usually always there before him, saving him a spot because he was the one sleeping in.

"Where's (Name)?" He asked the other crewmembers, all of them shrugging because no one actually knew.

This was his sign to check your room. If you hadn't come to greet him and he hadn't seen you all morning, you were most likely still sleeping. Which almost never happened, since you liked to get up early and get a jumpstart on your chores around the ship.

He carefully pushed open the door to your room, and there you were. Curled up in your bed, whimpering and moaning in what sounded like pain. Immediately he grew worried, and rushed over to you.

"What's wrong??" He crouched beside the bed, trying to get you to look at him.

"Cramps," was all that you could say before another bout of pain hit you and had you changing positions. Nothing was comfortable, and you'd tried everything. "Hurts."

He frowned, but knew exactly what to do. Sure, maybe he'd forgotten that you started your period today, but he'd had enough experience with it to know what to do. He climbed onto the bed nd laid behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you. Heating his body just enough to soothe you, his hand settled over your uterus and started rubbing in comforting, slow circles. When he felt your body slowly relax, he knew it was working.

"Mhm," you hummed, sighing in relief, "Much better. Thanks, Ace."

"Anything for you," he grinned, burying his face in your neck. He continued rubbing slowly and soothingly, also enioying the closeness and intimacy that this brought. "I'll get you some chocolate later, okay?"

You managed a small laugh, "You know Thatch is not going to let you into the kitchen. You're practically banned."

"I stole ONE cake, one!" He protested. "And it wasn't even a big one!"

You laughed again, shaking your head in amused dismay, "You know you stole more than that. He knows you sneak in almost every night."

"Is that why the fridge is now locked?"

"Mhmmm," you turned your head slightly, "But it's a sweet offer."

"No, I will get you that chocolate," he insisted, making you laugh. "I will fight Thatch if I have to."

"Or," you started to suggest, "We could stop at the island that's coming up and buy our own?"

"Nah, too late," he nuzzled his face against your neck, "I went to get it for you now."

"You're too sweet to me," you sighed contently, your entire body melting under his touch, the pain dulling to a bearable ache. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"You love me," he murmured into your neck. "That's enough."

When you were sleeping, the second division commander gently disentangled himself from you and snuck off to get your chocolate. The next day, you woke up to the sweet treat on your bedside table, and a note saying that both Thatch and Ace were in the infirmary. Sighing, you got up to go see your idiot boyfriend, but a smile on your face told you that you weren't mad at him.

You could never be. He handled your mood swings like a pro, never once losing his temper. He got you whatever you craved, no complaints. And when you were in pain, he was more than happy to become your personal heater.

Every single period, he treated you with the utmost gentleness, and a patience that no one knew he had.

SANJI

Your cravings are almost impossible to deal with. If he wasn't such a great cook, Sanji might have cracked under the pressure. Every hour was something new, something strange. But whatever you want, you get.

You stumbled into the kitchen a few hours later, wondering where your food was. Only to see your boyfriend trying to fend off your captain who was trying to steal it.

"Give it to him," you grumbled, "I'll just make it myself."

Sanji's eyes widened in panic as he watched you move around the kitchen, starting to prepare the dish. He finally kicked Luffy away and rushed towards.you, dropping onto his knees before you and holding up the dish.

"No, no, no, my love! Here you go!"

You crossed your arms, "Do you think I am incapable of making my own meal?"

"No, not at all!" He shook his head frantically, his panic rising. "I just don't want you to do any unnecessary work while.you're in so much, when I am here to do it for you!"

On any other day, you might have melted and kissed him on the cheek. Today, however, that comment just pissed you off.

"So you think I'm too weak to handle a bit of pain?"

The cook was going to pass out at this rate, "No, no, no! I just don't want-"

"Because I'm a woman, is that it?"

His face kept getting paler and paler, "My love-"

"No, forget it," your mood flipped, tears brimming in your eyes. "I'm not hungry anymore." You turned on your heel and left the kitchen, and Sanji's heart sunk.

If he hated anything more than you crying, it was you crying because of him.

He got to work preparing several of your favourite dishes, mentally cursing the captain for this whole debacle. It didn't take him long, because he was also desperate and panicky, his urge to comfort you growing stronger by the second. The minute he was done he was walking to your room with all the dishes in a tray, and knocking on your door.

"Go away."

"But darling, I have your food-"

The door swung open, and once again your mood had switched and you were smiling at him like nothing had happened. You let him in, peppering his face with kisses as you immediately started to eat, leaving him with hearts in his eyes.

But also a little terrified.

After you had finished eating, he cuddled you and let you fall asleep on him. He was afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing again so he just held you, letting you guide his hand to rub your uterus soothingly.

He was a little panicky, but he always took care of you during this frustrating week.

LUFFY

He's practically immune to your emotional outbursts. He does get them from everyone on the crew almost everyday, after all. So the mood swings he can handle, he just laughs it off and hugs you or cuddles you or offers to give you extra kisses.

It's the cravings part that he has an issue with.

Luffy and food go hand-in-hand, everyone knows this. If he even so much as spots something to eat, he will gobble it down within seconds. That's why Sanji has a lock on the fridge and chains on all the cabinets, because your boyfriend cannot stop himself from eating the ship's entire food supply.

And more often than not, he will end up fighting with you about it whenever you're on your period, because he thinks it's unfair that you get more food.

"Luffy, stop bothering (Name)!" Sanji smacked his hand away from your food.

The captain pouted, "Why does she get more food?"

You glared at your clueless boyfriend, the temptation to smack him growing stronger by the second, "Luffy, you try ble-" The rest of your explanation was muffled by Nami's hand.

Luffy pouted even more as he watched you eat, confused about why you were looking at him like you wanted to eat him.

When you were done, you got up and walked away without even asking him to come with you. This was even more weird for him, and so he followed you on his own.

"(Name), what's wrong?"

"Nothing, just tired," you replied, but he knew you so well that he could tell you were lying as you sat down on your bed.

"Did I do something?" He came to sit down beside you.

You sighed, "Yes and no. Do I look fat to you?"

His eyes widened, "No, why would you say that? Who called you fat?"

"Me."

He frowned at your words, "Why would you call yourself fat?"

"Because you're always complaining about me eating more on my period and it makes me feel like I am!" You snapped, teetering on the edge of a breakdown.

"I'm sorry," he apologised quietly, sincerely. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that."

"I know, but Luffy..." You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, "You have to understand. Women go through a lot on their period, okay? We eat more, we cry more, we snap more, everything we do is increased. So is our pain. It's just something that happens every month."

"You're in pain?" He asked worriedly, "Why didn't you tell me?"

I've told you many, many times, you refrained from saying, instead sighing, "Just...please be a bit more mindful, okay?"

He nodded, wrapping his arms around you, "I promise."

He really did try. The next day he even sat you on his lap just to hold you while you ate, and even though it looked like it was difficult for him, he stopped himself from commenting. He even started bringing you food, doing anything he could to be better and actually help you through your torturous week.

KAKU

He's not stupid. He's been around you and Khalifa long enough to know what to do and what not to and what to say and what not to say during your period.

Though he sometimes has his moments, where he forgets that you're in pain because you're so good at hiding it due to the nature of your job.

You were a day or two into your period so your cramps were really bad. But Spandam was annoying you about an assignment so you ended up snapping at him and accidentally broke his nose. Now you were suspended until further notice - although no one reprimanded you for punching him.

That's how Kaku found you, seething as you stormed through the hallways of the headquarters. He himself got a little nervous when he saw your furious look. Trained assassin or not, when you looked like that he would never dream of crossing you.

LAW

Of course, he did it unintentionally.

"What happened to you?" He asked, stopping you from storming past him.

"What do you think?" You snapped, your cramps becoming unbearably painful. You needed to get out of this interaction as quickly as possible.

"Hey, easy," he took a cautious step closer, "I'm not trying to fight."

You signed, "I know." Then you started walking away, only for him to follow you. "Kaku, not right now." Your voice came out strained, and this worried him.

"Something is wrong," he insisted.

"Wow, thanks, Captain Obvious," you rolled your eyes.

He sighed, "I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

"That's the problem!" You whirled around, "You never know what's wrong! This happens every month and you always seem to forget!"

You would later regret snapping at him like that, but your uterus was in the process of killing you so you were more than uncomfortable, and more than miserable.

A look of realisation dawned on him, and he lifted you up into his arms to carry you bridal-style to your room. Once he laid you down on the bed, he had water ready for you to drink and he lay beside you, pulling you close and enveloping you in his warmth as he soothingly rubbed where it hurt. Over the course of the last few months, he'd gotten better at helping you through the pain.

"Thanks," you mumbled, curling up against him. "I punched Spandam, by the way. Got suspended."

He laughed, "That must have been amusing."

"Mhm..."

Before you could word a proper reply, you were drifting off. This was comfortable, and his warm hand rubbing your uterus soothingly was lulling you off to sleep. He smiled softly and continued to hold you and attempt to soothe your pain as best he could.

You woke up later to find your favourite food and drink on your bedside table, and a note saying Spandam had given Kaku your assignment, which made you laugh.

Law saw the signs before you even noticed you were exhibiting them. He was a doctor, after all, but he was also your boyfriend and had memorised each symptom that you showed before getting your period. So he knew exactly when you were getting it, but he wasn't exactly the best at helping you through it.

USOPP

Especially with how angry and emotional you got. He struggled to predict your mood, and in this struggle he found that he didn't know how to properly respond to or act around you. Which led to 97% of your arguments during this time. The other 3% was you picking fights.

"(Name)-ya, you're late," he frowned when you walked into his room after breakfast.

You glared at him, "Oh I'm sorry, I was too busy dying in my bed!"

"Don't be dramatic," he sighed. "You weren't dying."

Your nostrils flared, "Excuse me?"

The look in your eyes was downright murderous. For a scary moment even he was a bit intimidated, but hes stubbornly stood his ground.

"Maybe this month the cramps are worse," you shot back, voice raising with each word. "But you wouldn't understand, you never do!" You turned and stormed out.

"You manage every other month."

He sighed, following, "(Name)-ya, wait."

"No Law," you snarled, "I'm not in the mood. Go away."

He grabbed your wrist, though not enough to hurt you, "I'm sorry."

You rolled your eyes, even more irritated by his lackluster apology, "Okay. Now can I go do my chores?"

He let go a bit awkwardly, frowning, "I can have someone do them for you."

"No, I wouldn't want to be lazy or look like I'm getting favours because I'm your girlfriend," you crossed your arms.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated, "You are in pain, no one is going to hold it against you. Can you please just go back to bed?"

"Is that an order?" You glared at him.

He glared back, "Yes."

You finally relented, storming off to your room and making a show of being irritated. Law sighed behind you, following and making sure you did actually get into bed. Then he made sure you got something hot to press against your uterus, as well as plenty of snacks and drinks to keep you satisfied.

He did come at random points during the day to check on you, which you thought was sweet. He would stand by your side awkwardly and fumble his words, but it was the thought that counted.

And over the next few days, he got better at helping you through it. He let you do your tasks but was a lot more lenient, he accepted your affection even in public, and he was a lot softer than he would usually be. Anything you asked for, you got it - eventually. It might not be right away, but he did get it for you and that was what mattered to you.

But oh, the mood swings were going to be the death of him.

Your period week scared Usopp. He made sure he memorised your cycle so that he knew when you would be a bit more...sensitive, to his words and actions. So he knew when the time came, what he shouldn't say or do around you.

The problem was that he tended to avoid you, hoping that would keep him safe from your mood swings and your violent tendencies. After last time, he was traumatised.

"(Name)?" He knocked on your room door, after hearing from Nami that you weren't up yet and it was late morning already.

"Don't come in!" You wailed, sounding miserable.

He poked his head around the door, curious as to why you didn't want him to come inside. You were rushing around the room in your underwear, making his face turn red. He tried to pull his head out, but knocked it on the door and yelped.

You whipped around, "Usopp!"

But to his surprise, you started crying instead of screaming at him. You sunk onto your bed, dropping your sheets miserably. He quickly came inside, closed the door, and sat beside you.

"What's wrong???" He asked, a bit panicky.

"There's blood everywhere!" You sobbed, "My pants got ruined, my sheets.got ruined, everything got ruined!"

"Oh..." He felt a but flustered, unsure of what to do.

"I know!" You cried, "You probably think it's disgusting." The thought had you sobbing harder, and he panicked even more when you reacted this way.

"No, no, no!" He shook his hands frantically, "You're not disgusting! Never!"

Eventually it dawned on him that he should probably get your things cleaned for you, and when he suggested it he saw you visibly relax and knew it was the right choice.

"Are you sure?" You mumbled, bottom lip trembling.

"I'm sure," he nodded, picking up your things. "Just relax, I'll go get you some (favourite food), and be back just now."

He did just that, ensuring you got into comfortable, warm clothes and then bringing you warm food and warm drinks any time you asked him to. You laid on your bed and asked him to tell you stories, which often succeeded in making you laugh.

He was more than happy to oblige.

♡. Mobile post. Hcs & a small scenario for Damian and his "Pastel, yapper gf". Enjoy, anon.

The Ultimate Grumpy/Sunshine Dynamic™ – If anyone ever needed a perfect example of opposites attract, it’s you and Damian. He’s broody, reserved, and always looks mildly irritated, while you’re a walking bundle of pastels, excitement, and nonstop chatter.

He Pretends He Doesn’t Listen, But He Memorizes Everything – You could be talking a mile a minute about something completely random, and Damian will look like he’s ignoring you… but then two weeks later, he’ll casually bring up that one obscure fact you mentioned about some show or hobby you like, just to prove that he was paying attention. (And yes, it makes your heart explode every time.)

Hand-Holding as a Muzzle Tactic – If you’re talking too much in public (and it’s overwhelming him), he will silently grab your hand and squeeze it, his way of telling you: "Enough, beloved. My brain is melting." (It works about 30% of the time.)

Acts Bothered by Your Energy, But Thrives Off It – If you weren’t around, Damian would absolutely go back to brooding in a corner, drowning in his own sharp thoughts. But with you? His world is louder, brighter, and somehow softer all at once. Even if he doesn’t always respond to your rambles, the sound of your voice makes him feel at peace.

Death Glares Anyone Who Tries to Shut You Up – You can talk his ear off all you want, but the second someone else tells you to be quiet? Damian is more than ready to say something. (Only he is allowed to get mildly annoyed by your endless chatter. Everyone else must deal with it. Perks of being in love.)

Calls You “Beloved” Unironically – He says it so effortlessly, so casually, that you almost forget how incredibly romantic and old-fashioned it is. But hearing that deep, serious voice say: "Beloved, focus." or "Calm yourself, beloved." always makes you melt. He'll say it without even realizing.

The “Secretly Soft for You” Phenomenon – Damian isn’t affectionate in public, but when you’re alone? He’s all over you. He’ll have you curled up in his lap, arms wrapped around you like you’re his personal stress relief, all while he pretends you’re the one being clingy (even though he literally hasn’t let go of you in two hours).

Has No Patience for Social Events, But Goes Just to Make You Happy – You drag him to pastel-themed cafés, bookstores, art exhibits, and other bright, aesthetic places. Damian hates being surrounded by crowds and noise, but he’ll suffer through it just to see you happy. (And if anyone so much as brushes against you? He’s throwing a glare so intense it could set them on fire.)

Deadpan Humor That Pairs Too Well With Your Chatter – You: “Dami, what if frogs had tiny little raincoats? Can you imagine—” Damian, completely monotone: “Why must you plague me with these thoughts.” (But later that night, he actually sketches a tiny frog in a raincoat for you.)

Steals Your Pastel Hoodies Because They Smell Like You – He will never admit it, but if you ever leave a soft, oversized hoodie lying around, it somehow ends up on Damian while he reads or works on something. (If you bring it up? He just says, “It was the closest article of clothing.”)

His Love Language is Acts of Service & Physical Touch – Damian isn’t great with words, so his love is shown through actions—making sure you eat, walking on the dangerous side of the road, pulling you onto his lap after a long day without a single word, etc.

He’s the Calm to Your Chaos (And Vice Versa) – If you trip over your own feet because you’re too excited about something, Damian is already catching you effortlessly without even looking up from his book.

You’re the Only Person Who Can Get Him to “Smile” in Public – It’s subtle, just the slightest softening of his normally sharp features, but everyone notices it. (It’s why people are always shocked he actually has a soul.)

“How Did I End Up With You?” Energy – Sometimes, Damian just stares at you when you’re talking (or singing off-key, or dancing around the living room) like he’s genuinely confused about how someone like him got stuck with someone like you. Of course, not "stuck" in a bad manner.

Knows Exactly When to Let You Talk and When to Pull You Into Silence – He’s never rude about it, but when your energy turns from excited rambling to nervous over-explaining, Damian will cut you off mid-sentence by gently cupping your face and saying: “Enough. You are alright.” (And just like that, the world feels a little less overwhelming.)

You Make Him Soft & He Has No Idea How to Deal With It – Sometimes, when you’re asleep, Damian just traces his fingers over your cheek, like he’s trying to figure out how he let himself fall this hard.

Refuses to Call You By Your Full Name – He never calls you by your full name because why would he? You’re his beloved, and only that title matters.

If You Get Sick, He Goes Full Caretaker Mode Trying to Fix It – "Who made you ill? Who do I have to kill?" "Dami, it’s just a cold—" "Unacceptable."

Secretly Thinks Your Energy Is “Refreshing” – He’ll never say it out loud, but being with you is like breathing fresh air for the first time in his life. You bring color, life, and laughter into his otherwise sharp, guarded world.

If You Cry, He Panics (Internally) – Damian isn’t great with comforting words, but he’ll pull you into a firm hug, pressing soft, fleeting kisses to the top of your head, whispering, "You do not have to face anything alone, my love."

Your Chatter Helps Him Sleep – Damian is so used to nightmares that it’s hard for him to fall asleep… unless you’re talking. Your soft voice, your presence, your warmth—it makes everything quiet in his mind for once.

He’ll Never Say It, But He Loves Being Around You 24/7 – If you ever stop talking abruptly, Damian looks up instantly, as if searching for you.

If He Ever Loses You, He Will Burn the World to Find You Again – Period. A reasonable response.

He Doesn’t Do PDA—Except for You. In public, he’s gruff but still keeps a hand on your waist or fingers intertwined. In private? He will curl into you like a cat who refuses to let go.

You Make Him Believe in Love, Even When He Never Thought He Could Have It – At the end of the day, Damian never expected to have someone like you—but now that he does? He’ll protect it with his life.

—

The morning sun filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. It was one of those rare, quiet mornings, where Gotham’s usual chaos had yet to intrude, and Damian, for once, was still in bed.

You, on the other hand? Fully awake, wrapped in the coziest pastel sweater imaginable, and absolutely buzzing with thoughts.

"Okay, Dami, listen," you started, propped up on your elbows, looking down at him where he lay, face buried in the pillow, refusing to function yet. "What if—no, hear me out—what if cats had tiny little backpacks? Like, for their little cat belongings? Where would they even go?? Like, imagine Alfred with his own tiny bag! Wouldn’t that be adorable? What do you think he’d keep in it?"

Silence.

You paused, then gently poked his cheek.

Still nothing.

Finally, after a long, suffering sigh, Damian shifted just enough to glance up at you, narrowed green eyes sharp despite his grogginess.

"Beloved." His voice was low, hoarse from sleep, but dripping with deadpan exhaustion.

You beamed, undeterred. "Yes, my love?"

His gaze dragged over you, taking in your bright, bouncy energy compared to his own half-conscious, definitely-not-awake self.

Then, finally—

"Why must you do this to me first thing in the morning?"

You gasped dramatically, hand pressed to your heart. "Excuse me, sir, but I am merely blessing you with my intellectual wonders!"

Damian exhaled sharply—not quite a sigh, not quite amusement, but something in between. He shifted onto his side, grabbing your wrist, pulling you down against him in one swift, seamless motion.

You let out a small squeak as you landed chest to chest with him, your face inches from his, suddenly trapped under the warm weight of his arm resting lazily across your waist.

“…Dami?”

He hummed, already burying his face into the crook of your neck, voice muffled against your skin. "If I hold you here, will you stop talking?"

You snorted. "Absolutely not."

His lips ghosted against your shoulder, and though he was too stubborn to admit it, you could feel the small, amused smirk hidden against your skin.

"Then at least let me suffer in peace, beloved."

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him, fingers tangling lazily in his sleep-mussed hair.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

For all of Damian’s complaints, for all of his grumpy little comments, he still held you close, his grip never loosening, his presence warm and completely unwilling to let go.

Yeah. He could pretend all he wanted. But you knew the truth.

Your endless chatter was his favorite sound in the world.

(And later that day, when you found a tiny handmade cat backpack on your desk with a note in Damian’s sharp handwriting that simply read: "For Alfred."… You swore you saw a ghost of a smirk as he walked past you, pretending he had nothing to do with it.)

it's december so time to stare at my art output for the year!!!

picked out some stuff that i'm ok with. wish i had more art to show but im trying to let it go since i was gone for 4 months this year. here's hoping for more drawing time next year

hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with a sweet yet fiesty crush? Your jealousy post got me thinking. How the boys deal with jealousy over a crush, but what they do with a crush who isn’t prone to jealousy? the boys ask if crush ever gets jealous over a crush and s/o is like “no. I don’t own him. I have no right to feel jealous over him since we’re friends. And if we date, I’ll just trust him. He’s not my property. If he does cheat on me, I’ll hunt him down and kick his ass cuz I imagine we’d agree about committing at some point”?

Dick:

You don’t get jealous. Huh. 

He slouches on the sofa, arms crossed and cheeks puffed out. No he’s not sulking, he’s just stumped. Your words make sense and give him another reason for him to like you. But what does that make him? Here he is, getting bothered by everyone close to him trying to show off how much closer they are to you while looking at him. Especially Wally, yes bros before hoes but he really needs to stop putting his arm around your shoulders whenever the three of you hang out. Not to mention the smug smirk the red head sends him knowing he won’t be able to do anything about it. “Oh, I’m just being friendly” his ass. 

He suddenly feels something tugging at his pants. Looking down, a tiny smile forms on his face as lifts Haley up to his eyes. 

“Haley, would you get jealous over your crush?” 

He heaves a heavy sigh when she tilts her head questionably. Figures. 

Plopping her on his face, Haley barks energetically most likely from him blowing raspberries into her tummy in attempts to vent out his frustration. He has it so bad for you… Why does life enjoy making things harder for him including his desire to simply ask you? 

Jason: 

Welp. That’s a problem. Don’t get him wrong, it’s great and a relief for him since it means you're a green-flag, pro-healthy relationship type of a person. Problem is that he likes you. And he’s trying to gauge if you like him back so he can know if he has a chance with you. Jealousy is one of the biggest indicators of figuring out if a person likes another person seen in books, TV shows, movies, real-life (he’s totally not talking from first-hand experience). 

But you don’t get jealous. He’s not a jerk to plan to purposely instigate you into jealousy but considering it’s one of the more obvious signs, he was hoping he can use it as a form of proof that the feeling was mutual. So much for that plan though. 

Feet propped up on his desk, he slumps deeper into his chair and takes grumpy chomps out of his chili dog. Seriously, what does a guy gotta do to figure out if he’s able to ask someone out around here? 

Apparently everything that annoys him when the chili slides off the hot dog and onto his white t-shirt. 

“Shit.” 

Mentally he flips a finger into the air as he makes his way to the sink. To whomever is sending back luck towards him, he sincerely expresses fuck them. 

Tim: 

He’s not bothered by it. It’s a perfect response that shows the positivity in being in a relationship with you. So, he’s not bothered by what you said whatsoever.  

That’s what he tells himself, approaching his third hour of searching up if it’s normal to not feel jealous when crushing on someone on top of all the other signs of having a crush. Aggressive mouse clicking and tapping of the keyboard filling the room as his eyes drill holes into the screen.

All the articles say that it’s fine and usually points towards a good sign. He’s thinking the people who wrote them have never been in a relationship before and don’t know what they’re talking about. 

Groaning, he leans back and spins himself in circles. It’s not them. Or you. It’s him. He’s the problem. He’s grasping straws, hoping his feelings aren’t one-sided. That he’s not being odd or -wait. Hold on. Is he being a red-flag???

His eyes shot wide open, he rolls himself back to his desk and fills the room again with clicking and tapping. Only for his phone to ring. 

“Hey, Tim! Do you want to-”

“Do you think I’m toxic?” 

By the end of the phone call, he’s offended. He was asking a genuine question; what did needing sleep have to do with this?

Duke:

He flips to one side. Then to the other. No matter what he does, counting sheep, listening to black out noise, he can’t fall asleep. 

One part of him falls for you even harder. Your response was so cool and mature. Like, that’s how he’s going to be treated when the two of you go out. Loyal, couple goal’s commitment from you to him and him to you. There won’t be any drama. No you did, he did, who’s that. A strong, wholesome relationship. Thinking about this part makes him want to start planning how he’d ask you out. Where, what time, flowers or food. 

But then there’s the fact that you may have someone you like. Who it is, he wouldn’t be able to know since you won’t express it. What he does know is that he might not have a chance with you. Even if he were to ask you out, you’d reject him. As he thinks about this,  he isn’t sure which is worse at the moment: him getting rejected or him not being able to confess from the start. 

Grabbing his phone next to him, he considers texting his Batsibs until he remembers: none of them were normal. Slowly he puts his phone back down. Maybe he’ll ask his friends at school. At least he’ll get a somewhat decent advice from them. 

Damian:

He thinks you’re lying. It’s part of human nature to feel jealous, especially for romantic reasons. But you don’t feel jealous? Bullcrap. 

He angrily scribbles his answers onto the paper, maintaining neat hand-writing as it would be unbecoming for it to look like chicken-scratch (full on shade to Jon everyone in his family other than Alfrend and his father by the way). There’s simply no way you would answer as such unless you truly have feelings for someone. And that fact he doesn’t even know who it might be from how tight lipped you’re being-!

Snap goes his pencil. He bites his lip, frustrated and agitated all over again. He won’t admit to anyone else other than to himself but he has a crush on you. But if you like someone, he doesn’t want to continue harboring them. He has no intentions of getting in your way of happiness or causing pain to you and himself. So why can’t you at least drop a hint or something? 

He goes back to working on his homework with the broken pencil until the lead breaks this time. He’s quiet for a second. Then slamming his pencil down, he heads to the Batcave to get ready early. Nothing gets better as he endures teasing during the whole mission. He’s not being broody and it’s not because of a crush!

BATBOYS AS ROMANTIC MOVIE LEADS.

note : so basically the batboys and what romance movie / love interest character they would are !!!!

BRUCE WAYNE as...

CAPTAIN VON TRAPP ( the sound of music )

no i'm being so fr when i first watched this a few months ago i was so contemplating writing a fic or series of this exact scenario,, like reader is a nanny or something for bruce wayne's kids and they fall in love

take away nazi germany and it's LITERALLY a bruce wayne love story

him and his many kids

he would be slow to warm up at first, because at that time i imagine him to be very robert pattinson, very emo very lonely, very lego batman as in falsely independent

but then he realises he's in love with the person right in front of him, whom his kids adore, and he would do anything for them

DICK GRAYSON as...

JOHNNY MARTIN ( penelope )

if you haven't seen penelope this is your sign to go watch it because james mcavoy plays THEEE most dreamy man i have ever seen

he falls in love with who you are, not what you could be or what other people say you are,, he makes his own judgements and sticks to them, even everything you hate about yourself he sees the beauty in it all

literally ready to give up everything for That person

he may make a silly mistake like johnny did in the filmb, but you gotta realise dick grayson is not the man you want to let get away GO CHASE YOUR MAN GET HIM BACK

anf also the ending scene where johnny and penelope kiss HELLO he is literally putting his whole james mcavussy into that kiss and we all know dick grayson wouldn't half ass anything for the one he's most in love with ;(

JASON TODD as...

PATRICK VERONA ( 10 things i hate about you )

you can't tell me the whole bad boy and miscommunication thing wouldn't happen because it just WOULD

like say after everything's happened, jason too is a little bit emo and is this brooding "bad" kid who smokes in the corner of the library or something and hangs out at bars after school

he wants to make a little extra cash just to be extra rebel (he just doesn't want to ask bruce for money because he's going through a phase) and he doesn't reallllyyy care about the person he's being paid to take out

but then it hits and every time he looks at them angels start singing and they glow like they've been kissed by the gods

TIM DRAKE as...

JESSE WALLACE ( before sunrise )

okay forgive me if i get anything wrong here it's been a very long time since i last watched this movie but

tim has that cheekiness when he's in love that jesse has, maybe not exactly as cheesy (i can't watch the kissing scenes becquse they're so sloppy lol), but he falls and he falls hard

when he likes / loves someone they literally take up every fibre of his being and morph him into a lighter, happier person

he notices the little things, like the scene of wanting to tuck celine's hair behind her ear but being too shy because she already did it ???? that's SO tim because it's like he wants to be this suave macho guy, but he's just a little bit shy at the same time at initiating things

but he's in a european country getting all cultured and he's met this amazing person and he can't just let them get away

DAMIAN WAYNE as...

MR DARCEY ( pride & prejudice )

LOLLL yes i did it i could so totally see damian as like this awkward little thing but he shows he cares with the little things, like noting you prefer to walk so he asks to accompany you as opposed to taking public transport or driving ????

and also the hand thing

is so freaking damian

like he'd be a bit withdrawn, definitely awkward and he doesn't know how to act but he wants you BADDD sooo what daddy wants daddy gets

technically he is royalty right ?? i don't think mr darcey was royal but he definitely held a lot of prestige, so he'll be respected, have the manners he was taught to have growing up and struggle to talk to you any other way than to refer to you as if you were a blessing to walk this earth (but you're his blessing so it's okay)

JUSTICE LEAGUE AS FRAT BOYS.

characters written about in this piece : bruce wayne, clark kent, barry allen, oliver queen, hal jordan

note : sexual content mentioned but by no means smut, and definitely some swearing,, it's just kind of cracky and humorous because rhat's all what we're here for, thanks for requesting ! and hope you enjoy

requested !

BRUCE WAYNE.

probably the most restrained out of everyone, and it has you wondering how he even got in the freaking fraternity. oh you'd be surprised. on the outside he's this calm, sorta brooding, quiet type,, like seeing him with the rest of these guys he totally doesn't fit in. BUT!!!! that IS THE ENTIRE RUSE !!!! it's all an act to get clunge. like you could never admit it, but he purposely goes to the campus library, waits around the romance section and then when he spots a cute girl he goes up with all these lines. "hey, sorry, do you think you could help me locate wuthering heights ?? i haven't been able to find it no matter where i look !!" and then the girl finds it and he's like oh will you go out with me for some coffee and then we all know what really happens. but he's gripping definitely, can get your attention as soon as he walks into a room, so the girl he was plotting on was probably already plotting on him. also unfortunately the type to go after girls all nice when they've just had a breakup,, "i'm so sorry, the guy who did this should die in a hole, want to come by mine tonight and we could watch some movies with takeout ?"

CLARK KENT.

everybody meets clark and can't imagine him being as bad as his frat brothers, and he's not, except he also is worse?? he's your token meathead, brain non existent frat boy, but gets it done just as effectively, if not better than everybody else. when he spends most of the 24 hours in his day at the gym, you'd wonder where he even gets the time to pick up girls, but then you're walking through thr frat house and it sounds like a pig is getting wrangled with those noises,, and then you're walking through the dorms and find one doorhandle with a pair of hot pink lace undies hanging off and you're like ahhh okay it's clark— hang on. because no one's ever actually seen him in action,, chatting up a girl i mean. say everyone's gone out to a club or a sports bar or something, he's with the guys the whole time but somehow by the time they get back to the frat he's rawdogging someone upstairs ??? (i think it's the muscles, they're a magnet) and he's definitely a member of the football team, got there on scholarship because he's a small town baby, and the quarterback or linebacker title is definitely something he flashes from time to time to attract the huzz

BARRY ALLEN.

okay just because i said it just now for clark's one it made me think,,, barry would SO use huzz unironically. like he's texting the gc "k abt 2 go back 2 frat w huzz i found in victoria secret" and yes he also does type like that. want to know what he's doing in victoria's secret ?? oh that's a secret i'll never tell xoxo gossip girl (he hangs out in the mall to locate fine shyt and then discreetly follows them into the stores until he talks to them, and because he's so charming they go back to the frat with him). but it's true, he does have some sort of effortless air about him, more of a boyish charm than the rest, but his tactic is more so blunt flattery than anything else. big a girl's ego nice, by saying how pretty she is — are you sure you're not wearing makeup ? you're so gorgeous i thought you must be born with eyelashes like that — and then let her take you back to her dorm so she can return the favour if you know what i'm getting at 💀

overall actually i think he's quite a nice guy, and not as overly exploitative as the others, but yk still likes to have a go because he wouldn't be in this fraternity for nothing. by no means is he the type to stop his friends from the way they behave, because, like i said, he's not here for nothing, but sometimes might make a comment if he thinks they've taken it too far with a girl (but then he'll just go and cheer her up after wink wink)

OLIVER QUEEN.

more likely to date someone than the rest of the guys, but that doesn't make him any better by far. he might be the worst of them actually, because he makes all these girls think they have a proper chance with this really cool charismatic guy (rizz lol) and then dumps them with that whole "it's not you it's me" after like two months of dating, and just goes on through his college life like that the cunt. he finds cute girls EVERYWHERE like literally everywhere. there was one time he brought a girl home after the first date, and then he went to go make them coffee in the communal kitchen, so everyone was asking where they met, and he deadass says ohh she was doing community service and she ditched it for this dick lol what can i say. if he had normal friends they might say what the fuck ollie, but then everyone asked where it was she was doing it so they can find some of her peers because she "was taking it nice" like lord... but then even she didn't last long, and it was actually her fault not his just getting bored. after a week she accused him of checking out another girl and pulled a hammer to his head, so obviously that was a situation he wanted to leave asap. most of the time ollie just chooses some really strange girls to date (even tho half the point is to just have sex but actually have a label to it), so he considers a lot just having simple one night stands never to see them again, or doing what hal does, but he can't seem to bring himself to have something completely temporary. even though all his relationships are.

HAL JORDAN.

literally THEE fucking fuck boy frat boy literally THEE worst nightmare you could ever think of. it's like hal has been in the game since the womb, like his calling in life was to be a frat boy and nothing more. he's such a cunt, like he knows exactly what to say to any girl to get in their pants you know it all the whole bizz. and he'll say anything. literally pretended for a whole semester to be gay once just to score. but his favourite past time has to be bar crawls on a friday night, except the goal isn't drinks at each bar, it's girls at each bar. literally carries an entire strip of condoms in his jeans pocket to rip one off in a time of need, which could be any time obviously for him. frat boy hal is definitely a fan of public stuff, likes the rush of the possibility of being caught (and oh noooo nooo pls don't find out how good i am in bed, well... in the back of an alley but you get what i meeeeaaaan). i think he's kind of like joey tribbiani, where it's like instead of how you doin he goes up like hey you alright ? to any living breathing thing with boobies, and somehow it always works, because he's got a collection of bras or panties in his drawers, which are like trophies for every body he scores.

︵⏜ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤㅤ𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃ㅤ𝅼ㅤ𖥦ㅤ۫ㅤ⏜︵

¡ㅤ ֗ㅤ ๑ㅤ 𝅼 ㅤ꒰ㅤ𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧ㅤ꒱ㅤ ۫ ㅤ𑁤ㅤ 𖥧

♥︎ 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝘿𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙉 : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥?

♥︎ 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀 : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

Mark falls for you hard.

It’s not gradual. It’s not slow. It’s instant.

One second, he’s just a normal guy.

And the next? You’re all he can think about.

At first, it’s sweet.

He’s nervous around you, fumbling over his words.

He texts too much, calls just to hear your voice.

When he’s with you, he’s so happy—happier than he’s ever been.

But when he’s not with you?

It’s unbearable.

His mind races, his chest tightens.

He starts needing to know where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re with.

And that’s when the obsession starts to grow.

Mark has lost too much.

His father betrayed him. His world turned against him. Everything he thought was stable, everything he thought he could trust—was ripped away.

But you?

You’re different.

You’re not like his father, not like the world that constantly demands more from him.

You’re safe.

And after everything he’s been through, he refuses to lose you.

No matter what it takes.

Mark is desperate for something good in his life.

Being Invincible means constantly fighting, constantly bleeding—constantly losing.

But when he’s with you? It all stops.

With you, he’s just Mark. Just a normal guy who can laugh, who can breathe.

At first, it’s normal.

He loves you deeply, intensely, but that’s just who he is.

He’s a good boyfriend. Protective, affectionate—always putting you first.

He never lets you feel alone. Never lets you feel unloved.

But then the fear sets in.

What if you leave?

What if something takes you away from him—like everything else has?

What if one day, you realize that you don’t need him?

That thought? It breaks him.

And once it takes root?

It never goes away.

Mark’s possessiveness is almost sweet at first.

He always wants to be around you.

He texts you constantly, asking where you are, what you’re doing.

He flies you to school, to work—anywhere you need to go.

And at first? It’s flattering.

Who wouldn’t want a boyfriend who’s always there for them?

Who wouldn’t love someone who drops everything to make them happy?

But then it escalates.

You mention a male coworker? Mark’s jaw clenches. His fists tighten.

You go out without telling him? He finds you.

You start pulling away? He notices.

And suddenly, his protectiveness doesn’t feel so sweet anymore.

It feels suffocating.

Because Mark doesn’t just want you.

He needs you.

Mark has superpowers.

He doesn’t need cameras to track you.

He doesn’t need to ask where you are.

He just knows.

His super-hearing picks up your voice from miles away.

He listens to your conversations—even the ones you don’t think he can hear.

He memorizes your schedule, your habits, the way your heartbeat changes when you lie.

And when you go somewhere unexpected?

He follows.

He stays out of sight, high above the city, watching.

And if he sees something—or someone—that he doesn’t like?

It’s handled.

Quietly.

Permanently.

Mark doesn’t mean to be controlling.

He just wants what’s best for you.

And sometimes? You don’t know what’s best for yourself.

It starts small.

A concerned look when you talk to another guy.

A casual “Maybe you should stay home today” when he hears about trouble in the city.

A soft, worried “I don’t like how they treat you” when you mention a friend.

And then it gets worse.

The people in your life start drifting away.

Your friends don’t call as much.

Your job starts feeling unstable.

And through it all, Mark is always there.

Holding you.

Comforting you.

Telling you that he’s all you need.

And you believe him.

Because when he looks at you?

When he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world—

How could you not believe him?

Maybe you start to notice.

Maybe you start questioning him.

And Mark?

He doesn’t snap. He doesn’t yell.

He begs.

“Please don’t do this,” his voice shakes, his eyes desperate.

“I can’t lose you. Not you too.”

But if begging doesn’t work?

His expression hardens.

His arms wrap around you, strong, unyielding.

“I don’t want to do this,” he murmurs. “But I will.”

And before you can react—

You’re in the air.

The ground disappears beneath you, the wind rushing past.

Mark holds you tight, flying higher, higher—until the city is nothing but a blur below.

And then he looks at you.

Soft. Loving. Unshakable.

“You don’t have a choice.”

When you wake up, everything is different.

The doors are reinforced. The windows don’t open.

And Mark? He’s there.

Waiting.

“I know you’re upset,” he says gently, brushing your hair back.

“But this is for the best.”

His fingers tighten around your wrist, just enough to remind you.

“You’re safe now.”

“And you’ll always be mine.”

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆