°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Dee’sDiary °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

You'd noticed that he had been acting weird all week. Not bad weird. Just... off.

Every time his phone buzzed he'd snatch it up before you could glance at the screen, and whenever you asked what he was smiling about he'd shake his head and mumble something about it being nothing.

Which, obviously, meant it was something.

The entire drive over to his house you tried not to think about it. Maybe he was planning a surprise.

Maybe he was hiding something.

Maybe you were overthinking—that one seemed the most likely.

Walker sat beside you on the porch steps, his knee pressed against yours as the sun slowly disappeared behind the trees.

Usually he'd be talking your ear off by now, telling some ridiculous story or complaining about something that Aryan said a few days ago. Instead he was quiet.

His fingers tapped nervously against his thigh. You narrowed your eyes.

— "Okay." He spoke, glancing at you with a michievious grin on his face.

— "Okay what?" You asked, what the fuck did he mean "Okay" "What are you hiding?" You asked again.

His face immediately turned red. Which answered your question. You knew him far too well to not notice when something was off.

— "I'm not hiding anything."

— "You literally suck at lying" you exclaimed.

He gasped, — "I can lie."

You raised an eyebrow, — "You can't. You know you can't."

"Yes I can?!" Walker lasted all of three seconds before groaning dramatically and dropping his head into his hands. —"Fine." A nervous laugh escaped him."Maybe I'm hiding one thing."

"I knew it before you said it!." You pointed at him accusingly, earning another laugh.

For a moment neither of you spoke.

Then Walker sat up straighter. And suddenly he looked terrified.

Your heart was beating fast against your chest.

—"Before you say anything," he started quickly, "this isn't, like, a proposal."

You blinked. — "A proposal? What the fuck have you done?"

"You don’t even know what i'm about to say and you're already making it sound bad." His words somehow became even more rushed.

"Look.. don't worry. I'd never propose." He begun, quickly realizing just how wrong that sounded. "Just because we're young and I know that'd be crazy and my mom already laughed at me when I told her what I was planning."

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing. — "Okay," you said softly. "Then what is it?"

You trusted him now.

Walker swallowed, then he finally pulled something from his pocket. A small velvet box.

Your breath caught. — "Oh."

— "Yeah."His smile was nervous.

Your eyes flicked between the box and him. looked from the box to him. Back to the box. Back to him. And suddenly Walker was rambling again. — "I know it's kinda cheesy," he said. "And you don't have to like it. Seriously, if you hate it that's totally okay because I can return it and—"

— "Walker William Scobell."

He stopped.

You reached over and took his hand. — "I don't hate it. Or.. I wouldn’t know that cause I haven't seen it yet. But I don't hate the idea." The corner of his mouth twitched upward. — "Okay good. I was so fucking nervous."

Slowly he opened the box.

Inside sat a simple silver ring. Nothing over the top. Just something small and beautiful.

Something that somehow felt exactly like him, and you.

You stared at it for a second before looking back at Walker.

His eyes were already on yoi. — "I know people usually have a bunch of fancy reasons for this stuff," he said quietly. "But honestly, I just wanted you to know I'm serious about this, about us." He gestured between the two of you.

Your chest tightened.

Oh how you loved him.

Walker glanced down at the ring. Then back at you. — "I don't know what everything's gonna look like in five years. Or ten." He smiled sheepishly. "I barely know what I'm doing next week." You giggled, — "Same."

— "Yeah." He nodded, a laugh threatening to slip out. "But I do know I want you around for all of it." The smile on your face wobbled immediately.

Walker noticed.

Of course he did.

His expression softened. — "It's not a forever ring," he continued. "Not yet, anyway. You'll get one when we're ready, a real one. A proposal." He added, saving his earlier mistake. His grin widened. — "But it's a promise." "A promise that I love you."

Your heart practically melted.

"And a promise that no matter what happens, I'm gonna keep choosing you." Carefully, he slipped the ring onto your finger.And somehow it fit perfectly. Neither of you said anything afterward.You didn't need to.

Walker simply pressed an innocent kiss to your forehead, and then another one, softer, to your lips.

You loved him so much, and you always would.

The end.

AGGH I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR SO LONG AND I STILL THINK IT'S AHH I CAN'T 🥹🥹🥹

you got by closing your eyes at the scarier parts and subtly whispering to sukuna to tell you when it was over.

then the movie hit you with the most horrific, satan-spawned jumpscare imaginable.

you shrieked so loud the entire row flinched.

your hand jerked violently.

and your ice cream launched directly into satoru gojo's face.

silence.

then satoru yelling, “WHAT THE HELLY?”

suguru and toji snickered.

and suddenly you were crying.

partly because you’d just assaulted sukuna's friend with matcha soft serve after you'd spent a whole minute outside the theatre convincing all of them you weren't scared in the slightest before you'd gone in.

partly because that was some really good ice cream you'd just wasted.

partly because everyone was staring.

but mostly because that movie was fucking terrifying.

sukuna immediately grabbed your wrist and stood up. “aight, we’re leaving.”

you hid your face in his arm while his friends snickered behind you. humiliation burned hot in your chest as he guided you out of the theater, your legs still shaky.

outside, the cold night air hit your cheeks.

“sorry…” you mumbled miserably.

sukuna snorted. “it's fine, baby. gojo deserved it, he was being an asshole."

you whined, covering your face. "i wasn't talking about that!"

he laughed under his breath, but there wasn’t an ounce of cruelty in it. just amusement. then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, “i’ll take you home, yeah?”

you sniffled and nodded. “that was scary.”

“i know, babe. i'm sorry,” he opened the passenger door for you, buckling your seatbelt himself with surprising gentleness. “should’ve known that shit would freak you out.”

“it was my idea…” you hiccuped.

“i still shoulda said no.” he shut the door and rounded the hood of the car.

the few seconds you sat alone were awful. your eyes immediately darted to the rearview mirror. the backseat looked way too dark. you stared at it, fully convinced some horrifying demon woman was about to crawl over the seats and kill you.

the driver door opened and sukuna slid in and caught you staring.

“…you looking at your little friend back there?”

you gasped, “kuna, don’t SAY that!”

he barked out a laugh while starting the engine. “you want another ice cream?”

your watery eyes widened hopefully. “…yeah.”

“thought so.”

by the time you reached your apartment complex, you were clutching a drive-thru soft serve with both hands while sukuna walked beside you toward your door.

you were finally calm again.

until he kissed your forehead, patted your ass lightly, and turned away. “see you tomorrow, babe.”

terror immediately flooded your face. you grabbed his arm so fast he almost stumbled back.

he looked down at you with a blink. then sighed. “…should’ve expected that.”

your eyes welled up again. “y-you’re leaving?”

“nah.” he unlocked your apartment and walked in beside you. “just wanted to see your face.” sukuna lied smoothly.

you blinked. “…oh.”

“cute reaction though.”

you huffed at him before setting your ice cream on the counter. “um… i need to pee.”

“okay?” he said, lifting a questioning brow, not quite sure what this has to do with him.

you awkwardly twisted your fingers together before looking up at him nervously.

a beat passed.

then sukuna sighed the sigh of a man accepting his fate.

a minute later, he was inside your bathroom aggressively yanking the shower curtain open .checking the cabinets. looking behind the door.

“there.” he deadpanned. “no demons.”

you stood in the doorway anxiously. “is it safe?”

“yes.”

“…promise?”

“baby, if something attacks you while you piss, i’ll personally beat its ass.”

you considered that seriously.

“…okay.”

you stepped inside cautiously.

“stand by the door.”

“stand by the—” he repeated in disbelief, before he stopped himself with a long exhale. “fine.”

“and turn around.”

“baby, i’ve literally seen you naked—”

“TURN AROUND.”

“bossy as hell,” he muttered, turning around anyway.

“and cover your ears.”

he stared at you over his shoulder in disbelief. “why?”

"i don't want you hearing me pee!"

sukuna sighed slowly. then lifted too resigned hands to his ears.

“not all the way though,” you continued nervously, “or you won’t hear me scream.”

sukuna closed his eyes and covered his ears, “that all, princess?”

“mhm!” you chirped brightly, kissing his cheek. “thanks honey. you’re sooo brave.”

he looked up at the ceiling like he was asking the universe for strength.

“next time we’re watching finding nemo.”

supa kyoot dividers by my fave @anitalenia !!

You pasted on a smile, trying to fight your way through this long, endless night. But that last question caught your attention it’s a way out, a way to a small escape of freedom, even if it is for five minutes.

“He must be greeting the other guests,” you said smoothly. “I’d love to go find him for you.”

Before anyone could stop you, you slipped from the ballroom. Your heels clicked sharply against the marble floors, the sound echoing through the empty corridor behind you.

Your head spun violently. Your body felt as if it wasn’t as your lungs burned. At this point you were gasping for air.

Every breath came shorter than the last.

By the time you heard footsteps somewhere down the hall, panic had already clawed its way into your chest. You shoved open the nearest door and hurried inside, slamming it shut behind you.

The room was dark but you could make out little bit by bit as your eyes adjusted, it’s a library.

Moonlight spilled through towering balcony doors, casting silver across rows of bookshelves. You stumbled toward the light with one hand pressed against your ribs.

Perfect, you needed air.

You burst onto the balcony with a broken gasp, inhaling deeply, but no matter how much air you pulled in, it still wasn’t enough. You felt trapped inside your own body.

Your vision blurred as tears pricked your eyes, you gripped the stone railing needing stability. The lights below smeared together while your trembling fingers searched frantically around your chest and waist wondering why nothing was helping—the corset!

It was too tight, far too tight...but it was too late.

A choked sound escaped your throat as you collapsed to your knees, clawing desperately at the jeweled fabric digging into your ribs. You silently prayed begging for a divine intervention, someone or something to help you out of this.

Panic consumed every coherent thought in your mind. Four maids had dressed you tonight. There was no way to remove it yourself, without assistance you were doomed. Your vision darkened at the edges as you felt your body sway. You were prepared to hit the ground but it never came…

Your fading mind barely registered movement as someone lifted you effortlessly and laid you against something soft, likely one of the library couches. You felt your body being tossed and heard fabric tearing. Cool air finally touched reached your skin through your loose undergarments. The crushing pressure around your waist loosened.

Your lungs expanded sharply.

You felt a hand steadied against your shoulder.

“Breathe.”

That voice…it was low and vaguely familiar. You dragged in a shaky breath, then another, your body jolting violently as air finally filled your lungs properly again.

When your vision cleared, a face emerged from the moonlight above you.

His features focused and you realized it was your finance…

• Damian’s pov •

Damian was trained to be observant. To be a leader you had to be quick on your feet. You had notice things faster than the average citizen. He had detected your discomfort long before anyone else did, he just believed you were being dramatic.

While the nobles drowned themselves in music and expensive wine, he watched from the edge of the ballroom with narrowed eyes. You smiled when spoken to. You laughed when expected. You curtsied gracefully beneath the weight of diamonds and expectations alike.

Damian found the entire event insufferable. The music was too loud, the conversations meaningless, and the people orbiting the two of you like vultures made his skin crawl. Half the women in attendance stared at him like he was some kind of prize to be won, while the other half stared at you with poorly concealed envy.

Down right pathetic. Still, he tolerated it only because he had no choice. His father threatened him if he didn’t behave himself.

His eyes swept the room but he kept an eye on you the entire time. That’s when he noticed a change.

Your shoulders stiffened, your fingers twitched against your gown, your breathing became uneven as your chest rose and fell in an unnatural way.

At first, Damian assumed you were simply overwhelmed by the attention. Most royals were weak-minded when it came to pressure. He expected you to excuse yourself eventually and compose yourself like everyone else did.

Instead, you looked terrified. Your face was flustered and your skin had a soft sheen of sweat. The realization made his brows furrow.

He watched another noblewoman corner you near the center of the ballroom, speaking endlessly while you nodded absently. Your eyes darted around the room as if searching for an exit.

Then suddenly before he could blink again you fled. Damian’s gaze followed your retreating figure as you disappeared through the ballroom doors.

Nobody else seemed to notice, but of course they didn’t they were too busy talking about themselves. Damian exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation prickling beneath his skin. He should have ignored it if you wanted a moment alone, it was none of his concern.

Yet his feet moved before his mind fully caught up. He downed the rest of his drink sitting the empty glass on a servants tray.

The distant sound of your heels echoed through the halls, uneven and rushed. By the time Damian turned the corner, he caught sight of you stumbling into one of the west wing rooms before slamming the door shut behind you.

He speculated before but now he knew something was wrong. He approached quietly, gloved hand resting near the dagger concealed beneath his coat.

Then he heard it. Gasping followed by wheezing, it sounded like someone drowning.

The breaths were sharp broken and desperate.

Damian’s expression darkened instantly without hesitation, he shoved the door open.

The library was dimly lit, silver moonlight pouring through the balcony doors left slightly ajar. For a brief moment, he couldn’t find you. Then he saw your silhouette crumpled near the balcony railing. Your body shook violently as you clawed at your waist, struggling for air.

Damian froze. He took a split second analyzing your body, his eyes landed on your waist. Your hands clawed at your waist. He thought for moment—your corset.

It was restricting your breathing.

“fool,” he muttered under his breath, though the insult lacked any real bite.

You didn’t even seem aware he was there. Your vision had already begun to unfocus, Damian noticed your body began to waver.

Damian crossed the room in seconds. Just as your body tipped sideways, unconscious, he caught you effortlessly against his chest.

You weighed almost nothing. Carefully, he lowered you onto one of the library couches. Your breaths came shallow and weak, each one worse than the last he was running out of time. Damian pulled the dagger from beneath his coat. With precise movements, he sliced through the front of your dress reaching down to your corset, careful not to cut you. He cut through the expensive fabric without hesitation. The moment the pressure loosened, your body jerked sharply beneath his hands.

“Breathe,” he ordered firmly, supporting your shoulders. “Slowly.”

But you barely hear him. Your eyes had rolled shut completely, for the first time that evening, genuine alarm struck him.

“Y/N!” No response.

Damian gritted his teeth and tilted your chin upward, forcing your airway open. One hand remained steady against your back while the other loosened the remaining fabric around your ribs. Then finally a sharp inhale tore through your lungs. Your body jolted violently as air rushed back into your chest.

“There you are,” Damian murmured quietly.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You look disoriented and dazed, but he can see you slowly coming back. Then your big glossy eyes landed on him, moonlight illuminated the sharp angles of his face.

“…Damian?” Your voice came out so weak it stirred something in his chest.

“You nearly suffocated.”

His voice was harsher now, irritation masking something deeper. His hands remained on you anyway, steadying you when another shaky breath rattled through your chest.

You stared at him in stunned silence.

Because Prince Damian Wayne—the rude, arrogant man who could barely tolerate anyone was now looking at you like you had just scared years off his life and that scared you.

©hon3y0logy 2026— any reposts or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission. Do not feed my work into any AI programs.

“Alright Clark, we can go now.” she calls from her side of the vehicle, and Clark breaths a sigh of relief before jogging over to the passenger side. The two of them pull into the street before making their way through town. On every store window you can see people trying to make the heat profitable for their businesses. There's posters showcasing sales on fans, visors, ice, and cold drinks. People pointing out that the ac in their stores actually work. Even Lana has started a summer menu with a few great deals over at the Talon. Clark sighs while the hot air brushes his face through the window before he notices a child with a huge ice cream cone in his hand. Then he notices several other people walking with a frozen treat.

“Mom? Do we have an ice cream place here that I don't know about?” Clark asks as they drive by the nth person with a large, pastel colored, dairy ice cream scoop. Martha takes her eyes off the road for a minute to look around too.

“No, not since I've been here.” She says while eyeing what looked like a scoop of pecan praline on someone's cone. Clark frowns in confusion.

“Then where's everyone getting the-?” he starts before his eyes land on the large, painted cookies and cream sign. Below it sits a brown, black and mint shop exterior with windows that obviously haven't yet gotten acquainted with Smallville’s excess of dirt and dust. If it wasn't the cartoonish sign, the long line stretching down the block could draw anyone's attention. Martha slows and pulls over across the street, right in front of the Talon, so they can get a better look.

“When did that get there?” Clark asks, practically leaning over his mom's shoulder. Martha just glances at the shop windows and sees that the inside is as crowded as the outside is. She can't even see the employees through all the bustling customers.

“This is the lot that was under construction for the past few months. You didn't notice before?” She asks, just as interested in the new shop as her son. Clark just shrugs, turning his head slightly with his eyes still scoping the scene. To be fair he doesn't notice much of anything if it's near the Talon, or more specifically, Lana Lang. Frozen Flavor, the sign above the shop says. Clark is broken from his thoughts when his mom absentmindedly pats his arm.

“Yknow we never got to take you out for icecream much Clark. You know, when you were little? What do you say we go try some?” Martha gasps, suddenly sounding excited. Clark just quirks his eyebrow, thinking. He's never been big on ice cream, mostly because Smallville only has those expired,freezer-burned ones you find at the bottom of a gas station cooler. He sighs and glances at the line.

“ I don't know mom, it looks a little crowded. You sure you don't want to just get an iced coffee at the Talon?” Clark suggests slowly, trying to lead his mom towards something other than risking heat stroke, standing in line for the new ice cream parlor in town. His mother is already taking off her seat belt though.

“Come on sweetheart, I haven't been to an ice cream parlor since I lived in Metropolis! If we get in line now we can still fit under the tarp!” Martha attempts to persuade him again while climbing out of the truck. Before Clark can object his mother shuts the door in his face, leaving him to huff in the hot, stuffy air left behind. Reluctantly he steps onto the pavement and shuts the door behind him. He looks over at the dark doors of the Talon, where he'd obviously rather be right now when Martha calls him again. With a sigh he shrugs, meets his mother around the truck, lets her take his arm, and walks with her to the new Hotspot in town.

A/n: I'm DEFINITELY going to finish this one next summer. I don't care if I don't really mess with Smallville anymore lol. I look forward to finishing and reading this one someday. Thanks for reading!!🍦🍦🍦

He's not sure when it started, really. It might've been the time you came over to talk to Pete about a project you two were assigned together, the deep frown directed at his irresponsible friend forcing Clark to take notice of the glint in your lip gloss. It's possible he didn't notice that he always heard your laugh above everyone else's in the hallway, even if it wasn't at all the loudest in the area, his eyes distractedly landing on where you're falling into your friend's shoulder. He kind of feels like it was when you first stopped by his house to run an errand for your grandpa. Clark hadn't known you were neighbors at the time and he definitely hadn't known that you were coming by.

“Of course you can, sweetheart! Do you wanna come inside while I-?” Clark is just walking out of his bathroom, hand rubbing a towel around his hair, when he hears his mother's voice coming from the kitchen. Whoever she's talking to sounds familiar, but Clark doesn't think much of it. Apparently he wasn't thinking much of anything that day because why he just walks into the kitchen, shirtless, while company is over, something he usually has the brain cells not to do? He still doesn't understand. There you are, the girl he only ever sees in passing, sitting at his kitchen table. There he is standing in the living room archway, hand in his hair, torso on full display, and frozen like a deer in headlights. You glance away from the tray of brownies his mom had likely offered and let your eyes land on the person in your peripheral. You look over at him and Clark feels his heart jump like it does every time your eyes meet these days, then your gaze drops.

“Um-!” You utter and quickly, blinking your eyes a few times, before turning your head and blocking the sight with your hand. It's only then that Clark's synapses connect and he thinks to cover himself. Martha then walks back in with a folded stack of clothes in her hand.

“Here you go honey, these should work-!” She says before her eyes land on you, with your head turned and eyes focused on the floor. Her eyes widen with confusion, then land on her son standing there shirtless, face quickly turning a shade of beet red.

Started: 08/06/25